Although I’m not going to spoil any details of Season 2 for those of you who have not yet had your Netflix marathon, now would be the time for this:
I watched Season 1 unable to move from my perfect vantage point of Broad Hill. (Not to be confused with Broadmoor. I grew up listening to that test siren in England – you did not want to be outside if those residents should happen to take themselves on an outing.)
I was beyond excited for Season 2 of Derek.
I was in love with all the characters and missed them!
I had never seen anything quite like Derek – which did not fail to make me laugh AND cry in each and every well written episode.
(And yes, you shall need a box of tissues for Season 2 – I can tell you that.)
I became so smitten with the show that I then launched into a marathon of “An Idiot Abroad” to tide me over.
Then the big day arrived.
May 30th, 2014.
All of Season 2 available on Netflix.
I got comfy on the couch, as did my son who I managed to get hooked during the first marathon.
And was in stitches after the spider incident. (Alright, so that’s a tiny spoiler – or, actually, not so tiny *shudder*.)
What then happened as the first episode progressed, was me experiencing a desperate need to love Season 2 so very much that I kept smiling even while my mind was thinking, ‘Okay, what is going on here?’
What was wrong with Dougie’s wig?? Why the almost immediate exit? Where was my closure???? (Ok, another spoiler – but that’s the last one I promise – and it’s not a big secret.)
I had to google. WHY oh why was my Karl Pilkington abruptly and unceremoniously abandoning Broad Hill???
I found this quote by Mr. Gervais.
If you saw him in the first series, [he was] sweating [with nerves],” Gervais explained. “He couldn’t really act with other people, ‘cos he was so nervous. I honestly didn’t know whether to hug him or put him down!”
Ok. I’d heard that before.
But, there couldn’t have been a real goodbye?
Dougie went through a lot more crap in Season 1 that should have had him running for the hills.
Then this information:
Though Pilkington only shot two days on Derek series two, Gervais argued that the character of Dougie “wasn’t really integral” to the show.
Not integral to the show???
Dougie was the moral compass of that show as far as this fan is concerned!
Yes, of course there’s Hannah, but as one of the ‘in crowd’ Dougie was the balance!
He said what we couldn’t. Rolled eyes we couldn’t at the likes of Kev or some idiot insensitive resident relative or Council member.
And most importantly, he tempered Kev and Derek!
Which brings me to Kev. I happen to love him too – but while Derek the show got darker, Kev’s antics in Season 2 went beyond the pale.
Except for a tender moment in a tie – his character was just … sad. Sad and as usual, very horny.
Over the top.
And this is the opinion of a girl who couldn’t wait for the next installment of Kev’s Christmas Crackers videos on Youtube!
Here’s an example.
So you see – I’m not a prude.
I googled again – to see if there was anything more on Karl’s departure.
Well Karl, you not only got away with it – you made the character your own.
And for the record, ‘putting’ yourself in a situation and getting wound up by it’ is actually acting.
There are plenty of A listers that can’t do an Irish accent – or an English one *cough* Kevin Costner, Drew Barrymore *cough*
And you’re lucky you can remember that s***.
And we were lucky you could too.
And we miss you.
We’ll end on a high note shall we?
If you are EVER feeling down – watch this. Watch it over, and over, and over.
Ricky’s laugh is so very contagious … and peeking behind the curtains of Season 1 is oh so satisfying.
I truly hope there will be a Season 3 – and if so – PLEASE please please may Dougie be in charge of those curtains again????
I fell asleep last night wondering if musicians get goosebumps or tear up when they play their best songs live. I thought this after getting goosebumps and tearing up to this.
Comfortably Numb, live.
I drifted off to sleep having been wished ‘Happy Birthday’ from 3 countries in which I was already born – and with David Gilmore and Roger Waters echoing in my head.
9:30 p.m. I hear my son coughing violently in the kitchen – then:
Nic: “Don’t mind me – just choking”
Me: “Obviously you’re breathing”
Nic: “ha ha. Don’t rush out to check on me or anything”
Nic: “That’s my mom!” (as if he’s got a crowd he’s informing of this. “That’s my mom ladies and gentlemen”)
I smile and close my eyes.
10:30 p.m. Eyes back open. My son is church mousing around in the kitchen, the house shakes. He has inherited my delicate elephant stomp.
12:04 a.m. Awoke from a dream involving two special friends from the past and a mystery man – we’d gone on a crazy roller coaster and then to a Depeche Mode concert. Ended up on stage and of course, I was taking photos.
2:00 a.m. Butters stands beside my bed, breathing on me. I try to ignore her.
2:30 a.m. Butters stands closer – breathing more heavily. I get up, let dog out and leave front door open for the dog and any and all serial killers to have easier access to me while I returned to bed.
4:00 a.m. Seriously??? Dog is nowhere to be seen, so what the hell has roused me this time????
5:00 a.m. Peer at clock with gritty, tired eyes … too tired to roll them in anguish
5:30 a.m. I give up.
Didn’t have that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling as I scooted out of bed and wobbled to the bathroom.
I always at least have that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling first thing in the morning (well, on birthday mornings anyway, not every morning obviously)
I guess 45 is the cut off for that pink frosted feeling.
Son sleeping, dog still outside.
I microwave a cup of yesterdays coffee, because I’m too lazy and uncoordinated to make a new pot.
Shower cap in hand, towel at the ready, I sit and wait for my alarm, because I have no clue how to turn it off prematurely.
6:00 a.m. Shower. I ponder while I’m in there.
Why do men have the best razors??
Seriously, considering the skin footage we women have to shave compared to men – shouldn’t ours be cutting edge? (No pun intended) and don’t give me that ‘But men have to shave their delicate angled faces’ crap, because you know as well as I do that women shave a hell of a lot more ‘delicate’ places and we have curves and angles too!
I will only buy mens razors.
7:10 a.m Dressed – still sipping my microwaved coffee – my mum calls and sings at me from the dog park.
7:20 a.m. I’m milling about the house now … always ready early – always restless.
I spy a banana in the fruit bowl that looks like a duck. I think perhaps it was bored, in there all alone – and decided to morph in order to have some fun.
I decide I like that banana instantly.
I give Butters two of her biscuits and then proceed to tip two vitamins in my hand and pop them in my mouth – along with dog biscuit crumbs.
*sigh* I’ll count that as breakfast.
7:35 a.m. I decide to plant a kiss on my sleeping sons cheek – he’s shirtless in bed with a sunburn
Me: “Hey naked … I’m outta here”
(I’m sure he’s got ‘Happy Birthday’ planned to exit his mouth later.)
Out the door I go.
I hope for a really amazing song in the car – no luck. I end up pretending to know the words to a new Shakira song and sing out of key.
7:45 a.m. Arrive at work.
I unlock the door … notice the ‘Happy Birthday’ sign place above my desk has fallen off of the wall. I put it back up after I disable the buildings alarm. Then I wonder if that’s self-appreciating or just helpful. Decide it doesn’t matter, my OCD needs that sign back up where it was.
There is a birthday card on my keyboard.
A little while later, another card heads my way in the hands of my sweet friend Ruth. A tiny ribboned box perches atop it.
The card cracks me up.
This is it:
The little box opens to reveal a teeny tiny necklace. This friend knows me well. I love ‘little’. I love delicate. I love the necklace and she stands behind me and puts it on.
Friend: “Now we’re married.”
I’m thinking I could do a lot worse. She’s amazing. And she knows my humor and taste.
We would be bound to have a long and successful union – except she’s still madly in love with her husband.
The broker comes through the door with the most adorable tulips – and yes, they’re for me.
I’m feeling spoiled – and it’s only 9:15 a.m
10:48 a.m. Finally got a Happy Birthday from my son.
He has accompanied his girlfriend to the dentist and the following instant messages ensued:
Him: I just saw a turtle wet a fallen flower
Me: It would have been funnier if it HAD wetted it
Him: Lol, well the flower just fell from a nude into the water, and the turtle ate it and went underwater, So I guess he did. Lol
Me: I don’t even want to know why your ipad confuses ‘bush’ with ‘nude’ lmao
Him: lol, oh no.
Him: Happy birthday by the way
We have the strangest conversations. I hope he doesn’t eat the duck banana before I can point it out to him.
Yeah sure, I could show him a photo – but it’s so much better to meet a duck banana in the flesh … peel?
My boss takes me to lunch from 11:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. We sit outside and chat. The view is gorgeous. I enjoy her company. We shared a room on a business trip to Phoenix a while ago – and over 8 hours in the car together. I like her. That’s the true test you know, a long car ride and sharing a room successfully.
I have the Mahi-Mahi wrap with wasabi and soy – SO good.
First meal of my 45th year, other than that dog biscuit crumb I had for breakfast.
You know, I never thought I’d make it to 30, let alone 40 … and now I’m half way to 90 for crying out loud!
And 90 is doable. Considering my little and delicate nannie just celebrated 91.
If I wore her on a necklace, close to my clavicle, she might see 101.
Home now, my parents have just left – and wouldn’t you know it? A pink frosted thing came with them.
I’m too full and too tired to eat any of it – but after the first 12, I did catch a glimpse of that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling.
Ah Mothers Day.
Began at 5:30 for me – I tried to roll my eyes, but my eyeballs weren’t working yet.
Seriously – why the hell do I wake up so early?? Might have something to do with Butters staring at me.
The thing is, I begrudgingly get up, go to the bathroom – and by the time I have the wherewithal and balance to let her out, she’s gone back to sleep with her head on my side of the bed.
Right. That’s that then.
This morning was no different. Although, I had to wake Nic up so he could be sure he wasn’t working today.
Funny story about that … and it’s only funny in a ‘Ha! Now he is getting a taste of the ‘real world’ way’.
Yesterday he was late to work – he got a scolding for that (not from me – I’m amused on the sidelines, watching him learn from his mistakes) and then he proceeded in his naivety to advise them that he would be unable to work today as it is Mothers Day.
I settled in to the couch with a gleeful twinkle in my ‘you’ve got to be freaking kidding me’ eye, to hear what the response was.
“They told me I’m not the only person who has a mom.”
I couldn’t suppress a giggle.
Who knew that watching your child learn first hand all the things you tried to teach them would be so much fun??
“Aw! Nic, seems you’re learning that the only world that revolves around you is mine.”
Turned out he doesn’t work today – after he put a phone call in to his place of employment.
He is now honoring Mothers Day from the couch.
He’s going to kill me for that …
Notice the dog is also actively ignoring me – nose to the gap in the front door.
I called my mom – we have brunch plans (I’ll be sure to wake Nic up in time).
“Where is this ‘Bumlbeberries?'” I asked.
I didn’t even know what building I was going to …
“So, enter the chocolate factory and take what? A left or a right past the lickable wallpaper?”
Laughter from the other end of the phone.
I was serious. A bumbleberry sounds very ‘Wonka’ to me.
What in the world is it? And more importantly, are they going to have cake? Of the bumbleberry variety perhaps?
“No, there’s no such thing. I looked it up.”
See – this is where I get my research gene from. I love that my mother took the time to look up ‘Bumbleberry’ just to see if one does in fact exist.
She’s looking forward to the crab legs and escargot. I’m looking forward to multiple trips to the buffet and photographing my food.
And of course, spending time with her.
If he ever wakes up.
Innocently driving home yesterday with my son … when something came from behind us, flew in the open window, smacked against the wind shield and landed in parts unknown.
Yes, I said ‘came from behind’ more on that later.
So we both acknowledged the ‘happening’ and exchanged glances. Then I put my eyes back on the road as Nic looked down.
“There’s something on your leg.”
Rule #1: Don’t ever tell someone driving a car that there is anything foreign and quite possibly alive ON them.
Me: What?!?!?! What’s on me????? What is it???
Nic: I don’t know … it’s a spot … on your leg.
By now, I’m imagining this:
I don’t think that’s too far-fetched considering we DO live in the desert and there are any number of hard-shelled creepy crawlies that could show up on a bare leg.
Okay, so 99% of them don’t FLY, but some sadistic bastard could have tossed it from the side of the road? That would explain why it came from behind us while going 35 MPH.
Back in the car, I’m calmly trying to pull over to investigate what part of nature has violated my personal space.
And why is my son so calm?? Why is he not trying to save me???
On the side of the road, I bravely look down.
“That was already there!” The spot turned out to be a scratch from earlier.
“Yeah, but that might be what flew in …”
I followed his eyes down to the floorboard – right next to my foot.
Got out of the car and grabbed a cloth I have handy in case of such emergencies (mostly it’s for when I spill my coffee while driving.)
My son announced, “It’s still alive – it’s on it’s back.”
I could see this.
I gently (yes, gently, no sarcasm here) collected it in the cloth and walked to a nearby bush to shake the poor little thing off.
It wasn’t coming off.
Now I’m laughing – on the side of the road, shaking a blue cloth.
Bee hung on tight – until it didn’t.
I’m back in the car and we start off home again.
Nic pondered, “How did it come from BEHIND us?? It had to be going faster than us!”
“That’s not hard to believe …” I pondered back – recalling how many things pass me on the road – sloths, snails, limping pedestrians, … parked cars.
“Maybe it was suicide.” Nic concluded.
I sighed … “Bee suicide … that’s sad.”
“Have to remember to get gas.” I told myself this morning. I decided I wouldn’t do it on the way to work, but rather during my lunch hour.
Directly to work I would go.
I’m driving on the highway, which, in our town is 45 miles per hour as it’s pretty much ‘main street’ through several cities.
A desert highway with business and residential areas either side of the road for miles.
With a lot of stop lights.
I’m approaching a stop light when I see something in my lane just after the intersection.
Now, I’m a pretty decent driver. I haven’t had a ticket or accident in 28 years. When I was 16 I got a ticket for ‘inappropriate lane use’ (I should have fought that one – it was appropriate.)
And then there was the time I backed out of my parking spot in my private driveway and forgot my parents were in town.
I ended up hitting my moms parked Durango. No damage to her car, but I’m such a square, that I told on myself to my insurance company anyway.
Bottom line is – I’m cautious, aware, defensive and boring behind the wheel.
So I see this thing in my lane and I’ve gone over every scenario in my head an instant after assessing the traffic around me in each mirror.
‘Can’t drive around it – it’s illegal to change lanes in an intersection’
‘Must be something I can drive OVER because it’s there and I can’t be the first car to come across it’
‘Probably a plastic bag or a piece of cardboard’
The ‘thing’ was bright red – so I don’t know what store such a plastic bag would have come from. (Although, we do have two Adult ‘bookstores’ in town – so …)
I had only seconds to decide what to do and I chose to try straddling it and not switching my present course.
*CRUNNNNCHY DRAGGING NOISES*
This is a millisecond after I am on top of the damn thing and realize what it actually was.
I indicate, pull to the right and crunch my way into a shopping parking lot.
I then IMMEDIATELY turn the car OFF!!!!!!!!
The red thing was this:
So I’m on the side of a busy road – in a long peasant skirt, pink sweater and knee-high boots – and approach the rear of my PT Cruiser.
On my hands and knees I peer under the car to find the ‘debris’.
Gas container was bigger than I thought, and it would not come out. Not only would it not come out, but wouldn’t you know it? It actually had gas in it.
HAD gas in it.
Now most of it was on the ground … and my hands.
I tugged and tugged – it would not give.
I went to the side of the car. Maneuvered my hand underneath and grabbed hold – all the while thinking – I KNOW someone is seeing a woman on the side of the road, dressed nicely, on her hands and knees and NO ONE is stopping.
The thing finally pops out – I place the container in an upright position and pick gravel out of my knees with my gas soaked hands and return to my car.
The rest of the drive was pretty uneventful, except for all the jokes I was making in my head.
Stupid jokes like:
‘Well, I did need gas’ and ‘Been a while since I’ve been on my knees’. (My inner joker has a dirty mind – I try to ignore her – but I was inhaling gas fumes at the time.)
I’m retelling this to someone I work with and she says: “I saw that on the side of the road!!!”
“Yeah, well, I’m the one who killed it.”