More of the same/back to the future
Week three of my rebuild and recuperate plan went pretty well, by which I mean that I got an appropriate amount of paid work done, including hunting down a new laptop, caught up on a couple of overdue chores and have managed to take a third consecutive weekend off. I think that may be more weekends off this month than I managed in the whole of 2016. :)
[Cut for length. Content as per tags]Friday was A's day off, so (after we were done with shopping etc) I persuaded him to join me in checking out a new club, Sabotage, which was a nineties metal thing. We got there in time to take advantage of the cheap list entry and were rewarded with the Dome looking not unlike a school disco and playing literally nothing I even recognised for the first 45 minutes. Things did improve somewhat after that, and there were a few things worth dancing to in the rest of the time we stayed for. Pretty much everyone appeared to have gotten the memo about going back to the nineties - and especially pretending that last year never happened - and most of the clothing being worn could have come from anywhere between about 1980 and now, but most educated time-travellers would have spotted that the various people taking selfies on their phones were not being period-appropriate. ;)
Last night we caught a late film, Underworld: Blood Wars, for which it turned out we had the entire cinema to ourselves. Biggest selling points included several people/outfits who/which were tres sexy, a huge number of fight scenes which were decently choreographed and Charles Dance (as one of the vampire council members) earning every penny of whatever they paid him for pretending not to know the script was utter dreck. The main minus points were the stereotyped Big Bad (woman is sexually dominant and possibly bi, so is, of course, a deranged power-seeker - yawn) and the thing where the script-writers dealt with the need to cram vast swathes of exposition in between the fight scenes by having characters tell each other things they clearly both knew or things which were only tenuously connected to what had just happened or was being talked about. The most excruciating example was the bit where one character expresses condolences on the sudden, violent death of another's father in the previous scene - and the response is something along the lines of 'I never really knew him. I can't really remember my mother, either...' It wasn't a complete waste of a couple of hours, but I wouldn't be astonished if it turns out to be the weakest film I see all year.
What I didn't do this weekend was go on the Women's March, partly because of the start time and partly because I couldn't face the probable size of the crowds. I was delighted to see how many people were more together than me, both in London and world-wide, and I loved many of the photographed placards which showed up in my Facebook feed. My money is on The Drumpf resigning or being impeached before four years are up, but I rather imagine that there will be plenty more causes for protest before that day comes.
[Cut for length. Content as per tags]Friday was A's day off, so (after we were done with shopping etc) I persuaded him to join me in checking out a new club, Sabotage, which was a nineties metal thing. We got there in time to take advantage of the cheap list entry and were rewarded with the Dome looking not unlike a school disco and playing literally nothing I even recognised for the first 45 minutes. Things did improve somewhat after that, and there were a few things worth dancing to in the rest of the time we stayed for. Pretty much everyone appeared to have gotten the memo about going back to the nineties - and especially pretending that last year never happened - and most of the clothing being worn could have come from anywhere between about 1980 and now, but most educated time-travellers would have spotted that the various people taking selfies on their phones were not being period-appropriate. ;)
Last night we caught a late film, Underworld: Blood Wars, for which it turned out we had the entire cinema to ourselves. Biggest selling points included several people/outfits who/which were tres sexy, a huge number of fight scenes which were decently choreographed and Charles Dance (as one of the vampire council members) earning every penny of whatever they paid him for pretending not to know the script was utter dreck. The main minus points were the stereotyped Big Bad (woman is sexually dominant and possibly bi, so is, of course, a deranged power-seeker - yawn) and the thing where the script-writers dealt with the need to cram vast swathes of exposition in between the fight scenes by having characters tell each other things they clearly both knew or things which were only tenuously connected to what had just happened or was being talked about. The most excruciating example was the bit where one character expresses condolences on the sudden, violent death of another's father in the previous scene - and the response is something along the lines of 'I never really knew him. I can't really remember my mother, either...' It wasn't a complete waste of a couple of hours, but I wouldn't be astonished if it turns out to be the weakest film I see all year.
What I didn't do this weekend was go on the Women's March, partly because of the start time and partly because I couldn't face the probable size of the crowds. I was delighted to see how many people were more together than me, both in London and world-wide, and I loved many of the photographed placards which showed up in my Facebook feed. My money is on The Drumpf resigning or being impeached before four years are up, but I rather imagine that there will be plenty more causes for protest before that day comes.