Today's From The North Word Of The Day, dear blog reader is 'omniana': A miscellaneous collection of scraps of information on different topics, often in written form. See, also, From The North.
Congratulations are considerably due to some smear of no importance at the Screen Rant website for, this week, publishing an article entitled Doctor Who Season Fourteen Episode Count Revealed As Series Looks To The Future On Disney Plus. 'Revealed' that is, a mere seven months after Russell Davies first confirmed that the series would consist of eight episodes plus the 2023 Christmas special in the December 2022 issue of the Doctor Who Magazine and was then, widely, reported elsewhere in the media. Including, as it happens, on this blog. Pre-production for the series commenced on 26 September 2022 and filming began on 5 December. And, in June 2023, Screen Rant are reporting this as 'news'. Jesus, dear blog readers, is it any wonder some Americans didn't noticed they had a hairdo for a President for four years? Oh and some extra points are due to the same website of this piece of nonsense from one of their UK-based contributors. It concerns a 'tiresome' companion trend which Big Rusty 'Really Needs To Change', apparently. Bet he won't, though, just to piss you off personally, mate. It's always very enjoyable watching writers use the word 'tiresome' as a direct replacement for 'I don't like it.'
Wales Online have been all positively agog and that this week with a couple of breathless articles - here and here. About large parts of Cardiff city centre being sealed off on Sunday and Monday as Doctor Who location scenes were filmed as part of the current recording block. Much of the filming was of a chase scene with Ncuti Gatwa and Bonnie Langford sharing an orange scooter. Which is not something you see everyday, admittedly.
Russell Davies has dropped 'Enigmatic hints for the series' future' according to yet another spectacularly poorly written piece of twenty four carat horseshit, this time from the Movieweb website (no, me neither). For 'enigmatic', dear blog fiends, read 'not enigmatic in the slightest.' Davies, 'known for his cryptic manner, has left a trail of breadcrumbs for the fans to decipher. He disclosed three enigmatic words that he implies are central to the fifteenth season: "garden," "firmament" and "diploma." These words have already ignited a whirlwind of theories and speculations among ardent fans' writes one Ali Valle - a freelance entertainment and lifestyle writer who, seemingly, couldn't get a real job. Big Rusty is not 'cryptic' dear blog reader or, in fact, anything even remotely like it, he just enjoys messing with fanboy and fangirls' heads. He's been doing it for a long time and he's very good at it. Exactly what makes these particular three words any more enigmatic than three other random words - let's say "total", "utter" and "jiggery-pokery" just for the sake of argument - Ali Valle doesn't elaborate. Which, some may regard as a bit remiss given how much tongue-slavvering slurp Ali Valle just put into that previous hyperbolic sentence (and, presumably, Ali Valle got paid for it). 'Firmament' is a good word, though. It always reminds this blogger of a 1950s cinema advert for, this blogger believes, a soap of some description in which the advert's jingle writer (or writers) manged to rhyme 'firmament' with 'the term I meant' in the lyrics! One simply has to admire incompetent genius such as that. Anyway, just for Ali Valle's benefit, Russell (and The Lord Thy God Steven Moffat OBE after him) have been using the 'here are three random words which crops up in the new series to get you all perplexed' thing for over a decade. 'Enigmatic'? Possibly (though, usually, not). '[Ignite] a whirlwind of theories and speculations among ardent fans'? But, of course, this is Doctor Who fandom we're talking about, many of us would get collectively dizzy if they tried to walk in a collective straight line. But, 'hints [about] the series' future'? Probably not.
Meanwhile, this blogger thought the only Doctor Who-related controversy this year was going to be whether the comic-strip version of The Meep would be considered canonical. Seemingly not.
And now, dear blog reader, here - for your enjoyment - is an on-location photo of The Divine Millie Gibson ... and a couple of friends. What?
From The North favourite, yer actual Peter Davison certainly appears to be getting somewhat cranky in his old age, particularly where his former Doctor Who co-stars are concerned.
That said, dear blog reader, this blogger is indebted to his most excellent fiend, Andrew, for providing the following passage from what was, in those far-off days, Doctor Who Monthly issue sixty four (cover date May 1982, available from all good newsagents. And some bad ones): 'Janet Fielding broke off as the hatted figure of Peter Davison decided to take an interest in proceedings. Her apology for losing her train of thought was taken up by Davison shuffling off down the corridor to the snack bar making chuffing noises and exclaiming "This is the train of her thoughts!" When she called after him, pleading for a sausage, the immediate reply "You'll get fat!" brought an immediate morose expression to her face. "Should I have a sausage or not? Do you think I should have a sausage?"' Peter Davison, noted Andrew, messing with Janet Fielding's head for over forty years. Personally, this blogger believes she should have definitely taken the sausage.
This blogger's most recent trip to The Local Swimming Pool occurred last Thursday. But three lengths were achieved (by sheer will-power alone, let it be noted) although then this blogger enjoyed a - really very nice - hot shower. During which the song 'Hungry Like The Wolf' was playing on the establishment's in-house radio. This blogger's thoughts turned, as they usually do at such times, to the late, much-lamented From The North favourite David Warner and his 80s-pop obsessed Soviet scientist Grisenko in the Doctor Who episode Cold War. Whose first question upon meeting a time-traveller from the future is: 'Do Duran Duran split up?'
And then, of course, to the massive missed opportunity in Clara not replying, 'tragically, no, they don't!'
Next ... Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Eighty Three: Prophecy Girl.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Eighty Four: Wild At Heart.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Eighty Five: Bad Girls.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Eighty Six: Pangs.
Which, of course, brings us with the full and frank inevitability of the frankly inevitable to that part of From The North dedicated to this blogger's on-going medical malarkey. Or, strictly speaking, malarkeys as there are several of them. For those dear blog readers who haven't been following this on-going fiasco which appears to have been on-going longer than the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, it goes like this: Keith Telly Topping spent some weeks around Christmas 2021 into New Year 2022 feeling rotten; experienced five days in hospital; was discharged; received B12 injections; then more injections; somewhat recovered his missing appetite; got an initial diagnosis; had a consultant's meeting; continued to suffer fatigue and insomnia; endured a second endoscopy; had another consultation; got (unrelated) toothache; had an extraction; which took ages to heal; had another consultation; spent a week where nothing remotely health-related occurred; was given further B-12 injections; had an echocardiogram; received more blood extractions; made another hospital visit; saw the insomnia and torpor continue; received yet more blood tests; had a rearranged appointment for his sick note; suffered his worst period yet with the fatigue. Until the following week. And, then the week after that. Oh, the fatigue, dear blog reader. The depressing, ceaseless fatigue. He had a go on the Blood-Letting Machine; got another sickie; had an assessment; was given his fourth COVID jab; got some surprising news about his assessment; had the results of his annual diabetes check-up; had another really bad week with the fatigue; followed by one with the sciatica; then one with the chronic insomnia; and, one with a plethora of general cold-related grottiness. Which continued over the Christmas period and into New Year. There was that 'slipping in The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House bath and putting his knee through the side' thing; the night-time leg cramps; getting some new spectacles and this blogger's return to the East End pool after over a year of constant inactivity. Only to discover that he remains as weak of a kitten in water. Or, indeed, out of it. Feeling genuinely wretched. Experiencing a particularly nasty bout of gastroenteritis. And, getting a visit from a pleasant and helpful occupational therapist.
This week, dear blog reader? More of the same, really!
Anyway, to far more important matters; this blogger started to get a number of horribly deadly-looking messages on Linda, The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House laptop on Friday afternoon informing this blogger that Linda's hard drive had either gone kaput or was about to go kaput. Either way, it was both unexpected and yet, in an odd way since Linda, The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House laptop was several years old and had been put through some jolly harsh treatment of late, not unexpected at all. The poor old girl had to go sometime and, there being, they reckon, no time like the present the whole made a weird kind of sense.
Keith Telly Topping has been considering getting a new Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House laptop anyway so that he could shut Linda away in a Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House cupboard and forget she ever existed. Thus, her sudden potential-dying-the-death-thing wasn't quite the abject horrorshow (and drag) it may have been at any other time (and, particularly during lockdown, for example). Consequently, it pushed this blogger only semi-reluctantly in the direction of doing something about it. Something that he'd been considering but putting off for at least a couple of months, as it happens. An online search saw this blogger find a nice-looking ASUS VivoBook. The same make as Linda, albeit with a much smaller capacity; it was, nevertheless, suitable for this blogger's needs (two hundred and fifty six snots of memory or thereabouts, 'this baby is primo-rad ...' apparently, according to at least one online review). It was also on offer at Argos for a mere two hundred and sixty quid plus a fiver delivery charge. And, fortunately, this blogger had acquired a number of Argos gift cards from various sources (mainly filling in online shopping surveys and the like) which were burning a hole in his pocket so, in the end he used all of those and the new machine ultimately cost Keith Telly Topping a whopping £15.94. And it was same day delivery. Re-and-indeed-sult.
However, of course, this meant a mad-rush to get everything backed up from Linda before she finally went fzzz-pfft-kablam! Not a problem in terms of the vast majority of this blogger's three hundred and seventy GBs of documents and near 500 GBs of music files. This blogger wasn't worried about losing any of his documents as Keith Telly Topping backs up everything important (and some stuff that isn't) at least once every couple of days. The problem, though, as anyone that has ever gone through this process before is that it's such a clart shifting everything over. Particularly, the process of trying to re-install various apps and bits of software, some of which are as old of Methuselah. And, in several cases, discovering that Windows 11 (which this blogger hadn't used previously) simply threw up its hands in horror at the very thought of some of them darkening its door and then having to try to find alternatives.
Promised for delivery by 10pm on Friday evening, it actually arrived somewhat earlier than expected (around 7.30pm). This blogger was resigned to having to spend the majority of the next three or four days trying to work out how the new one actually operated. But, once switched on, it actually seemed quite user-friendly. Therefore this blogger started the lengthy process of dumping everything - or, at least, everything essential since, as noted, the new one - let's call her Leticia - has a smaller capacity than Linda - via this blogger's trusty detachable Seagate hard drive, Cyril.
By midnight (way past Keith Telly Topping's usual bedtime, dear blog reader), Keith Telly Topping believed that he was about a quarter-to-a-third of the way through the entire process (which was, all things considered, not at all bad for about four hours work). But, by that stage, this blogger was pure dog-tired to the point of flaking out on The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House couch, so the rest of the job was postponed until the following day.
Saturday morning and this blogger managed to set up Audible - which was great since it played very poorly, if at all, on the old machine which was only running Windows 8.1. At last this blogger was now able to have on From The North favourite Clive Mantle's audiobook narration of From The North favourite Mark Lewisohn's Tune In as a soundtrack to his computer shenanigans (that file having, apparently, been too big to play on Linda). Also up and running were Calibre, Chrome, the various Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House Avast security files and uTorrent (which was then swiftly binned on recommendation of several beast Facebook fiends and replaced by qBittorrent). This blogger also moved over almost all of the files and documents which he is going to need on a daily basis and imported his website favourites, lots of photos and most of his ebooks. So far, so good. In fact, so far, so really good. There were only a couple of horrorshows at that stage - this blogger's version of Screenshot Studio, for example (which this blogger believes was probably bootleg version anyway) simply would not load. But, there was a relatively easy alternative to that - an update, later successfully obtained. A more worrying thing was that when this blogger tried to load his copies of Word, Arcsoft PhotoStudio and PhotoBase, he had no way of doing so as they were on a couple of discs and Leticia didn't have a disc drive about her personage (as, this blogger is led to understand, most new PCs don't - for reasons that he finds bewildering. Some of us do still have discs, you know?) The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House does have a - very - old external DVD drive (Clarence) but, given that he hadn't been touched in any way shape or form for a decade or more, unsurprisingly, it was too much to expect that he would work when linked up to the new machine. Plan B, then!
Once again, this blogger's dear Facebook fiends came to the rescue, particularly in the case of an inability to get Word up and running (to be fair, it was a version of Word so old it actually carries the tagline 'in the beginning was Word'. Thankfully, the Godlike genius that is this blogger's most excellent fiend, David suggested trying LibreOffice 7.5 as a decent alternative. This blogger did, it worked and, aesthetically, this blogger has to confess, he actually prefers it to what it was replacing. Then, (after literally minutes of searching) this blogger managed to find a free download for Photostudio (it was not, quite, the same version which Keith Telly Topping previously had and this blogger is still trying to work out whether it's better or worse - he's currently coming down on the side of worse though that's a minor consideration). So, this blogger got that up and running; then he spent about three extremely frustrating hours on Saturday afternoon trying to work out how to configure his old Canon scanner to Leticia and getting increasingly ill-tempered and bolshy whilst doing so ('your scanner is not switched on' Leticia insisted. 'Yes! It! Effing-well! Is!, Tell! This! Bloody! Computer! That! You're! Definitely! Switched! On! Please!' this blogger demanded of Shaun The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House scanner. Shaun retained his right to remain silent). Eventually, after much effing and blinding and snarling this blogger sussed out what the problem was by downloading a new driver for Shaun. And, that sorted out that problem instantly. Then, this blogger took another hour to work out how to get the new machine to recognise The Stately Telly Topping mobile so that this blogger could transfer photos over from one to the other. Again with an, ultimately, successful outcome after a bit of this blogger crashing his head off Terry, The Stately Telly Topping Manor plague House table a few times.
Of course, unlike the much-appreciated helpfulness of this blogger's lovely and fragrant Facebook fiends, looking for any help online for the majority of these problems is a minefield for anyone without an advanced degree in nerd-speak. This blogger - one of the world's original technophobes when it comes to all hardware and most software - often resembled Billy Connolly's father in that memorable routine from An Audience With ... when confronted with his son's new 'banjo' ('you might as well be saying "doormat"'!)
In the end, this blogger got a link to Percival, The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House printer configured and managed (after at least four failed previous attempts) to download and install an app which he needs to continue filling in online shopping info and carry on getting those jolly useful Argos gift tokens. It has been suggested that one definition of madness is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result each time. This blogger can confirm that, just this once, that's actually crap! So, now all Keith Telly Topping has to do is work out how to get Total Recorder working (he's got an e-mail in with their technical support department as we speak) and, remarkably, otherwise job's a good'un. Within a timescale of less than two full days. A minor miracle has occurred, dear blog readers! Praise de Lord and pass the sleeping pills.
As if all that excitement wasn't enough, whilst this blogger was waiting for the delivery of his spankin' new laptop on Friday evening, a very surprising and very touching thing occurred. Every time, dear blog reader, that this blogger finds himself ready to give up on humanity as a lost cause something always tries to prove Keith Telly Topping bigly wrong in his wrongness. It's starting to get a bit annoying, frankly! This blogger's neighbour is a very nice chap called Ahmed. This blogger knows him only very slightly - we say 'hello' to each other on the odd occasions that we pass in the street outside The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House and Ahmed always, seems like a nice, pleasant, thoroughly decent bloke. But never, in Keith Telly Topping's wildest freaky dreams, did this blogger expect to receive an - unsolicited - act of kindness such as what happened next. There was a knock on the door of The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. Thinking that it might be the delivery of Leticia the replacement laptop, this blogger shuffled and limped, unsteadily, down the stairs and opened the door to find a smiling Ahmed telling this blogger that he has cleared this blogger's - massively overgrown (and 'massively' was not, in any way, an overstatement) - back garden and that he was was in the process of doing the same to the - only slightly less overgrown - front. Although that, he noted as if expecting this blogger to be disappointed, would take him a couple of days to trim back the massively unmanicured lawns of The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House.
Shocked - and stunned - this blogger gabbled his sincere thanks and offered to pay Ahmed for his time and effort. He refused payment and said that he done it because he knew that this blogger couldn't due to Keith Telly Topping's on-going health issues. That was, in short, one of the most touching things this blogger thinks that's ever happened to him. Right up there with the time that some anonymous person returned the wallet that Keith Telly Topping dropped on the bus back in 1992! This blogger was genuinely choked by the gesture and, immediately, alerted Facebook to the fact that he appears to have a Goddamn Saint living next door to him. This blogger's Facebook fiends, to a man, woman, or gender-non-specific individual, agreed that Ahmed is, indeed, a jolly sound bloke.
'So, what is this? Some remnant of a Roman tracked vehicle?' asked this blogger's fiend Nick when this blogger posted some pictures of the garden's current - work-in-progress, albeit, not this blogger's work-in-progress - state. Just Christine, the small Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House coffee table, this blogger replied, 'one of the first things I bought when I moved into the gaff (twenty quid from a second hand shop!) One of the legs broke and it's been lying out in the back garden for five years or more.' Then Nick wondered, what was he misinterpreting as a rubber track/belt? 'Did your coffee table grind the coffee?' Christine did not, this blogger assured him. 'I know exactly what that is now and, ultimately, I didn't even have to go downstairs to check it out (I merely looked out of The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House bedroom window and said "oh, yes, it's that"!) It's, actually, the side part of an old upstanding CD rack-type-cabinet-affair which broke, probably around the same time as the small coffee table did and got put outside as a consequence.' Any dear blog readers who wish to do so may now indulge in some serious speculation about why so many hapless items of furniture used to get smashed up at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. This blogger couldn't possibly comment.
'So, what were the highlights of Glastonbury 2023, Keith Telly Topping?' this blogger hears you all asking. Well, a few of you asking, anyway. Blondie on Sunday afternoon, that goes without saying (Clem Burke can still drum like he's killing warthogs and, The Jesus Of Cool Glen Matlock on bass). David Grohl drumming with Chrissie Hynde, Johnny Marr and The Pretenders on a spirited version of 'Tattooed Love Boys'. The Goddess that is Allison Goldfrapp and a splendid set by the very talented Maggie Rogers, just off the top of this blogger's head.
And, obviously yer man Sir Elt was on top form to close the whole thing off. With a 'career-spanning' set that actually included but one song released after 1984! Mind you, dear blog reader, this blogger was so tired the following morning; a necessary conceit after he'd stayed up half-the-sodding-night just to hear Sir Elt play 'Crocodile Rock' one more time. (Admittedly, it was the best version of the song this blogger has heard from Sir Elt since The Muppet Show.) I'm never doing that again, dear blog reader. And, if he's true to his word, neither is Sir Elt his very self. Lovely duet with Brandon Flowers on 'Tiny Dancer', mind. Though we should all, probably, be grateful that the Glastonbury crowd didn't start singing 'I've got ham but I'm not a hamster' at that juncture.
For this blogger, however, the total expected highlight - well, apart from Wor Geet Canny Luscious Lovely Lauren Laverne, obviously - was From The North favourites Sparks dropping a pop atom bomb on The Main Stage with a sublime set. One which climaxed with Ron and Russell being joined by Cate Blanchett to recreate her appearance in the video for 'The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte'.
And then, getting their mate Edgar Wright to take the (now traditional) 'photo with the audience' at the end. God, this blogger loves those guys.
The unexpected highlight of the festival, though, was good old Rick Astley, fresh from his own (very well-received) set joining Blossoms for an astonishing set of The Smiths covers. If this blogger hadn't seen it with his own, astonished, eyes he would never have believed it. And, it was actually really rather good. If only we'd known how well Rick can do this sort of thing before the much-missed Andy Rourke died last month, the idea of The Johnny Marr Trio (Plus Rick Astley) touring the world might've actually been a proper thing.
All that said, let us just pretend that Guns N' Roses never happened, all right?
Oh very well, Mister Coven, if we absolutely must ...
The From The North Headline Of The Week award goes to the Worcester News for their world-class piece of reportage, Seagulls Attacking & Defecating On Sandy's Road Residents. Well, whom amongst us hasn't always rather wanted to do that? This blogger knows that he has. Frequently.
And finally, dear blog reader, are any of you lot interested in this exciting potential opportunity?
