Flaming Zinc

… so I have nothing more to add tonight. Except that summer is official over as the Pumpkin Spice Latte is available at Starbucks. (It’s the slippery slope to gingerbread or egg nog frappaccinos).

It was the winter of 1976 (or perhaps the spring of ‘77) when my mum invited the fairy godmothers and fathers over to dispel their gifts on little old moi. As I grew, and my personality was established it would appear that one or two fairies were absent.

Diligence and Prudence were early, and helped with put the sparkly coats and cloaks in the spare room. The usual suspects transcended for the cake and sherry; Happiness, Intelligence, Sarcasm (with his twin Cynicism) and Curiosity. Tenacity was forced to send his benediction by a fog of glittery dust, as he was stuck in his flat in an OCD trance over the stove and light switch. Diffidence was late, but unapologetic. Whist Stubbornness lurked outside, refusing to come in and it was left to Generosity to pass food parcels through the window. There was a fight between Optimism and Pessimism over the last sausage roll, and ironically Patience failed to show.

And this is my long winded way of saying that I am desperate to bother the good people of UoL for the hundredth time. But I wont, I’ll harness that determination of mine and give it till the end of the week for my parcel of education goodies to arrive. I think I have already become their most anxious student. There was a form they forgot to include in the registration pack. So utilised every medium at my disposal and scanned, faxed and mailed it back to them. Yeah, I need to get a life or something.

… there was a director who made very strange, and by their nature, non-mainstream films set in Brazil that involved Fisher Kings and Twelve Monkeys. Then he embarked on a search for The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, but returned with The Brothers Grimm. It is probably not too surprising that I loved this film, and my knitting remained untouched in my bag for the whole run time. It’s slightly scary, amusing and gorgeously stunning. I must underline that this is not a spoof Van Helsing adventure, though there is a fair amount of spitting and crusty old hags.

Set in French occupied Europe in the early 19th century the Brothers Grimm, along with their motley crew, go from village to hamlet exorcising witches, ogres and demons for a small fee. Of course they are charlatans, as fairy tales are just to entertain children and swindle the gullible. Or that’s what they think until they come across to a village were young girls are being abducted (each in the manner of a different fairy tale), you can’t trust the trees in the enchanted forest and there’s an ominous tower surrounded by twelve crypt-like stone coffins. The brothers have to harness their inner courage, start to believe in each other and kiss a frog or two. There is also a very cool Alice through the looking glass situation and fun can be had spying all the fairy tale references.

Wes Craven’s Red Eye could have been an engaging thriller if they had kept it simple. A pretty hotel manager (Rachel McAdams) is taken hostage, by the enigmatic Cillian Murphy, on the late night flight to Miami. Her “capture” is nicely contrived, and given the confined environment the villain is called upon to be slightly more imaginative. She is told that her father will die if she doesn’t call her fancy hotel and change the room that the important politician will be staying in. She can stall, but eventually she has to make the call and trade one life for another. There is nice chemistry between captor and captive, particularly involving him “guessing” her favourite drink (not so hard when you have been tailing her for a few weeks) only to have her lie. The best parts of this so-so movie were on the plane and the subsequent chase thru the airport. If they had continued to build the tension, and kept the action confided to one locale this could have been more satisfying. Blowing up the hotel and the final confrontation at her father’s house was all rather predictable. There was, however, a lovely cameo by Brian Cox playing the father, getting to be a goody rather than the villain for once (he also appears to have shed a few pounds since his turn as Agamemnon in Troy).

I don’t know who or what Crazy Frog is (and I don’t care). I thought Franz Ferdinand was a footballer. I got very confused, and slightly concerned, when I found out that Fergie was a member of the Black Eyed Peas.

What I do know is it that technically Oedipus didn’t have an Oedipus complex. Ancient Greek sculptors and vase painters roll off my tongue as if they were members of a boy band, and I dream that one day I’ll read Homer the original Klingon.

Last weekend I saw my third (or possibly fourth) production of Twelfth Night and it was the bee’s knees. I first saw this play in tent on Blackheath (as part of the touring London Bubble theatre touring rep) fifteen or so years ago, then a very dry outdoor production in Oxford with my grandparents in 1993, possibly again in Hyde Park in 1996 (but I slept thru it so it could have been any of the comedies done badly), and finally off-Broadway 2005.

It was a NYLON production from the Aquila theatre company. The Yanks were the hunks and beauties (Orsino, Viola, Maria, Antonio), and the Brits were the uptight and the comic (Sir Toby Belch, Malvolio, Andrew Aguecheek). But, these stereotypes worked beautifully. A lean production. Superfluous characters chopped, a simple set and few props. The fool, Feste (played by Louis Butelli), is the pivotal character. He infused the role with a careful balance of pathos and humour (with a slight homage to Groucho Marx’s). Drum and base techno music broke up the scenes, you’d think this wouldn’t work but it does perfectly! This is one of the best Shakespearian productions I have scene, the only thing that niggled me was the Sebastian/Antonio thread. As they truncated their scenes, you didn’t get a chance to explore their dynamic.

The care parcel from my mum arrived yesterday (yeah!). Packed full of plain bars of chocolate, liquorice allsorts, fruit allsorts, liquorice twists and the latest Doctor Who DVD. So, this weekend I will be transcending into Nirvana via a sugar fueled sci-fi fest!

Until further notice store bought lunches and manicures/pedicures are out. Restricted Starbucks access has been established, and temporary there are to be no more trips to bookshops or Amazon. Unless they are for school/reading group or an emergency mystery (Donna Leon or Alexander McCall Smith), the under the bed collection is to be polished off. Got spending money for the San Fran trip to be saved, plane tickets for a wedding at the end of September to be bought, Christmas to start thinking about, next years school fees and my pillaged savings to be rebuilt. We’ll see how long this lasts, it must be said that I am not overly optimistic!

What can I say, I’ve been busy. I became wholly consumed by filing project, I’ve been at it for days. I have boxes of papers, piles of papers, in short a paper mountain range that needed to be scaled. In an attempt to get organised before school starting, I have spent a small fortune on coloured files and boxes. My secret piles of paper have been sorted and dispatched and it feels good. Now I just have to try and keep this up and not slide back to my old habit.

I lifted nothing heavier than a paperback or a latte all weekend. It was a very restful, Austen-esque, few days and as a bonus, an obscure cable channel had a Brideshead Revisited marathon that I duly recorded. Alex watched the golf, I read. Alex programmed, I watched Jeremy Irons and Anthony Andrews (and Aloysius) quaff champagne. We indulged in the second Matrix sequel, and copious CSI episodes.

I deceptively thought that all the pain had dissipated away. More fool me. Indeed the sharp shooting pains down my right side have given way to a nagging, hollow, dull pain that stretches from the right to the centre. I was not fully acquainted with the dull throb until I spent the day at work, caged behind a desk. Oh well.