Day Off
A day off work.
I gave the house a Deep Clean (a step beyond the usual bog-standard weekly clean) and treated myself to a trip to the launderette. I was going to go to the gym but had lunch at 3pm, and watched three episodes of The Mighty Boosh and then starting prevaricating on the internet. Now it's 18:22, and it's too late to go to the gym. I still haven't decided whether to go for a run (in the cold darkness) or have a bath.
My birthday dinner was on Saturday night. Thirteen people came, including me. It would have been a bit weird if I hadn't been there.
Yesterday I saw The Lovely Bones. Saoirse Ronan and Stanley Tucci were startlingly convincing, the Brian Eno score was excellent, and I was impressed by the use of Song to the Siren (the This Mortal Coil version). On the downside, the dialogue sometimes verged on trite/cheesy. I can't stop thinking about it, though - and that's a good thing. It's the films that dissipate into nothing afterwards that I actively dislike. Peter Jackson went all Terry Gilliam for the limbo-world imagery - there were touches of The Imaginarium Of Dr Parnassus in there. Curious to read the novel now.
I gave the house a Deep Clean (a step beyond the usual bog-standard weekly clean) and treated myself to a trip to the launderette. I was going to go to the gym but had lunch at 3pm, and watched three episodes of The Mighty Boosh and then starting prevaricating on the internet. Now it's 18:22, and it's too late to go to the gym. I still haven't decided whether to go for a run (in the cold darkness) or have a bath.
My birthday dinner was on Saturday night. Thirteen people came, including me. It would have been a bit weird if I hadn't been there.
Yesterday I saw The Lovely Bones. Saoirse Ronan and Stanley Tucci were startlingly convincing, the Brian Eno score was excellent, and I was impressed by the use of Song to the Siren (the This Mortal Coil version). On the downside, the dialogue sometimes verged on trite/cheesy. I can't stop thinking about it, though - and that's a good thing. It's the films that dissipate into nothing afterwards that I actively dislike. Peter Jackson went all Terry Gilliam for the limbo-world imagery - there were touches of The Imaginarium Of Dr Parnassus in there. Curious to read the novel now.