When I was little, I was very lucky that my mum read to me. A lot. We lived abroad and there wasn’t much else entertainment. Also I was a poorly child, my adenoids were incredibly persistent and even grew back after an obviously rather unsuccessful attempt at removal. To save my mum’s voice, I was bought a copy of The Velveteen rabbit<em read by John Le Mesurier. I loved it. So today I found a beautifully illustrated copy of the book and I am so excited about reading it. I can almost anticipate the tears, but in a good way. In fairness I went to buy my goddaughter a present but indulged myself instead. It feels a bit decadent but it’s a present to myself for the new year. Perhaps I should do it more often.
So my new job = longer commute = more time to read books. Bonus (although Victoria line today beyond a flippin’ joke). So I’ve read two fantastic historical romps that have been lingering on my book shelves for a LONG time.
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society and The Tenderness of Wolves (apologies for crap links, phone not great on those). Both good.
I have also been experiencing something of a musical exploration (no links, you’ll have to Google). George Michael Symphonica (fab), BBC Symphony Orchestra Disturbia (in parts great, in parts disturbing, in parts WAY too experimental), The Hurts (brilliant, Kylie appeared, felt about 20 years younger).
In addition saw The Help (good adaptation, slight liberties taken), Paranormal Activity 3 (much better than 2, saw it at the O2 with a largely young audience, they’re commentary was, at first, annoying but ultimately v amusing), and We Need To Talk About Kevin (gripping, entire cinema audience left very quickly and in silence, I needed a drink afterwards).
So altogether a bit multi media. And, on the whole, v enjoyable.
Now must get better at blogging as it happens!
As I may have mentioned, I am not committed to the body beautiful, in fact I HATE gyms with a passion (the sweaty people, the stinky trainer smell and the rather over-enthusiastic sales people). However, having some spare time on my hands (someone please give me a job soon) and given that the last time I was out of work I put on about a stone and a half which I then couldn’t shift, I thought I really ought to do something. So I started with some Wii which is absolutely brilliant as you don’t have to get dressed (not that I do it naked, but often don’t get more elaborate than my PJs), in fact it’s just putting a couple of batteries in and off you go. And I have been doing it …every day…and nothing’s happened. Admittedly nothing happening does encompass not putting any weight on which is something of a result but it’s a bit dispiriting when you’ve been sweating away for at least half an hour a day and not lost a milligram.
So I admit it, I made a mistake. I moaned about this situation to the Beloved who is a committed gym bunny (five days a week plus swimming) who, of course, offered practical (ie irritating) advice. So today I found myself at.a.gym. I know you could have knocked me down with a feather as well. Now I have to say, so far so good. It was fairly quiet so no one sweated over me, it didn’t smell at all bad and the ladies’ changing room has a steam room and a sauna so that’s a bit of a perk. And no one has tried a hard sell yet. In fact they have given me a free pass for a month instead of the five days I originally signed up for (I suspect gym bunny boy slipped them a fiver to keep me off the streets!). I’m even thinking about going to some classes. Goodness gracious what has come over me?!
I quite like cats (although long term exposure = hives) but I DO NOT LIKE their poo. This summer the local cats seem to have mistaken my garden as a toilet. Cue me with plastic bags, scooping and then walking all the way to the park to deposit in an appropriate bin (if they go in my bin we get infested with flies). And of course being London cats they’re all attitude and virtually nothing scares them off. Grrrr
Although 25% of the audience at the lovely Clapham Picture House were male, there was definitely a high oestrogen count in the showing of One Day last night. I admit, I was nervous as I LOVED the book. But actually the film was jolly good. Yes okay you have to ignore Anne Hathaway‘s slightly wandering accent but Jim Sturgess and Rafe Spall were really quite perfect. I think I would have put more music “from the day” in it (but that’s possibly a self-indulgent wanting a sound track to my life type of thing). And of course I cried but in a good “release of pent up and sad emotions” way (I am currently HATING being out of work and teetering on the edge of some rubbish depression mode which I’m trying to fight by excessive amounts of Wii Fit).
All in all a jolly nice way to spend an evening.
I took my mum to see South Pacific at The Barbican last night and I have to say it was really rather fabulous. Sam Womack was surprisingly good (you always worry about a soap star on the stage which is probably a bit unfair), frankly anyone over 30 who appears on stage in a swimming costume surrounded by a largely 20-something cast gets a thumb up from me.
I’d forgotten that I did actually know most of the songs (my Grandma was something of a show tunes fanatic so I think they just went in by osmosis before I started school) as did most of the audience (although luckily no one was actually singing along, more like hum hum bounce bounce of the head). And the racism message was a complete surprise (for 1940s American piece of popular culture, it was quite brave, can’t imagine it was a big hit in the southern States when it was released).
All in all very enjoyable and I LOVE that I can get from Barbican to my house in less than half an hour.