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Channel 4, 8.30pm
“Morning, Emily. Number One Granny reporting for homeschooling duty.
“You can’t hear me? Sorry. There, I’ve unmuted my microphone. I’m not allowed to have it on when I’m doing my online tai chi so I’ve got into the habit of leaving it off. Is that better? Have I really turned off the camera? How did that happen?
“There – that’s us in sound and vision. This Zoom business is really a bit beyond my skills – it just sounds too fast for someone my age.
“Have you done your PE with Joe Wicks this morning? Let me see? Oh yes, that’s most impressive, but no, I’ll pass on star jumps and bunny hops if you don’t mind. My knees aren’t what they used to be.
“Is Daddy still up in the attic? Sorry, I keep forgetting it’s now his home office. He sent me a picture of it last week complete with a selection of ‘good’ books, two family
This light-hearted fictional piece about a media-challenged granny trying to help her granddaughter is by poet and monologue writer Lynda Mackenzie in Clackmannan, Scotland, and will no doubt resonate with many readers…
photographs and the obligatory random artistic object.
“I suppose Mummy is looking after the twins? Well, I’m sure she knows best but I do feel they’re a bit young for meditation and mindfulness – they can barely sit still long enough to eat their breakfast let alone sit cross-legged on the floor staring at a pot plant for half an hour, particularly if the plant is a weeping fig – not the most inspirational of foliage.
“What subject are we supposed to be doing this week? I do hope it’s something straightforward – last week’s nuclear physics for primary schools was just the teensiest bit beyond me.
“Well look for your work sheet now. Really, Emily, we’re already half way through our free session time allowance and haven’t even
started. I’ll pop off and make a cuppa while you get organised.
“Perhaps my brain will work better once it’s caffeine charged. No guarantee, of course, but this new Covid-brain affliction gives me ever such a good excuse for forgetting things.
“Right then – literature – that’s within my educational scope. What’s the book? The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe? Excellent. I remember your daddy liked it when he was your age. Off you go then. Read me a chapter while I have my cuppa. “You did that very well, Emily. Well done. That’s our time up now but tomorrow we’ll discuss your opinion that it’s wrong to go into a wardrobe that isn’t yours and that fur coats have no place in modern society. Bye, Emily, and I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
Dear Coleen
I’m a man in my 30s and had a good friend who died a couple of years ago.
I was devastated and did all I could to support his wife. They didn’t have any children together.
Over the months, I got very close to her and we’ve now started a romantic relationship.
But I feel guilty about it all the time. None of our friends know about us – they assume we’re just close friends.
We’ve always got on well, but when my friend was alive I honestly never thought of her in a sexual way.
We want to be together and move on with our lives, but I’m worried about what people will think. Can you help?
Coleen says
I think you’re wary about the reaction among your social circle, but it sounds like you’re more worried that dating your mate’s wife is somehow a betrayal of the friendship you had with him.
People are brought together by grief more than you might imagine, and I don’t think you’re doing anything to feel ashamed or guilty about.
You weren’t having an affair before your friend died – this is something that’s developed since.
I think a good first step would be to get your relationship out in the open. You might find people are happy for you and pleased something positive has come out of a tragic situation. It might also help you both to talk things over with a grief counsellor (cruse.org.uk).
Just be mindful that it’s been a tough couple of years and you’ve relied on each other a lot to get you through.
Take things slowly and work out what else there is between you, other than this shared experience, to sustain the relationship in the future.
You can see the cogs whirring away as Jamie Oliver, probably slightly delirious with lockdown (as we all are), spins about his kitchen talking ten to the dozen about his rebellious recipes.
This series sees the chef take ingredients we all know to reinvent bog-standard dishes and create something more exciting.
“Sometimes I like to ring the changes,” he says.
“Even the good old roast dinner can benefit from a bit of a shake-up.”
And yes, shock horror, the first thing he does is mess with the traditional roast dinner.
A roast chicken collides with a margherita pizza, resulting in a chicken cooked over tomatoes with giant mozzarella-stuffed gnocchi instead of roast potatoes.
Then, inspired by a Chinese takeaway favourite, he makes a prawn toast toastie.
He says: “We can take that thing that we love and just bend it!”
A scary prospect, but it might be just about the most exciting thing you’ve witnessed all week.