Diana Rigg (20 July 1938 – 10 September 2020), passed away yesterday, leaving those of us of a certain age, and of a certain sex, totally bereft.
She was the original pin-up girl for my generation, with her sultry looks and her daringly revealing cat-suit, she fairly set our hearts to racing. She played Emma Peel in the TV series 'The Avengers', and she, and her 007-partner, John Steed, played by Patrick Macnee, always got their man, and us too, every time, in that long-running, 51 episode, BBC spy-series which ran from 1961-69, leaving an indelible mark on our deeply-troubled and pubescent imaginations.
A few years ago, I asked a school-boy friend of mine, Pat Kilboy, the old chestnut, as to whether he dreamed in 'Black and White', or in 'Colour'?
I was hearkening back to the days of Black and White TV, which was standard issue in Ireland, well into the early 1970's, and not just that, we also only had one TV channel, RTE 1.
His answer to my question was ...well, very specific to the time we lived in. His dad had a few cows whose milk sustained the growing and extended Kilboy family. That was not uncommon in towns and villages all around Ireland in the late-1960's. Many families were self-sufficient in ways that are alien to us today, having their own vegetables, pigs (bacon), chicken, and milk.
Pat, the eldest child, used to be tasked to go to the pasture, a mile or so outside town, at the top of Mount Pleasant hill, where his dad's cows were grazing and bring them into town, to their back-yard milking parlour, where they would spend the night. They would be walked back to the field the following morning, again by Pat, before he went to school.
Needless to add, all chores, then and now were just that, chores, inconvenient ones at that, and always had to be done at awkward or unsuitable times, for us busy kids at least. I had to walk my dad's greyhounds, up and down that same Mount Pleasant hill, racing dogs in training, walked at a fast pace, hardly stopping to sniff a lamp-post, and in doing so, Pat and I often said hi, and bye, as we escorted our very different charges, in opposite directions before our breakfast or after our tea-time.
I was a few years younger than Pat, who was perhaps 12 years of age when The Avengers series started to be shown on our single-channel TV service, an event that changed our lives, completely.
His answer to my half-in-jest question about his dreaming patterns went like this;
"I dreamed mostly of Diana Rigg (Avengers). We had 3 cows for milking to be brought in to town in winter evenings. I bet the ass off them going down Mount Pleasant to be in time for the Avengers. Me dad wondered why the milk yield was down. If he saw them running with udders flying he'd wonder no more."
Which meant of course, that Pat, and I, and many's another boy in Loughrea, dreamed happily, in glorious B&W.
Rest in Peace, Diana Rigg, and thank you, your job here is done.
A few years ago, I asked a school-boy friend of mine, Pat Kilboy, the old chestnut, as to whether he dreamed in 'Black and White', or in 'Colour'?
I was hearkening back to the days of Black and White TV, which was standard issue in Ireland, well into the early 1970's, and not just that, we also only had one TV channel, RTE 1.
His answer to my question was ...well, very specific to the time we lived in. His dad had a few cows whose milk sustained the growing and extended Kilboy family. That was not uncommon in towns and villages all around Ireland in the late-1960's. Many families were self-sufficient in ways that are alien to us today, having their own vegetables, pigs (bacon), chicken, and milk.
Pat, the eldest child, used to be tasked to go to the pasture, a mile or so outside town, at the top of Mount Pleasant hill, where his dad's cows were grazing and bring them into town, to their back-yard milking parlour, where they would spend the night. They would be walked back to the field the following morning, again by Pat, before he went to school.
Needless to add, all chores, then and now were just that, chores, inconvenient ones at that, and always had to be done at awkward or unsuitable times, for us busy kids at least. I had to walk my dad's greyhounds, up and down that same Mount Pleasant hill, racing dogs in training, walked at a fast pace, hardly stopping to sniff a lamp-post, and in doing so, Pat and I often said hi, and bye, as we escorted our very different charges, in opposite directions before our breakfast or after our tea-time.
I was a few years younger than Pat, who was perhaps 12 years of age when The Avengers series started to be shown on our single-channel TV service, an event that changed our lives, completely.
His answer to my half-in-jest question about his dreaming patterns went like this;
"I dreamed mostly of Diana Rigg (Avengers). We had 3 cows for milking to be brought in to town in winter evenings. I bet the ass off them going down Mount Pleasant to be in time for the Avengers. Me dad wondered why the milk yield was down. If he saw them running with udders flying he'd wonder no more."
Which meant of course, that Pat, and I, and many's another boy in Loughrea, dreamed happily, in glorious B&W.
Rest in Peace, Diana Rigg, and thank you, your job here is done.
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