So the color’s going on the television. Well, it’s gone, basically. I just tone it down and pretend it’s the fifties. Not a problem. I’ll get a new set one of these days. This morning I went looking for a hockey game. Nothing but golf. Not quite the same. I swept past TCM. A pair of guys clowning behind a camel, trying to sneak out of camp. I love these Road movies. Ruffians grab Bob and Bing by the feet and drag them from behind the camel to face Anthony Quinn. But it’s not Anthony Quinn. It’s Omar Sharif. I just mistook Lawrence of Arabia for Road to Morocco. Somewhere, on some other television, that sky, a bird’s egg blue, stretches north to Aqaba. On mine it’s just a soundstage at Paramount.

I love Lawrence of Arabia, but there’s a lot more dames in Road To Morocco. Lot more jokes too.

Factoid: T.E. Lawrence–the real Lawrence of Arabia–wrote Seven Pillars of Wisdom twice. The first version he left in the back of a cab. True story. So he had to turn round and rewrite the thing from memory. That is what became the best selling book and eventually Lawrence of Arabia. The first draft popped up in Hollywood and became the Road to Morocco. Really. I swear.

Word also has it that the first draft of Julius Caesar was found in Francis Bacon’s apartment and later turned into Carry on Cleo. But that I don’t believe.

Infamy, infamy, they’ve all got it infamy.