Possibly it’s an age thing, possibly it’s a blimmin cold weather thing, but I’ve had a lot of tsssk moments lately. You know, those times when something happens and you just want to shake your head and say, ‘tsk.’ Take Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour this morning. There was a piece on heavy periods. And who did they get as an eminent medical voice on the subject? Some man. All right, he was some man who’d done some study, but as far as I’m concerned, he and Woman’s Hour both get a big ‘tsk.’ However eminient he may be, he’s hardly likely to feel that much empathy about a condition which is never, ever in a million trillion years going to affect him. Ever. Tsk.
Then, at the weekend, we went to see Fuerzabruta at the Roundhouse over in North London. Waaay over there. Through the snow, etc. So the whole thing was always going to get a bit of a tsk. Suffice to say, everyone else loved it. I suppose any man would be keen on a bunch of nymphs cavorting in an overhead swimming pool. I’m not so sure why any woman would enjoy it, though. Men in suits running on treadmills? For an hour and a half? A bit meh, a bit tsk. Sorry, I know I’m in a minority. And that makes me feel even tsk-er.
Oh dear, I’m just out of step with the world at the moment. A big tsk to me myself, then.
