It's Valentine's day on Friday. Are you feeling the love? I'm lucky to have reached both an age, and a reasonable level of self-esteem, where I don't need to be showered with shiny red tat in order to feel valued. Hurrah for me! Obviously, if Valentine's presents are your thing, crack on! You do you. But it does mean that while the rest of the world is engaging in en masse romantic gestures, I get to scan the horizon and find something marvellous to do for myself.
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| Julie Delpy, playing Celine, representing ME. |
This is a film about THE MEANING OF LIFE. I first watched it when I was nineteen, with the whole of adulthood stretching before me. I identified with everything Celine said. She was me! I was onscreen! I may have been represented as a French blonde woman, but the similarities were UNCANNY. The film is about the ease of connection, that you're particularly susceptible to, when you're young - before cynicism and life experience have bashed out your gut instincts of hope and optimism. It's about seeing your life as something you can control and shape. It's about the urge to make sense of the world in order to learn how to live in it. This movie is not a fluffy romance. But hey, if you want a neat and tidy genre for something that defies such definition, I guess romance is as good as any. Romance, schomance, it's still one of the best films ever.
So lets cut to the chase. Because of the thirtieth anniversary, and because it's Romance's special day this week, some cinemas are showing Before Sunrise on the big screen. It took me approximately three and a half seconds to book my ticket. I don't need to be told twice. I did do a quick check with the person I share a life with, to make sure he was otherwise engaged, and that was it. My Friday night was sorted. Forget your romantic meals, your chocolates, flowers, or underwear. I'll be spending Valentine's night having a solo cinema sesh with one of the great film-loves of my life. Here's hoping you also have the night of your dreams.
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| This is the likely fate of my Mac. |
Like I said last time, the end is nigh. The end of the first draft of my next Leeza McAuliffe book, that is. The next stage will see me editing the shiz out of it. But first! I'm going to have a break. A break from the book, at least. The writer, John Niven, once advised (via Twitter) that after your first draft is done, put it in a drawer and leave it for six months. That's the kind of distance you need in order to edit effectively. I've not got six months, I've got one. In March, I'll be either fixing or upgrading my laptop, and then ironing out some background character issues that have arisen.
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| If you watched Junior Taskmaster you may remember Persia. She's the only person I've ever seen - in real life or the telly - that looks how I imagine Leeza. There are no gifs of her, online, so here's a generic TM one, instead. |
You never forget your first Shakespeare. For me, The Merchant of Venice was my gateway drug. My dealers were Mrs. McCormack and Mr. O'Brien. I inhaled, snorted, and injected that stuff right into my veins. I LOVED it. It was the most interesting text I'd ever studied. There was something intoxicating about cracking the code of the language. I was fascinated to read about human emotions and behaviours that continued to exist centuries later. A few weeks into my GSCE English Lit. course and I was hooked. Shakespeare was my bag.
Over the years I've seen many productions. It's always a play I want to revisit, despite its dark themes, and that's just what I did on Thursday night. The Merchant of Venice 1936 came to Liverpool. This is another reason why I love a Shakespeare. There are seemingly infinite ways to present the same text. This version had its setting in London's East End, just as Mosley and fascism were on the rise. Antonio, Bassanio, and Gratiano were thugs in black shirts. Their racism, thinly veiled at the start, was overt and violent by the end. The play, despite being written centuries ago, felt hugely relevant in the current climate. And having a female Shylock highlighted the other characters' prejudice much more clearly. It was excellent theatre.
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| This tasted FIT. |
Since my lemon curd exploits last week, I've been borderline obsessed with the stuff. I must reiterate how I've never felt the need to buy a jar. But the home made stuff? You can feed it into my veins with my Shakespeare. On Saturday, with an empty day ahead, I found myself Googling recipes that include lemon curd. There are a surprisingly large number of them. Overwhelmed with choice, I did what I should have done at the start. I retreated into the welcoming safety and comfort of Nigella. This is her lemon meringue cake. It wasn't especially quick to make, but it was easy. I spent a happy Saturday whisking my troubles away.
Out and About
Now that the January hibernation period is over, people are ready to come out and play. I had a meal with an old mate last week - thank you Billinge for hosting - and then beers with another mate on Friday. Because of an excessive number of school children getting on my bus, I was late to the station so missed my train into town. The upshot? I stayed on the delayed bus as it was also travelling into Liverpool. The problem? It took the best part of two hours to get there. I KNOW. I could have driven to Carlisle or Warwick in that time! Despite my elongated journey, a happy evening was had by all, me and my mate put the world to rights, and I got over my bus trauma quick enough.
Enjoy your romantic assignations, if that's your thing. Enjoy leaning into the second third of the month, if that's what floats your boat. But most of all, just enjoy whatever the week throws up. Yeah? Can we at least have a go at that? Excellent.
Have a lovely week, folks.
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