It has happened gradually over the years. So gradual in fact that I didn’t notice what was happening.
My life seems to have gone from the occasional night in watching something interesting on television, to the occasional night out. These days, what I watch on television has changed, too. There was a time when I would watch a program on the box from start to end, then turn the television off, make myself and my Grumpy Old Man a cup of tea and discuss what I’d seen and its possible implications.
These days, the Grumpy Old Man and I start almost every evening commiserating over the sad lack of choice when it comes to watching television. We find ourselves asking “Is Pie In The Sky on tonight?” or “What season of Midsomer Murders is this from, do you think?”, though it matters little. It surprises me greatly that anyone could watch endless hours of television — wasn’t there a survey some years ago that had a figure of in excess of 40 hours a week for over-60s? — because there is nothing of any substance on!
The Grumpy Old Man and I quite like a good murder mystery. That said, it is quite rare these days for either of us to see the end of any show, regardless of how much we want to know who dunnit. Chances are we will fall asleep somewhere along the way. Occasionally, we’re off with the fairies before the opening credits have finished.
I’ve heard that watching television slows down a person’s brain activity, but now that I’ve reached a ‘certain age’ it seems things aren’t just slowing down, they’re coming to a grinding halt. I refuse to accept falling asleep in front of the television is just another sign I’m getting old. It’s no more a sign than my grumpiness, which as far as I’m concerned is really just a measure of my judgement on a world that seems increasingly nonsensical.
Perhaps the real reason I keep falling asleep in front of the television has nothing to do with age. Perhaps I’m really tired. Or perhaps it’s because I’ve lost interest in all the rubbish being served up as ‘entertainment’.