Watched another episode of the UK TV sitcom series "Good Neighbors" last night with her Aimee-ness. Deja vu all over again. Titled "The Good Life" when it first aired in 1973 Britain, this sitcom tells the story of a couple, two very down to earth "self-sufficiency" enthusiasts living in suburban England, complete with pigs, chickens, and goat. Most of the laughs come from their interaction with their stuffy, snobby neighbors, who have a "regular" life.
I hadn't seen this show for years, of course, although it was a family favorite when I was a kid. Here in the states, they had to change the title so as not to infringe on Helen and Scott Nearing's famous Good Life franchise of how-to sustainability books, some of which are set in Maine.
We don't need a TV sitcom to remind us we live a weird life. I get that feeling every time I find myself herding chickens, or medicating sheep. Or traipsing manure from my big boots all down the executive hallways of Unity College. Aimee, being the north east expert on sea squirt sex, probably has a completely different twist on things, even weirder.
But it does have it's compensations in humor. Or is that humour?