Monthly Archives: February 2021

NCIS – not many left to kill





This might not be enough. But then there was no warning at all of spoilers when Daughter stumbled on the bad news for NCIS episode seven. Although I suppose one could have guessed some of it, by paying attention.

So, I firmly believe it was right for someone to die from Covid. It’s realistic and it might tell some doubters what’s what. It also only works if it’s a longstanding character, who you know and like. And from a practical point of view, it is often worth not killing the main characters. Although, consider the impact!

So we, and Jimmy, have lost Mrs Palmer, and their young daughter her mother.

We now have a veritable stable of what I call John Wayne characters; men whose wives are dead. It’s too much. Not only is there only one more wife who could be killed off – and I sincerely hope not – but there are no male equivalents. Neither Sloane nor Kasie nor Bishop have partners.

There has been talk of losing Sloane. She wants to run a bar in Costa Rica. Maybe. Personally I thought she looked more like she’s ill but is trying to hide it by talking about Costa Rica. I am probably wrong. It’d be ‘nice’ for a character to leave willingly, and while still alive.

They wore face masks at last, now that Covid has caught up with them. Possibly not always worn correctly as far as time and place is concerned, but this is fiction. It’s enough that they do.

We need more new characters being introduced. Not necessarily to kill them off, but the team can’t really spare anyone else now. And please keep Ducky on his computer screen, where he will be much safer.

Letting the side down

I have to admit to feeling disappointed, but greatly relieved we had already watched to the end of The Mandalorian. While I don’t like having past enjoyment ruined after the fact, it would have been worse watching Gina Carano in this wonderful series, knowing what we know now.

I had liked the fact that they made her role female, a fighting female, at that. And I liked seeing someone who did what she did without being impossibly stick thin or looking like she’d just come from her hair stylist. I felt she – by which I probably mean her character – did something for women.

Instead it seems Gina is just another crazy or brainwashed supporter of you-know-who (and I don’t mean Voldemort).

I was going to say, why don’t people learn to keep their unsavoury opinions to themselves, in order not to jeopardise their careers? But perhaps that would be worse; having someone like that hide behind a normal facade.

She’s not the only one for me, this winter, having just seen off someone I’ve known for over fifty years, someone almost exploding with indignation over how unfair life in the US will be [under ‘socialism’], and forgetting decent manners and any of the human kindness they previously possessed.

That’s what saddens me. That someone like you-know-who can ruin the lives of people like these two women, and anyone who had happened to like them. Before.

Deliver my Meze

I have no olive oil. Some time ago I took the executive decision to only stock one oil, and it’s not olive.

It would have been useful last night when assembling the Meze that had come all the way to Scotland from Arabica London. I know. It’s crazy and it’s wasteful. But my part of the world is a Lebanese desert, by which I mean, we don’t have the restaurants. And we’re obviously not allowed to go to them anyway.

After buying her brother a Meze selection for his birthday recently, Daughter extended her generosity and ordered one for me/us as well. It tasted delicious (if you don’t count the fact that I don’t care for Tabbouleh in general) and in the end we enjoyed a nice meal, the Resident IT Consultant and I.

I’d had no idea there was so much preparation to do, however, for what I erroneously had assumed to be cold dishes only. There was some heating, requiring a couple of oven trays. Even foregoing serving dishes and sticking with the plastic boxes, I still used up a lot of plates and bowls and spoons.

But the main problem was not the washing up, it was the lack of olive oil. And some other toppings and garnishes. Plus there was no dessert. These were all things that were meant to have travelled up north as well, only didn’t.

I guesstimated and substituted and went without. And as I said, it was delicious. But there was a sweaty period when I was juggling the unexpected chef tasks instead of sitting down to eat the result of someone else’s labours.

The Hummus was lovely, but the very best was the Muhammara. I’ll have to have that again one day. And in the end we were too full to eat dessert, so my Lidl Baklawa ersatz pudding brought out from the freezer was never wanted.