An Archivistic Vision: Welcome to the Programme

Earlier this week, coinciding neatly with a just-in-time delivery of memories into the LoL – a faux-leather case, bulging at the seams with promising content, Mrs Reign opened Parliament and recited the new government’s proposed legislative programme for the coming year.

“Have you seen this?” Thoughtful Man said, passing the case over for inspection.  It was surprisingly heavy, requiring both hands to guide it to the floor and prevent flattened toes. “That should keep you occupied for a bit”. He was right. A glance at the protruding spines produced a squeal …

*squint*

… and the urge to break out plastic opera glasses. “Programmes! These are all our programmes”.  I grabbed a handful and got comfortable …

“Shows, concerts, places of interest.” I looked up beaming, “All the places we went together. I’d forgotten all about these”.

“Of course.” Thoughtful Man managed to keep the ‘harumph’ out of his voice but not off his face. “I keep everything.” He’s not called ‘Thoughtful Man’ for nothing. “I don’t think that’s all of them, but it’s enough to get you started. Why don’t you take some photos and then pick one to focus on.” He handed me a camera and retired to a safe distance.

programmes 1 programmes 2

Where to start? There was a lot to choose from but fortuitously a prompt arrived from A Void at Merovee … Phantasmagoria mention by A Void Erasure … not the sort proposed by the new government and read out by Mrs Reign … but the campy band and their ‘Phantasmagorical‘ concert that I had to go see twice at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1992.

Erasure Phantasmagorical Program Erasure Phantasmagorical Program insert

I’d bought the concert tickets for Thoughtful Man, as his gift the first Christmas after we were married.  But as luck would have it, he was travelling that night so I ended up taking Sister Juju.  Afterward, as we left the theatre, the sweat rapidly cooling on our hot and tired bodies, we hoarsely agreed “OMG! He has to see it!”

The next day I set about trying to find more tickets, no mean feat considering this was pre-internet days …

Not quite that desolate, Clicky, but I can see why you might think that.

It was the giant, Pip, from work at Big Shop, who unexpectedly came to my rescue …

Pip comes to Roob's Aid

These tickets were even better than the first, right at the front, but even better than that, we got to have the phantasmagorical experience together …

Jealous much, Clicky?

“Have you finished that yet?” Thoughtful Man reappeared, looking anxious; he knows what a terrible shot I am. He spotted the shiny programme. “Erasure! Bloody brilliant!.” He turned away, leafing through the pages. “I’ll tell you what, have a song.”

Altered Images

It’s my birthday today. I got cake for breakfast from Google …

happy birthday roobeedoo from google 250515

*I know! What a scrummy surprise …*

… and Thoughtful Man took me shopping …

*Hardly, Clicky … the local Asbo …*

He takes me shopping once a year, mostly to remind himself why he doesn’t go shopping with me more regularly …

*No, not quite …*

I rather like food shopping, looking at all the product laden shelves … studying the exciting ingredients … riding the trolley … I get rather google-eyed at it all …

“Calm down or I’ll Mary Lincoln you” Thoughtful Man sighed heavily, placing a steading hand on the handlebar as it wobbled closer to a 2 for 1 special on Pot Noodles.

“Ab Lincoln’s wife? I was taken aback and slightly flattered … the wife of a President.

“She went mental and was committed by her son after she fell in with a spiritualist” he replied as we skirted past a group of lads looking for the barbecue and beer aisle.  “He invented double exposure photography, though he didn’t get the credit for it”.

I skidded to a stop … good job too, I hadn’t seen the mobility scooters conveniently parked at the entrance to the cat food aisle. “Do you mean like Photoshop?”

*Unfortunately Clicky, I don’t think that’s photoshopped …*

*No, not that one either …*

“I suppose … Do we really need this much cheese?” He eyed the trolley contents suspiciously, “toothpicks, pineapple chucks … tin foil … Hang on, I thought you didn’t want a birthday party”.

“I don’t. It’s in case the neighbour’s child comes over to play with the boys”. His icy squint burned. “Sorry, I invited him. He’s just lost his mother”.

“He ate her”.

“I don’t think he had a choice.” I pushed on toward the frozen pizzas. “I think it was like one of those Donner Party situations”.

He caught up by the time we’d reached the check out. “So you [blip] think he’d prefer eating cheese and pineapple [blip] kebabs instead?!” He fluffed open a plastic bag and started filling it. “You are a [blip] mad [blip]“.

*Please Clicky don’t do it. I’m so embarrassed …*

*Clicky!*