I watched the first episode of the new Cold Feet last night.
Somehow I managed to avoid the first series almost entirely, despite having
some of it filmed in my road plus a whole two seconds when one of the male stars
– I forget which one – stopped outside my house and my front door appeared on
TV.
Of course this was in the nineties and maybe this tale of
everyday, upwardly mobile, middle class folk rang a little too true with my own
aspirations at that time, or maybe I was just being me.
Back then if everyone was loving and talking about something
I would hate and deride it simply because I could. Oh, I so loved being
differently the same and of course I was a tiny bit older than the stars of the
show and already jaded knowing how their hopes would all shatter and turn to
dust in their not too distant fictitious futures.
Only Robert Bathurst was born in the same year as I and those short ten years or so can make such a difference to the world you inhabit. Yes, I lived through the Kennedy assassinations, the Cuban missile crisis, and rickets.
Only Robert Bathurst was born in the same year as I and those short ten years or so can make such a difference to the world you inhabit. Yes, I lived through the Kennedy assassinations, the Cuban missile crisis, and rickets.
Of course by the time the nineties rolled around I had
failed relationships, my optimistic youth had de-optimised itself, I had a divorce
behind me, new relationships to deal with and no doubt living in Manchester in
a middle management, middle class, position where image was everything (what
car do you drive?) made Cold Feet far too close to home. Right outside it to be
exact. I guess you might call it highly uncomfortable watching for me back then.
So why, almost twenty years on, am I watching the new Cold
Feet?
It’s a question I struggle to answer. But I guess one answer
is for the uncomfortable comfort it gives me really. I knew back then that these
wunderkind were all heading for a fall despite their aspirations drawing them
to a perfect life. We are all going to fall in one way or another at some
point. It’s never perfect for long and I guess that’s one of life’s big
lessons; it doesn’t stand still. You can plan it, you can even begin to make it
happen, but real life has this way of shitting on your head whilst you are
trying to live your dreams and that tends to fuck things up completely.
Ultimately a fall is coming and there’s no avoiding it.
Kerplop!
Sometimes I think about running away and starting over. It
wouldn’t take much to make me happier and, as long as I stayed away from the
fairer sex, I could live a happy, peaceful and hopefully short and much fulfilled
life. My chasing days are over, and if there’s anything left to chase then I’m
buggered if I know what it is. What car do I drive? Who gives a flying fuck?
I watched the new Cold Feet and enjoyed watching that group
of friends who have lived through the waves and storms, but don’t seem to
realise that the hurricane is probably yet to come. Some of their careers have gone, some
relationships have soured or become becalmed or emptied, and each character has
transformed into an individual living in a world of his or her own making. It seems to me that they seem
to be trying to maintain a semblance of belonging, but really they are each
lonely and worried about where they are, who they are, and what is coming next.
Perhaps I was better off not watching the first time around
and I suppose I really should stop watching this new series now before it poses too many questions. Even after all
this time it remains uncomfortable watching and the lives of those characters
echo too strongly in my own mind. Of course, I wish them all happy endings, but
I can’t see it and I miss not having my future in front of me too.
I can see the fear in their eyes, the boredom, the desperation,
the realisation that not very much of before really mattered and even less will
matter in the future. I can feel the habit that’s become a responsibility to
bother with the needs and opinions of others when really there are needs and
opinions of their own to address.
Or is that just me?
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