Small Town Christmas

Possibly I was to bed last night by 1 a.m. after having watched an episode each of four of the T.V. series my brother and I follow in common ─ and I only just barely limited myself to three cans of Cariboo Malt (7.9% alcohol).

These were our shows, and they were watched in this sequence:

• Juliet Bravo ─ episode seven ("Coming Back") of season or series one.

• Shetland ─ episode two ("Red Bones – Part 2") of season or series one.

• The Graham Norton Show ─ episode 17 of season or series 32.

• Lawmen: Bass Reeves: ─ episode six ("Part VI") of season one. 

Concerning Juliet Bravo, my source was uploaded November 1, 2024, to YouTube's General Carrington. channel: Juliet Bravo S01E07.

I was truly impressed by how loving the character played by actress Rachel Davies was to her ex-con sickly husband ─ Rachel was very beautiful, whereas actor Ron Bain seemed most unlikely to be realistically paired with her. This led me to try and learn her age, and that has proven impossible ─ I can find no mention of her birth date anywhere. It was interesting seeing actor Kevin Whately portraying a cop who was having a romantic affair with Rachel's character while her husband was in prison ─ Kevin's character could not deal with his lover wanting to resume a life with her husband, and it was to lead to his ruin.

And in Shetland, my brother and I speculated on what the heck the festival Up Helly Aa, must be inspired by, but I see in that Wikipedia article that we were wrong. However, my brother did correctly speculate that Guy Fawkes celebrating might be involved.

Incidentally, as far as I could tell, my brother remained fully conscious all through our time together.

During those shows with my brother, my wife had come home from working at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time, but she was to bed for the night by the time the T.V. was off for the night. She had left me the payment receipt for the dental work she had undergone early that afternoon.

This morning my brother emerged from his bedroom ahead of 8 a.m. before I was yet up, although I did hear him. I soon rose, but I never went downstairs to join him until at least 8:45 a.m.

We were to only watch four relatively short videos, leading off with a 19-minute video uploaded yesterday to YouTube's AnitaK channel: Sentencing Tamara Lich and Chris Barber, what to expect, plus, tariff talk.

My guest, Matthew Horwood from Epoch Times.

Then it was a 17-minute (17:44) video uploaded yesterday to YouTube's Moose on the Loose channel: Mark Carney INCREASES CBC Funding & Will LOCK IT.. in LAW! + Pierre Drops Trump/Border TRUTH BOMB.

After that it was a seven-minute (7:52) video published yesterday to BitChute's Whats Her Face channel: Climate Change VS Weather Modification.

Have you ever wondered why it’s suddenly flooding in the desert, snowing in July, or hailing on your beach vacation? No, it’s not “climate change”... it’s your friendly neighbourhood government funded agency playing God again. It's just a little bit of cloud seeding and weather modification! What could possibly go wrong?

In this video, we dive into how shooting chemicals into clouds to "help" the weather has totally not backfired in the form of the occasional apocalyptic lightning storm.

And we finished with a 15-minute (15:22) video published yesterday to Rumble's Redacted News channel: Poland is doing the UNTHINKABLE to Ukraine and the EU is FURIOUS | Redacted News.

The polish people seem to be done with Ukraine. They're fed up. They've been inundated with millions of Ukrainian refuges and Polish soldiers are fighting and dying on the front lines against Russia.

The description fails to mention that the hostess's guest is a Dr. Mike Krupa.

The reason for such little T.V. was because around 10:15 a.m. my brother left to restock his beer supply; and then just ahead of 11 a.m. he left again ─ but this time on foot ─ to catch a bus to rendezvous with someone at a pub to begin his day's drinking especially early.

I will not be sitting up late with him this evening ─ there is no way he can show up this evening in any sort of reasonable condition.

And truthfully, I find it so hard on me to be sitting up late watching our shows and having three or so beers that any such night cancels my desire to engage the activity the following day. Besides, I want to make use of a very early Sunday ─ not be seeking to gain as much sleep as possible to recover from a late Saturday night.

My wife rose this morning at 10:30 a.m. at earliest to shower; and then almost on the heels of my brother's departure for his bus, she hustled away with nothing more to me than a "Bye". Did she have to go to work? I haven't a clue.

Whatever damage my bad knee has, it is now so weak that I cannot step on the first step of a stairs and then rise up on the step with just my right leg. Even when I lean forward to use my hands to help by climbing up the stairs and thereby assist the leg in rising up onto the step, I seem only able to do so twice and by then the leg feels exhausted of its limited ability.

I should practice throughout the day, but I have no access to any stairs where I can practice in privacy. Once Bev gets up for the day, she parks herself on the chesterfield in the living room and watches T.V. all day long until she goes to bed in the evening or late night if she can drink that long.

The stairs to the upper floor are in full view of the woman. All day long, I have to risk her watching me as I laboriously come down the stairs, placing both feet on every step before moving on the to next one; and the same in climbing the stairs. I have absolutely no privacy ─ I hate having to go to the kitchen because I am constantly exposed to her where she sits.

I feel so 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃ℊ helpless and useless.

I considered going out to the backyard tool shed this latter afternoon, but already Bev was into her white wine. She keeps the box of wine just outside the sliding door to the backyard sundeck. If I was to go out to the tool shed and not inform her, the next time she refilled her wine glass, she would lock me outside.

But I bloody don't want to inform her of my doings ─ it's no one's business but mine!

And so I remain a bloody prisoner of the house, impotent in every imaginable way.

I am going to take a break from this post as 6 p.m. approaches. I performed 50 partial squats to try and get my right thigh horizontal, but I need to be stepping up onto something to keep forcing my lower quadriceps muscles to work, for they seem to have atrophied as a result of over a month now of inactivity from any normal day-to-day full-range movement.

★★★

Almost desperate of somehow occupying my time without delving into the sordid, the realization struck that there was little sense in holding back on watching any shows here on my bedside computer until the usual 8 p.m. deadline more or less imposed by me for my brother's invitation to come downstairs to operate our Android TV Box.

If I already knew that I was not going to be sitting up late with him, why not entertain myself wholesomely early and have some beer then, freeing myself up for an early evening?

I could even watch a movie!

I needed an emotional boost ─ a Christmas movie.

And therefore came my choice of 2018's Small Town Christmas. I loved it!

It provided the emotional involvement I sorely needed, even though I somehow never badly broke down into the sobbing victim that Christmas movies often turn me into.

I cannot say that I am unquestionably familiar with lead actress Ashley Newbrough, but I did not doubt that I knew of her from at least one previous Christmas movie I have enjoyed.

And female calf fan that I undeniably am, her pair quickly enough stood out despite her general leanness ─ the lady has great legs!

Her male lead is always a nice guy, so he was easy to take. And his character's young niece (actress Bailey Skodje) ─ whom he was raising after the death of his sister and her husband a half dozen years earlier ─ was a pure sweetheart.

Lord, I need to live in a Christmas world ─ not the one I'm in!

My movie source was this OK.ru link. And it allowed me to enjoy three cans of Cariboo Malt.

Anyway, I am now rather lit with three beers under my belt, and no inclination to remain up late watching anything else here or downstairs with my brother.

The movie and my drinking were done by maybe 8:15 p.m. As yet Bev was alone downstairs, but she was just apparently about to phone my brother. The outcome was that she blew up at him and hung up.

A minute or two later, he was home.

Evidently his snarky, drunken self had left a wrong impression ... or not. He can be a miserable lout when drunk.

Whatever the case, as I worked on the conclusion of this post, I peeked downstairs after considerable silence below and saw that he was passed out in his chair, and Bev was watching whatever was on T.V. by herself.

Then a half hour or more later, by which time I had brushed my teeth and otherwise set myself up for the night here in my bedroom, I discovered that Bev had betook herself to their bedroom where she was evidently watching her T.V. there, leaving my besotted unconscious brother sprawled in his comfort chair in the living room and paying no heed to the running T.V.

What a pathetic sight.

That's it for me in this blog post for today at 10 p.m.