Free parking
With the television airwaves filling up with more and more adverts interspersed with rubbish programs, other pursuits are starting to take precedence to pass the evening hours. Big Brother is a case in point. It should be consigned to Room 101, destroyed by its own creation.
Last night, while I was enjoying my first chilled red of the year after dinner with friends, I pondered why in the world the UK consumed 5 million less bottles of wine in the first 16 weeks of 2006 compared to the same period last year. This is a 1.5% decline, causing ripples of surprise in the wine industry. With this in mind, avoiding the lure of television, we all retired to the sitting room to play Monopoly and made a considerable dent in the wine deficit.
I had this romantic vision of the Monopoly from my childhood, where the notes seemed real (500 pounds was also a small fortune), and the pieces where forged into elaborate designs from semi precious metals, effortlessly sliding around London on a beautifully crafted board in Farrow and Ball style colours. We had the Cambridge version, so no Old Kent Road or Mayfair. Unsurprisingly the modern build quality seemed poor. The notes were inseparable and all the same size. The board was made up of Cambridge places that bore no relation to each other geographically and were plastered with advertising logos.
My mind transformed into an overladen 'Buckaroo' mule, and past Monopoly memories, previously languishing comfortably, were rudely thrown off into a heap of cheap tack.
Concentration waned as I switched on the box for some background entertainment, and I was drawn into Amer Khan dancing around some poor beaten boxer, not noticing all the rent that was due to me. 'Free Parking' was fast becoming my only chance of victory.
Don't despair, there is hope for the board game as an alternative to television in the form of the wordsmith's game of Scrabble, the megalomaniac's game of Risk or even Mouse Trap, to mention but a few. Perhaps the modern London version of Monopoly retains some charm, but I think I will search out an old traditional set next time.
Last night, while I was enjoying my first chilled red of the year after dinner with friends, I pondered why in the world the UK consumed 5 million less bottles of wine in the first 16 weeks of 2006 compared to the same period last year. This is a 1.5% decline, causing ripples of surprise in the wine industry. With this in mind, avoiding the lure of television, we all retired to the sitting room to play Monopoly and made a considerable dent in the wine deficit.
I had this romantic vision of the Monopoly from my childhood, where the notes seemed real (500 pounds was also a small fortune), and the pieces where forged into elaborate designs from semi precious metals, effortlessly sliding around London on a beautifully crafted board in Farrow and Ball style colours. We had the Cambridge version, so no Old Kent Road or Mayfair. Unsurprisingly the modern build quality seemed poor. The notes were inseparable and all the same size. The board was made up of Cambridge places that bore no relation to each other geographically and were plastered with advertising logos.
My mind transformed into an overladen 'Buckaroo' mule, and past Monopoly memories, previously languishing comfortably, were rudely thrown off into a heap of cheap tack.
Concentration waned as I switched on the box for some background entertainment, and I was drawn into Amer Khan dancing around some poor beaten boxer, not noticing all the rent that was due to me. 'Free Parking' was fast becoming my only chance of victory.
Don't despair, there is hope for the board game as an alternative to television in the form of the wordsmith's game of Scrabble, the megalomaniac's game of Risk or even Mouse Trap, to mention but a few. Perhaps the modern London version of Monopoly retains some charm, but I think I will search out an old traditional set next time.
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