I’m not sure why, but I’ve struggled to find anything of consequence to write about for the last few days. Normally I can be relied upon to spout hundreds of words each day about nothing in particular, which I suppose proves that nothing is something in a roundabout way.
Trying to write anything this evening is proving difficult because I’m sitting on the couch in the lounge (after the kids have gone to bed) binge-watching Red Dwarf on Netflix. I’m not entirely sure Red Dwarf is really known about outside of the UK – it was a sci-fi comedy TV show broadcast from the late 1980s through to the early 1990s (this is where some nerd will remind me that it also re-appeared in the late 1990s, and then for another appearance a couple of years ago).
I think it’s fair to say that Red Dwarf hasn’t aged very well. It hasn’t dated as badly as The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, or Blakes Seven, but then they don’t exactly set a very high bar.
If you’re wondering why I know about all these science fiction shows, I have my Dad to thank. I grew up on a diet of Star Trek re-runs, Space 1999, The Six Million Dollar Man, The Bionic Woman, and countless other science-fiction TV shows. I should probably shout out “Buck Rodgers in the 25th Century”, which hasn’t aged at all – or at least Erin Grey’s figure in the stereotypically sexist 1970s spandex space uniform hasn’t aged.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find the box-set of Buck Rodgers, which I may or may not have bought quite some time ago and forgotten all about.