Blogue d'un québécois expatrié en Angleterre. Comme toute forme d'autobiographie est constituée d'une large part de fiction, j'ai décidé de nommer le blogue Vraie Fiction.
Wednesday, 30 July 2014
A new/old Liverpool memory
Sometimes the smallest thing can trigger your memory and make you feel nostalgic. It happened to me this evening: I turned the TV on and saw a glimpse of Hollyoaks, one of the silliest TV drama/soap the British ever invented. I quickly changed the channel, because I don't watch stupid programs. That said, I did watch Hollyoaks when I was living and working in Liverpool, nearly on a daily basis. Even though I did not know and do not remember any of the characters and storylines. After a day of work and my brain turned into mush, it was the only kind of thing I could focus on. One of my housemates was watching every time it was on. She thought it was stupid, but she watched it anyway. And every time, she was commenting on the stupid plot and silly characters and bad acting, and it made it quite an enjoyable experience. In fact, watching that dumb show became one of my guilty pleasures. My housemate also used to tell me when she had seen stars from Hollyoaks, because they all lived around (according to Wikipedia the scenes are mostly on Abbey Road). In a way, it was not such a guilty pleasure. It was trash, but the sarcastic editorials of my friend gave the whole experience a sort of cultural dimension. I had a great time and I remember it fondly. And now, I cannot watch Hollyoaks. It just wouldn't be the same, and it's a stupid soap anyway.