Jun 18, 2012 21:41
Sunday was Father's Day, so I got to putter round the yard to very nearly my heart's content. The rhodo hedge in front, mostly (trimming down, but now by the light of the day after I can see it wants some trimming back too), and overhanging branches round the edges of the back yard.
Watched movies, too: The Names of Love / Le nom des gens in the morning, which is much less about sexual politics than the blurbs make it sound and much more about what makes us us-the combinations of ancestry, growing up, and deliberate choices-not that there isn't sex, and politics, and notable echoes of Woody Allen. Then Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows in the evening, to which I say, "You damn fool, the fall will probably kill you!" (Also, didn't Watson have a limp, up until he started outrunning artillery shells in the forest?)
And then after Sherlock Holmes, cake and prezzies. The timing may have been less than optimal-I'm not ready for a sugar rush at 9:45 p.m. when I have to go to work in the morning-but the prezzies were wonderful: new khaki sports jacket, and 1.75l of Bailey's. (Everyone seemed to think it was my fault I was surprised at cake. Is cake traditional for Father's Day? I don't think I'd realized.)
film,
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