Game Shows and Waiting

In life and death there is a lot of waiting. It requires patience. We like to find ways to bide our time and there have never been more methods available to occupy it. The aim is to keep you in the present because the past can make you feel sad and the future is frightening.

I have always enjoyed counting. There is nothing quite like running through numbers to keep you in the present but you have to count something: steps, lengths of the pool, pages left in your book. Reading, playing an instrument or just tapping out a rhythm with a pen on the table can anchor you in time and space.  As can tv, games like candy crush and a spot of Twitter procrastination.

 Psychologists write long articles about mindfulness and breathing, telling you, with an implied wag of the finger that modern life is stopping you live your best most present life. They warn that modern life is filled with distractions. It is and thank goodness for them. Sometimes, being mindful and present is hard. You do your best. You keep your life in separate boxes; a truly compartmentalised life (try saying that on 3 hours sleep - or even doing it).

Games shows have become my new favourite distraction. It’s true, I’ve always enjoyed a quiz. The evening quiz shows like University Challenge and Only Connect stretch your brain but sometimes the future is too big and scary for these difficult quizzes to become a proper distraction. Daytime game shows are a whole new revelation. They suck you in with their seemingly easy questions but no one ever wins because of impossible rules or gimmicks. Tipping Point asks, “Which prime minister was Boris Johnson’s book, the Churchill Factor about.” You know the contestant is going to collect their counter and spend ten minutes deciding which slot to put it in. Those games at the penny arcade are fun because you rattle through a pot of 2ps in a minute but you wait to see. “Margaret Thatcher,” the contestant answers and you should lose interest but somehow you’re hooked. Tenable is like Pointless in that it asks questions that have lots of answers. In Pointless you have to find the least common answer and in Tenable it’s the top ten answers and nobody ever knows all ten of the busiest racecourses in the UK. Babushka is a new one that no one will ever win. I’ve not seen it yet but my sister has described it to me: easy questions, and you get to open a Russian doll with nothing inside and you lose all your money or hard questions and you don’t get to open the doll.

There must be a market for a new TV game show that would keep out unwelcome thoughts.

In the evening, at the pool, I met some friends. They go for ‘Swim and Chat’ and I could hear their conversation breaking through my counting. As with all women my age, they discussed their children, the state of the education system, their aches and pains and moaned about their husbands. One husband has an online shopping habit. Long gone are the days when a husband would sit happily browsing through the Screwfix direct catalogue dreaming of a power tool but not being prepared to do the paperwork to actually buy something. Now, it’s one-click ordering and the new toy arrives via a slightly harassed looking woman in a rusty car.  His latest toy was an endoscope. Counting was no longer working. I needed to know. What did he need an endoscope for?
“It will come in useful for finding things down the back of radiators,” my friend said with one eyebrow raised and a twist in her mouth that could be interpreted as either anger or amusement.
“Oh,” we replied. There’s not a lot you can say to that.
After a while, the conversation moved through all the possible uses and we settled on a new game show. Nick and His Endoscope, or Through The Orafice. The idea started as a party game. He could be sent into different rooms and the guests would have to guess where he has put it from the image on the screen. We imagined it’s transfer to TV. We imagined the voiceover man. “And now over to Nick with his endoscope.” “What lives in an orafice like this.”

I’m sure it will be a hit. I think I’ll given Endamol a ring later.