Killing Bear Grylls

We had a lie-in until my stomach started growling. 

I do like a Sunday morning lie-in. I get to catch up on your blips, we as a family get to move at our own pace and can dictate when we are ready for our croissants.

It was just as well we did have a lazy morning (aside from bumping into Mr and Mrs ayearinthelife in town. I had to shield my eyes from the glare of his trainers - fortunately, he’s cool enough to make them work with his ensemble) as it was the precursor to a busy afternoon when we were joined by LadyV and her girls. There followed much fun and laughter with a trip to the playground (pictured here) thrown in for good measure.

Over the years, there have been many important things discussed and agreed over my dinner table. There’s been laughter, tears, anger and even acceptance, particularly on the girls’ last visit when we all agreed that m’boy was worse than Donald Trump. However, I never thought we would quite descend into Lord of the Flies-esque anarchic bloodletting, but as the wee ones and guests sat there menacingly banging the table and chanting “Kill Bear Grylls” over and over, I did begin to wonder…

Fortunately, (and to the best of my knowledge) Bear Grylls is absolutely fine and this was as a result of nothing more than an interactive TV show they had been watching where the viewer gets to pick what Bear does next to get himself out of a jam. Rather than helping poor Bear get to the end of a challenge unscathed, they seemed more intent on killing him off as soon as possible. The last one I was party to, saw him almost disappearing off the edge of a snow-covered cliff after an ill-advised attempt at “glissading”. How quickly “fun” can turn to “almost certain death”.

Eventually we parted ways and then with the wee ones in bed, it was time for the Happy Valley finale, which was excellent and whilst understated, was never anti-climatic (looking at you, Line of Doody). Great show. Get it watched.