Spiral (or Engrenages in French France) is a French cop show. I luuuuurve it. It's violent and angry and sweary and makes Paris look ugly and everybody in it is morally compromised and it's GREAT.
Herself and I have watched 3 series on DVD and towards the end we had to ration our intake, to stave off the inevitable. Sadly for us, Season 4 has only just been made, so I'll have to wait a good few months before my addiction can be fed. Hm - I can feel a boxset coming on...
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
Tuesday, 10 January 2012
223. The Night Sky
Happy 2012, bleaders!
(Sorry to be tardy posting, had a bit on.)
Anyway, in Suffolk between Christmas and early January, the skies above were fair twinkly with stars. I've witnessed a starry night before, of course, but the rich tapestry of the night sky unfurled itself in a way that was quite mesmerising this time. Don't know why - maybe it was the Stilton.
I could even see some Milky Way - it was THAT clear and bright. Lovely, I tell you. Lovely.
But it was like being a small child again, and not knowing how to read. Herself is no good to me - she can do the big saucepan (which I KNOW is called something sensible really, so don't write in) but that's about it. A kindly friend told me that the three stars in a line was Orion's Belt, which was very exciting news. As we walked along the seafront, me tripping over small dogs, bollards and bins full of chip wrappers, too busy studying the stars to bother looking where I was going, Herself said wearily, "There's probably an App for your phone, you know. You could probably just point the phone at the sky and it would tell you what you're looking at."
Bleader, she was correct! It's called Night Sky (original) and cost 69 of your British pence. So now I will become extremely au fait with celestial patterns and will wow people with my knowledge. I'm excited. But of course there isn't really a night sky in London because of all the pollution, so I'll have to wait until this weekend to try it out. Look out for further reports!
(Sorry to be tardy posting, had a bit on.)
Anyway, in Suffolk between Christmas and early January, the skies above were fair twinkly with stars. I've witnessed a starry night before, of course, but the rich tapestry of the night sky unfurled itself in a way that was quite mesmerising this time. Don't know why - maybe it was the Stilton.
I could even see some Milky Way - it was THAT clear and bright. Lovely, I tell you. Lovely.
But it was like being a small child again, and not knowing how to read. Herself is no good to me - she can do the big saucepan (which I KNOW is called something sensible really, so don't write in) but that's about it. A kindly friend told me that the three stars in a line was Orion's Belt, which was very exciting news. As we walked along the seafront, me tripping over small dogs, bollards and bins full of chip wrappers, too busy studying the stars to bother looking where I was going, Herself said wearily, "There's probably an App for your phone, you know. You could probably just point the phone at the sky and it would tell you what you're looking at."
Bleader, she was correct! It's called Night Sky (original) and cost 69 of your British pence. So now I will become extremely au fait with celestial patterns and will wow people with my knowledge. I'm excited. But of course there isn't really a night sky in London because of all the pollution, so I'll have to wait until this weekend to try it out. Look out for further reports!
Wednesday, 21 December 2011
222. The Prisoner of Zenda
Do children read The Prisoner of Zenda any more? If not, why not? It's GREAT!
A year or so ago I decided that I didn't want to read (or re-read) any of the books at the beach, so I took myself to the little bookshop in Whitstable for a peruse. And there, sitting on a shelf, with a rather natty red livery, was The Prisoner of Zenda. My original copy is a paperback Puffin Classic, well thumbed and covered in food and hot chocolate stains. I am a neater reader now, if nothing else.
This is the basic story. Rudolf Rassendyll, rich young layabout, takes himself off to Ruritania for a holiday. While there, he happens upon the man who is about to be crowned King (as you do) and AMAZING! they could be twins. They have a great meal and lots of wine and in the morning the King is gone! Shock, horror, but he's meant to be crowned today and if he's not his evil half-brother Black Michael will usurp the throne and darkness will descend.
So Rudolf shaves off his beard and is crowned in the King's place. Michael, who has of course kidnapped the King, is not happy. Chuck in a beautiful Princess, a dastardly blackguard, two faithful helpers, lots of gun and sword battles and an utterly FANTABULOUS denouement and you have one of the best action stories ever ever ever.
This is probably why there have been two movies - with Douglas Fairbanks in one, and Stewart Granger in the other. It's hard to say which is the better, but Deborah Kerr plays the Princess in the latter and my feelings for Deborah Kerr are well known, so...
Anthony Hope (Sir Anthony Hope Hawkins to you) was a bit of a Stella Gibbons - he wrote lots of books but is most famous for one overwhelming stroke of genius.
Don't sit about this Christmas waiting for the tellybox to provide entertainment and excitement, pick up a copy of The Prisoner of Zenda and immerse yourself in the most buckling swash of all time.
A year or so ago I decided that I didn't want to read (or re-read) any of the books at the beach, so I took myself to the little bookshop in Whitstable for a peruse. And there, sitting on a shelf, with a rather natty red livery, was The Prisoner of Zenda. My original copy is a paperback Puffin Classic, well thumbed and covered in food and hot chocolate stains. I am a neater reader now, if nothing else.
This is the basic story. Rudolf Rassendyll, rich young layabout, takes himself off to Ruritania for a holiday. While there, he happens upon the man who is about to be crowned King (as you do) and AMAZING! they could be twins. They have a great meal and lots of wine and in the morning the King is gone! Shock, horror, but he's meant to be crowned today and if he's not his evil half-brother Black Michael will usurp the throne and darkness will descend.
So Rudolf shaves off his beard and is crowned in the King's place. Michael, who has of course kidnapped the King, is not happy. Chuck in a beautiful Princess, a dastardly blackguard, two faithful helpers, lots of gun and sword battles and an utterly FANTABULOUS denouement and you have one of the best action stories ever ever ever.
This is probably why there have been two movies - with Douglas Fairbanks in one, and Stewart Granger in the other. It's hard to say which is the better, but Deborah Kerr plays the Princess in the latter and my feelings for Deborah Kerr are well known, so...
Anthony Hope (Sir Anthony Hope Hawkins to you) was a bit of a Stella Gibbons - he wrote lots of books but is most famous for one overwhelming stroke of genius.
Don't sit about this Christmas waiting for the tellybox to provide entertainment and excitement, pick up a copy of The Prisoner of Zenda and immerse yourself in the most buckling swash of all time.
221. The End is Nigh
At 5.30 this evening I will be FREE! freefreefree!
I'm going to get my thatch made into something bearable, so that Herself stops looking at me strangely. Poor woman, she puts up with enough, without me turning into some kind of neanderthal woman - rubbish hair, rubbish eyebrows, strange skin. Got to GET IT TOGETHER. Take a leaf out of my dear departed Granny's book.
I'm going to bake a Santiago Tart. Apparently you have to GRATE the pastry. Should be interesting.
I'm going to make the Christmas gravy. Chicken wings. That's all I'm saying.
I discovered that some little stocking gifts I bought were not fit for purpose, so I have to do some extra shopping.
I'm going to make the Hound some festive neck-wear, so she feels involved.
I'm going to make cheese palmiers and that scrummy cheesey dip with the caraway seeds.
I'm going to enjoy Christmas.
And then I'm going to Suffolk, where I will write, run and relax.
FREEDOM! I won't let you down.
I'm going to get my thatch made into something bearable, so that Herself stops looking at me strangely. Poor woman, she puts up with enough, without me turning into some kind of neanderthal woman - rubbish hair, rubbish eyebrows, strange skin. Got to GET IT TOGETHER. Take a leaf out of my dear departed Granny's book.
I'm going to bake a Santiago Tart. Apparently you have to GRATE the pastry. Should be interesting.
I'm going to make the Christmas gravy. Chicken wings. That's all I'm saying.
I discovered that some little stocking gifts I bought were not fit for purpose, so I have to do some extra shopping.
I'm going to make the Hound some festive neck-wear, so she feels involved.
I'm going to make cheese palmiers and that scrummy cheesey dip with the caraway seeds.
I'm going to enjoy Christmas.
And then I'm going to Suffolk, where I will write, run and relax.
FREEDOM! I won't let you down.
Friday, 16 December 2011
220. One for you, One for me
Westfield shopping centre, London. 09.20 hours, Thursday 15th December 2011.
It's just me, the cleaners and the security guards. I dredge the recesses of my memory for the location of the wonderfully huge branch of UniQlo I plundered so successfully last year, and am literally the first person in the shop. And this is how it went:
"Tights for her, t-shirt for me. T-shirt for him, cashmere cardigan for me. Gloves for him, another T-shirt for me. Ooh, this is fun. This is what Christmas should be about! Shirt for her, thermal leggings for me..."
I continued this excellent policy for much of the rest of the day, and got home with an empty bank account and a smile on my face. I can highly recommend it. After all, you know as well as I do that at least 65% of your Christmas presents are going to be dull, tacky, useless or all three, so why not avoid disappointment by treating yourself to something you know you'll really like? One for you, one for me.
It's just me, the cleaners and the security guards. I dredge the recesses of my memory for the location of the wonderfully huge branch of UniQlo I plundered so successfully last year, and am literally the first person in the shop. And this is how it went:
"Tights for her, t-shirt for me. T-shirt for him, cashmere cardigan for me. Gloves for him, another T-shirt for me. Ooh, this is fun. This is what Christmas should be about! Shirt for her, thermal leggings for me..."
I continued this excellent policy for much of the rest of the day, and got home with an empty bank account and a smile on my face. I can highly recommend it. After all, you know as well as I do that at least 65% of your Christmas presents are going to be dull, tacky, useless or all three, so why not avoid disappointment by treating yourself to something you know you'll really like? One for you, one for me.
Wednesday, 14 December 2011
219. A Sneaky Morning Off
The suits haven't come to brief me, so I've had the morning off. Shhh. It's great when that happens, particularly when I've been working hard and am a bit grumpy. I catch up on all the blogs and other e-phemera I like reading, whizz around the internet following various unconnected trains of thought and usually spend at least £15 on books and music.
Then I catch up on my own blog (hence three entries in ten minutes) and enjoy the feeling of rolling that little ball of guilt off my shoulders.
Today I have also had a couple of good ideas for my Christmas present shopping trip tomorrow.
I should go and offer my services to the general writing pool - and maybe I will. In a minute...
Then I catch up on my own blog (hence three entries in ten minutes) and enjoy the feeling of rolling that little ball of guilt off my shoulders.
Today I have also had a couple of good ideas for my Christmas present shopping trip tomorrow.
I should go and offer my services to the general writing pool - and maybe I will. In a minute...
218. Christmas Movies
Now, we all know that I've got rubbish taste in everything but books, birds and bowwows, and that extends to Christmas movies, too. I've been making a list of the films I've got to watch in the next three weeks or miss my annual chance, and they are:
1) Love, Actually
2) Elf
3) Santa Claus - the Movie
4) Miracle on 34th Street (the modern one)
5) Scrooge (with Alastair Sim)
6) "Merry Christmas you old Building and Loan"
7) Great Expectations (the David Lean one)
But there's reading to be done, too. Christmas is when the best writing for children really comes into its own, so this time every year I have to read John Masefield's The Box of Delights and Susan Cooper's The Dark is Rising (see previous blog post).
Ooh, fun! I'm excited now...
1) Love, Actually
2) Elf
3) Santa Claus - the Movie
4) Miracle on 34th Street (the modern one)
5) Scrooge (with Alastair Sim)
6) "Merry Christmas you old Building and Loan"
7) Great Expectations (the David Lean one)
But there's reading to be done, too. Christmas is when the best writing for children really comes into its own, so this time every year I have to read John Masefield's The Box of Delights and Susan Cooper's The Dark is Rising (see previous blog post).
Ooh, fun! I'm excited now...
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