31January1996

My dear folks,

Let me tell you briefly about two remarkable TV programmes we have seen. One was about events known as pageants in which children up to 5 years of age go on stage to perform for prizes. Of course, it could only take place in the good ole US of A. The cameras followed the preparations of 2 of the top performers, Asia and Brooke, both aged 4, as they practised their singing, dancing, flouncing, modelling, hip-swivelling, eye-lash fluttering & similar arts. They appeared made up & dressed up to the nines. Asia was wiped out by Poppie which didn’t seem to bother Asia overly much - she had a neat line in resignation - but devastated her parents who left crying foul.

The other item - documentaries are my favourite programmes - was about the insertion of (I think) a computer chip in the spine of a paralysed young woman & the subsequent development of a computer programme which was able to send the signals to the brain which the nerves would normally have sent. Sadly, I missed the first part & was able to watch only the efforts of the young woman & the programmers to fine tune the software to enable her first to stand & then to walk. In short, she did both although it took a year of hard effort. How the nerve endings were linked to the chip I have no idea. The story made headlines a few weeks ago when it first broke.

I finished Frederick Forsyth’s “The Fist of God” (a Gulf War yarn) with misgivings. His research as always is absolutely superb & the wealth of technical detail blurs the gap between fact & fiction. But his characters have become nearly as wooden as Geoffrey Archer’s & almost as incredible, no mean feat. Now I am well into a book entitled Fuzzy Monsters, Fear and Loathing at the BBC. It’s an account of top management wars the past 10 years & the rise of a widely loathed man to top spot. The account is based on dozens of interviews with those involved, including a lot of senior people - in the nature of things, most of them pissed-off & anonymous variety. I suppose I ought to exercise a little discretion in my comments. Suffice it to say that surveys reveal BBC troops to have reasonable confidence in their captains but to wish ardently that their generals were leading the enemy instead.

Yesterday morning went on correspondence & the afternoon on a refamiliarisation shift with Asia Today, a programme I edited for six months & which I am to take over again next week in order to allow the current editor a break. The sun shone again, so welcome. Jones took herself off for a long walk. She has been distressed by news of an impending divorce in the family. After breakfast (coming up shortly) today, I plan to cycle over to Islington to do computers with Penny & this afternoon we hope to see Babe, the much admired feature film on the pig who did not want to become pork.

We have also been trying to sort out a possible rental at the Quinta. At Jones request, our “builder” went up yesterday to ensure that the tenants would be able to get in the swollen doors and that the large cottage was habitable. We have tenants staying in the very leaky cottage next door but the telephone line went down a couple of nights ago as I was speaking to them & has been dead ever since. And that reminds me, I ran a test call on Jones’s number in MCP, only to get a recorded voice saying the number had changed. A “4” has been inserted into it. So please note that the full number for MCP is now (00) 351 89 463867. The other fax/phone number remains (00) 351 89 415411.

Enough for the moment. Much love. T