I rarely watch normal TV unless there’s a ball being kicked or bowled. Indeed, at the time this programme was broadcast I’d landed from Eindoven. Late. Driven at dubiously high speeds from Manchester to Halifax and had joined colleagues on a night out! If you can call a Wednesday evening in Halifax that.
I got home very tired. But a triple dash to the porcelain caused by just about the worst drug side effects I’ve felt this year had me lying nervously in my bed fearing a fourth run done the stairs. It was 1.30am and it didn’t feel safe to go to sleep.
So I loaded up my BBC iplayer app to watch A Time to Live. A fairly obvious self interest for me in a dozen people who have a terminal diagnosis and have found themselves in a good place as a result.
It’s not morbid. It’s not dramatic. There’s no backstory. They’re not heroic in the classical sense. I had an emotional outburst early on, but it didn’t last. Those moments are very rare these days.
But it is real. And I suggest you put 58 minutes of your time aside to watch it.
The people in it are from mixed backgrounds. Differing ages, one as young as 23. A couple seemed a bit like me, but who knows from the four minutes they had on air! None of these real people glamourise the situation in anyway and I don’t think the film make does either.
The question of wandering off to Switzerland to end things was raised. I’m not sure I could do that. But I’m glad others can choose. One chose to leave her husband on diagnosis. Wow!
I’ll add no more. I think I’d be recommending it if I still expected to get past eighty. If you want to, take an hour out and watch it.