Oh well, that was Christmas. I sent Offsprog One off to Dick Whittington at Wilton's Music Hall with a friend, because I was too poorly to go. Dammit, panto only happens at Christmas and I missed it!
It's been a holed-up-with-films and Lemsip time. Lots of James Stewart (including a birthday trip to the BFI which was sweet and survivable to see The Shop On The Corner. Kaurismaki's Leningrad Cowboys and more, so that I dreamt a delirious dream that I was in one of his films.
The documentary on penguins with the little runt baby penguin hiding behind it's Dadda when the guillemot came to gobble it up, metamorphosed into a computer game in my mind; penguins heads, penguins heads, all lined up and ready to... well, whatever happens in computer games, I don't know.
I have a copy of 8 Women to watch, having missed the showing at Viktor Wynd, and also a copy of Les Demoiselles de Rochefort; tomorrow may be French films and paracetamol, to ring the changes.
Instead of watching Vertigo on TV, I'm writing this. Poor attention span.
I'll go back to reading Sunday's newspaper.
"those drugs one can't abuse" although that lemsip seems to do something odd
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