I’ve managed to solve my ginger problem.

I thought that I was sunk after I discovered that Ginger Beer tasted like Old Lady Cat Wee that had been distilling for quite some time. But I swung by Sainsboggles this morning, on my way back to bed and remembered that Canada Dry is reputedly of ginger origin.

Of course, you and I both know that it’s never been near a bit of ginger in its life. In fact, the closest it’s ever come is that the man who invented the beverage once saw a Ginger Rogers movie, or something.

But I simply couldn’t care less. It tastes about a bazillion times better than the beer, and that’s ok by me.

Speaking of Ginger Rogers, when I went back to bed this morning I switched on the TV for soothing company (I’m lost without someone to cosset me when I’m ill - I’ve been spoiled this last week - I know they say that men are supposed to be the worst patients in the world, but the truth is, I am. See, in my mind I’m superhuman and I Can Cope With Anything, and so being ill really frustrates the hell out of me, which is why I need someone to distract me from either wallowing in self-pity or (more likely) getting up and trying to get on with life as usual and actually making myself much worse) and ended up watching Top Hat, an Astaire/Rogers b/w musical extravaganza which is just wonderfully cheesy and soothing. All those cheesy old Irving Berlin songs. That boy sure knew how to whack out a ditty, didn’t he?

But that got me to thinking how Fred Astaire is frankly the oddest looking man, the most unlikely film star ever - as he said to Audrey H in a later movie, he has a perfectly funny face.

Would he even make it near an audition these days? Doubtful. The market for rubber-faced crooners and tap-dancers is sadly undergoing a bit of a slump at present.