Monday, April 19, 2004

A quick weekend round-up.

On Friday night I dropped Ian off in town at 8.00 to meet the boys for a drink and a gig and inevitably, a curry. After leaving him I swung around to Blockbuster to pick up a movie or two. Now when I first visited my local Blockbuster about two and a half years ago I went up to the counter, arms laden with an assortment of vids only to find that as a first time renter, I was only allowed to take one movie until the next time when I could rent two. Gee, thanks.

It would take me five visits before I could take out 4 movies at the same time and even then it would only be for 2 nights. At that stage they did not even have weekly movies for rent! So imagine my delight when I discovered that you can now rent 3 movies for £5 for a week regardless as to whether it be a DVD or video. I was in movie heaven.

Now, being married to Ian means we don't see many films. Ian, if you don't already know, is not a for-the-sake-of-it movie goer. If we see a film in a cinema the film must be, as Ian's mates say '... in black and white, subtitled, involve 2 people sitting at a table talking in great and poncy detail about the label on the bottle of wine in front of them.' As far fetched as this sounds it is not far from the truth. He is in essence, a film snob. He will debate this bitterly but not too hard. He knows it is the truth. Although I have to say in his defence that he did actually like Love, Actually, actually.

So my evenings alone, when I have the car are blissful. I hire the types of movies Ian wouldn't watch drunk. On Friday night therefore I picked up Dr Zhivago, Roseanna's Grave & Enigma. All good films in their own right but on Saturday morning when Ian asked what I'd rented he muttered something unintelligible not bothering to even feign interest. I, on the other hand, had a movie fest of a weekend! On Friday night I watched Enigma accompanied by a bucket of popcorn that you get at Blockbuster and pop in the microwave at home. I had inhaled the entire contents of said bucket before Kate Winslet appeared on the screen...

On Saturday night I watched two episodes of Kath & Kim, Someone Like You (Hugh Jackman is seriously gorgeous in this!) the last three quarters of Clueless and some very sad wee-hours-of-the-morning cable. Some scary things happen in tellyland after 1.00 am and I hereforthwith renounce my channel hopping ways. I have images burned onto my retinas of lycra clad, abdominally perfect, tanned Americans swiveling around on a contraption called something like The Abductor spouting such inanities as 'Like, I felt it work like after like ten minutes like of using it like.' I knew then it was time for all good children to go to sleep.

Sunday saw me fall in love with Omar Sharif / Uri and vowing to read up about the Russian Revolution. After that epic I baked a cake for a colleague who turned 40 today. It was a flop as I not-so-cleverly spread the batter over the wrong sized tray which made the chocolate layer too thin and chewy and the meringue slimy. I came very close to throwing it all in the bin but decided that the £10 worth of ingredients in it would still tasted OK if I slathered it all in cream and strawberries. It looked a little better. A little.

Enough blathering.

I have just been informed that it is warm outside.

Warm!

C x

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