TV's constipation?

THE LIMITS OF SQUEAM

Like most people we've been watching a lot of TV during lockdown.  Although we've watched plenty of shows from this country, and the wider UK, much of our entertainment has been from other European countries, rather than the ubiquitous US stuff.  Despite the language differences we feel more at home culturally with the 'Old World', as it was once known.  And the Walter Presents catalogue on All 4 offers plenty of choice to explore.

One of the best of that bunch has been the Catalan thriller Nit i Dia (Night and Day) featuring forensic pathologist Sara Grau as the lead character.  There have been two series so far, each of thirteen episodes, and well worth a look if you enjoy a good crime series with plenty of suspense and twists.  Of course, as with all fiction, suspension of disbelief is often required.  But sometimes there are such obvious deviations from reality that you wonder why the director chose to do so.  I saw something in the final episode of the second series that made me wonder how film makers determine where our limits of prudishness should lie.

Spoiler alert - if you think this is a series you'll want to watch you might want to stop reading now, because there's a certain amount of plot detail I need to go into to make my point.  Or if you're like me and forget stuff easily it may not matter!

Our heroine is been held captive by the baddie, one wrist handcuffed to the ceiling framework above.  She manages to kill him, but nobody knows she's there awaiting rescue so she has to devise her own way out.  Which requires the severance of one of her own body parts.  While we don't see the part itself being hacked off, there's more than enough blood and sound effects and blade action to get the point across strongly, and this is not a scene for the overly squeamish.  But we're now well used to our modern thrillers involving a lot more blood and guts than Dixon of Dock Green stretched to.  Our societal disgust levels aren't what they were.

Yet in another area of sensitivity we don't seem to have moved on much.  Sara is held in the room for four or five days.  While her captor lives he allows her food and water.  Under those circumstances it would be a bit much to expect someone not to have a few bladder and bowel movements.  But there's not an inkling of a tinkling, no notion of a motion.  No wee smelly piles on the floor - and no wee at all.  Her clothes look crumpled and grubby, but not soiled.  

So it seems OK to show someone cutting into their own body, a rarity to most of us I hope, but not something every one of us does every day.  Is the piss and shit taboo still to be broken?

Of Covid and breathlessness and boots

EXCUSES, EXCUSES...

In optimistic mode I have signed up to do Kiltwalk again.  While the Glasgow, Aberdeen and Dundee events have all had to be cancelled, the Edinburgh walk isn't due to take place until mid September, so there's a decent chance that restrictions might have been lifted far enough by then for it to go ahead.  And having been ill earlier this year I've not felt wholly confident in my own fitness.  Those doubts have meant me not pushing for sponsorship so far, but if everything looks positive in August I'll be back in nagging mode...

Some readers might recall this post from March where I pondered whether the bug I'd had was 'the' virus or not.  I still don't know.  Whether it was or not it did take a lot out of me, as I lost appetite and weight, got very little exercise during the period of self isolation and in the early weeks of the lockdown, and felt a bit weak well into April.

So when I started to do some longer walks in early May, with the intent of seeing how I'd feel, there was some trepidation.  But six miles was no problem, eight easy enough and I started to go quicker.  I'm up to about twelve and a bit now, just over three hours walking, and enjoying it.  But for one slight worry.

Back in March the worst of my symptoms was the breathlessness.  That really only lasted for about three days, and wasn't bad enough to keep me in bed.  I just got very tired very quickly, had to sit down a lot, and sometimes found myself having to stop half way up the stairs to wait for my legs to function again.  I was still sluggish for two or three weeks after, still had a tightness in my chest a lot of the time, but it all seemed to have passed well before the end of April.  Now we're hearing that the damaging effects of covid-19 could last much longer than the period of infection, perhaps even for life, so the question as to whether or not one has had it becomes a bit more than academic.  It's more of a risk for those who were most seriously affected of course, but it seems even minor cases like mine could still suffer some consequences.

Human beings are suggestible.  Especially when it comes to anything remotely medical.  Who hasn't Googled their symptoms and then worried that they have something serious?  We easily think the worst.  So I wish I hadn't heard about this 'long term damage' theory, because it can't help but put thoughts into my head.  Yesterday's walk felt good, and 12.3 miles in 3 hours and 9 minutes isn't too far off the pace I hope to be able to walk at in September.  But there was a point where I had to throttle back, knowing my body didn't want to keep pushing on.  And it wasn't down to my legs not cooperating, as I'd expect at this stage, but a feeling of breathlessness, a tightness of the chest.  Covid damage?  Or fitness still lacking?  Or an overactive imagination producing psychosomatic symptoms.  Or just getting old...?  Who knows?  But the feeling passed after a while and I was able to push on, only limited by these tired old legs.

I don't know the answer.  I do know I'll keep pushing on.  Last year I completed the route in 3 hours 33 minutes, and I'd love to beat three and half hours this year, assuming the walk goes ahead.  It could be something health related that stops me doing that time, but I think I might have something else I can put the blame.  It looks like the route may have to change due to some bridge works in progress.  Always handy to have a pre-prepared excuse...