The Circle of Life of it All...

Congrats Ukraine! You
threw everything at it.

As we take down the bunting and file away the score cards, all that's left to say is CONGRATULATIONS, UKRAINE. You thoroughly deserved a decent placing regardless of anything else, so I'm delighted the global stage had the chance to show solidarity and appreciation to the Kalush Orchestra. 

National treasure
status achieved.

But what about our boy, Sam? Wasn't he a stone cold legend on Saturday night?! If you're not singing 'I'm up in space, maaaaaaaan,' at the top of your lungs, several times an hour, there's something wrong with you. I'm still surfing the high of the whole shebang, but the crash is coming. It always does. Don't worry, it's a cyclical process every year. I've got this.

 

The beer garden where
the writing group
magic takes place.

Writing News

Leeza Book 2 is back on track. Wahey! I did a few big writing seshes throughout the week, as well as the scary thing I hate - sharing it with my writing group. I only printed out the first couple of pages - baby steps, people - but before I read it, I heavily caveatted it with, 'This is the first draft, it's not been edited yet, it mightn't make the cut, it's probably not interesting enough to grab new readers, blah, blah blah'. Yeah, you get the gist, right? Anyway, I cracked on, regardless. And in a very lovely turn of events, it got some laughs! It also sounded better when I said it out loud rather than mentally skimming it on the screen. So, yeah, that particular bridge has been crossed, and it felt good. Another cyclical process I've come to know well.

Heartstopper has my heart. End of.

Culture

FFS, isn't Eurovision enough? OK, I'll give you some more. The Staircase on Sky is the reenactment of the Netflix documentary of the same name from a few years ago, and it's as equally disturbing and gripping as that was. I'm still not over Heartstopper, even though I watched it two weeks ago. A second binge of that is in my near future. I've started reading Chris Brookmyre's, Places in the Darkness, which is reminding me of the Red Dwarf books of my teen years, (witty characters in space - no great leap) and after listening to the Comfort Blanket episode on Dawson's Creek, I'm trying to work out when I'll have time to start a rewatch of that. I LOVE a coming of age, high school, teen drama, so for now, I'm rewatching Sex Education, whilst being thrilled to bits with Ncuti Gatwa's new role. 

Eurovision salmon!

Food and Drink

Eurovision week means picky teas. Anything that can be eaten with one hand whilst the other is scoring, tweeting, or scrolling. The two semis were more low key, but for Saturday night, chilli, ginger, and garlic encrusted salmon was flaked over some blinis and served with natural yoghurt on a sharing platter. Later, when the scoring began and blood sugars were in danger of dropping, the cheese board was brought out. I don't know much, but I know how to Eurovision feed.

The Tom Wambsgans and
Mark Darcy mashup
we've been waiting for.

Out and About

Apart from the writing group, it was a stay-at-home week. Two semis and a final will do that to a woman. I did sneak in a cinema visit on Friday to watch Operation Mincemeat, but other than that, not so much.

These nails sparked a right 
interesting convo with
the postman.

I realise some people might still be flummoxed about why I love the ESC so much. That's OK. Liverpool Men's footy team played in a big match on Saturday that I'd heard some people talk about in the build up. Fair play to them, but if no one else had raised the issue, it'd have passed me by. As I'm typing this, the postman's just knocked with my latest eBay purchase and complimented my nails. I told him they were for Eurovision and he looked baffled. As I said to him just moments ago, 'You've got your planes and I've got Eurovision.' (It helps if you know he really likes planes.) And he accepted it, and then asked me loads of questions about Saturday. We all have a thing that brings us joy - sport, planes, international singing competitions... and in about eight months, the selection process for my thing will start all over again. Another cyclical process! It really is the circle of life. Congratulations once again to the winning Kalush Orchestra, and to Sam Ryder for his long-awaited second place. Bring on 2023!

Have a lovely week, folks.

Bring on the Eurovision!!!!

I'm still not used to the new bloke
so I'm letting Jon Ola keep his
eye on things for now.

Oh wow! Oh boy! It's arrived! The week that makes the other fifty-one worth enduring has finally started! From the first selections at the end of last year, through the January bleakness as countries got organised, to the promise of green shoots and bright weather as all eyes turn to Turin, we've made it; to this glorious day. For today is the dawn of our dreams. Today marks the start of - yes you've guessed it - EUROVISION WEEK!!!!!!!!!!

Me, casually referencing
 YouTube and TikTok like
it's nothing.

I won't lie, this feels amazing. All the excitement is still to come yet there's so much out there to whet our appetites. YouTube and TikTok have been all over it, but for anyone not up to speed, (and if you missed my interview on Riverside Radio on Saturday) here are the most basic of basics...

• Ukraine will do exceptionally well and perhaps even win. Everyone will be happy for them and it will be a moving and emotional global gesture of solidarity. Their song is pretty good, regardless.
• The UK probably won't live up to the huge (and very enjoyable) hype that they've created for the first time in years, but should do much better than usual. If the aim is to improve on last year's nul points result, then the only way is up. We've been drawn in the second half which is already a result and the rehearsals have gone really well. If, as I'm secretly hoping, we make it to the top ten, that'll be epic. I now think that's possible whereas as a couple of weeks ago I just wanted a point. Believe!
• My only other contender in terms of song is Sweden. If I were cheering on someone for purely musical purposes, it'd be them. Classic, does-what-it-says-on-the-tin, Eurovision banger. It could also win.

Good luck, Sam Ryder.
I'm enjoying the bookies
optimism but I'll be happy
with any points. And if we
make it to the left hand
side of the board?
Amazing!

Either way, it's all still to come. The semi finals are on Tuesday and Thursday, I'll be getting my nails done in a European flag homage in the week, and then Saturday's the big one. The champagne will be flowing and the prawn and salmon blinis platter will be picked at. Buckle up folks and enjoy the ride of your lives, it's going to be GLORIOUS.

 
Writing News

Lolz. No seriously. Lolz. A change in life circumstances (how dramatic! No actual drama, but the work hours of the person I live with have changed) has meant things are currently being recalibrated. I've written this blog, last week's blog, a shopping list, and an online feedback form. Monday morning, when everything returns to normal, will be very welcome. (Except I'll be battling Post Eurovision Depression. Booo.)

Damiano David, lead singer of
last year's winners, Måneskin.
I look forward to reuniting
with my future next husband
on Saturday.

Culture

What? You want more than a globally broadcast song contest involving forty countries and watched by over 180 million people? Get you. Oh all right then. If you must press me, I suppose I'd recommend The Split on BBCiPlayer - a family drama set around a law firm, like a more middle-class and monied This Life. And if you want to be hit over the head with high school nostalgia whilst being punched in the gut with all the feels, I am compelled to point you towards Netflix's Heartstopper. It's the sweetest, boy meets boy story, that provides the good messaging about growing up, whilst beautifully depicting young love and the angst of trying to work yourself out. Every single one of my boxes were ticked, and ticked hard.

Food and Drink

For reasons explained below, there've been a lot of chips in my recent eating past. And after that, there were a lot of vegetables to try and redress the balance. I made my own hummus so I could eat carrot batons and cucumber sticks without feeling too rabbity, and tried to avoid all forms of fried potato once the caravan holiday was over. (Spoiler: There was a caravan holiday.)

There's a lot of this
sort of thing in Wales.
Photo credit: Dom Bond.

Out and About

The Bank Holiday weekend saw a Bond family mini break (that makes it sound well classier) to a duo of caravans on the Cambrian Coast. Yes, I was back in Aberystwyth. The scene of many scenes from Assembling the Wingpeople. At one point, I drove my brothers and sister-in-law back from their cliff top walk whilst pointing out key locations from the novel. The chippy, the restaurant, the bar where the reunion takes place, and the bandstand on the beach where one of the characters has an 'incident'. They very kindly indulged me. Mainly because I was giving them a lift, I suppose. Beyond that, we got through the weekend and managed to avoid COVID, bad weather, and lost tempers physical fights. Well done, Us!

My insides, right this second.

But let's get back to business. Are we here? Are we braced? Are we ready for the wonder of it all? GOOD. Today, when I consider the mood icons in my peri-menopausal tracking app, I'll wholeheartedly select 'happy' and mean it - with gusto! Good luck Sam Ryder, good luck everybody. See you on the other side.  

Have a lovely week, folks.

The Comfort of a Faked Seminar

There's a new podcast that I'm obsessed with but its also reminded me how disappointing post-university life can be. 

Ah, the happy memories of blagging.

I have a love/hate relationship with my English degree. (Bear with me. It'll make sense soon enough.) It opened me up to a world of literature and gave me a decent overview of some of the classics - good for pub quizzes and crosswords if nothing else. The down side - because of course there's one - is that my overriding memory of uni is trying to speed-read a weighty tome every two weeks, but giving up half way through, and hoping the following day's seminar didn't focus too much on the end of the book. Three years later, I remember relishing with some relief that I never had to read again. Well done University!

 
Of course that lasted all of five minutes. After all my housemates departed for real life, I was alone in my student digs for a final weekend. In a moment of pity, a friend lent me a book to help ease my boredom. It was Jemima J by Jane Green. I gave it a brief look and next thing I knew, hours had passed and I'd finished it. Reading? I was back! It turns out I didn't want to quit books, just quit boring ones.

My post-college book list wasn't all contemporary beach reads, though. I spent the initial months working my way through EM Forster's novels. They were great. Howards End, A Room With a View, Maurice... Sure, they were also Merchant Ivory films so that helped bring them alive, but I still loved disappearing into the pages. But there was one thing missing. As I sat on the bus travelling to my first job, reading about Eleanor Lavish or Margaret Schlegel, there were no seminars the next day in which to discuss. No one wanted to know what I thought. I couldn't hear cleverer people than me's opinion about Forster's use of whatever. And that felt pretty flat. What's the point of reading if no one aids your understanding with their own takes? 

Me, whenever I finish a book.

Over the years, I've got over it. It's fine, no really. And as much as I urge people in my life to read books I've loved, they rarely do. I'm used to keeping my feelings to myself on the subject. But I've realised it explains something about me. 

There's nothing I love more than a good podcast. But more than that, I love the type of podcast that takes a cultural item - a TV episode, a film, a book - and dissects and debates it, pulling it apart and sharing the inner workings with clever people that respect it. And there are so many! 

Right now, I can't watch the new series of Taskmaster without following each episode with the companion podcast. It drops the second the show has finished. Then there's Firecrotch and Normcore. They recorded two episodes a week during the last series of Succession. Listening to their mad plot theories added an extra dollop of pleasure on top of the actual show. There's loads more I subscribe to. Shrine of Duty about Line of Duty, Always There about Howards' Way, Still Any Good? about old films, and The Columbo Podcast about, yes you've guessed it, Columbo. 

Last month, a new podcast started. Comfort Blanket. Its premise is simple - someone with thoughts to share, is invited to discuss a cultural item they consider comforting. Joel Morris, with 'older brother introducing you to cool new stuff' vibes, presides and is brilliant. Week one saw Rufus Jones giggling away with Joel as he talked about his love of Raiders of the Lost Ark. It's a film that was made slap bang in my formative years but I'd never seen it. I know. Weird huh? So after listening to their chat, I did just that. And then I re-listened to the episode now I knew what they were on about. The following week, Jude Rogers talked about the song, Freedom, by Wham. Now that was something I knew inside out, and had loved since I was six. Even so, the conversation was illuminating. An hour long chat about a specific song from thirty-eight years ago? It was fantastic and taught me so much. Cool, clever people talking about things I either love, or love to learn about. What a thrill! 

Everyone needs a
comfort blanket.

There have been two more episodes since then, about TV shows I've never seen. And that doesn't matter. The gently teased out social commentary that underpins the guests' choices, is enough to keep me listening. That, and their enthusiasm. It's been my regular Thursday treat for the past month regardless of the subject.

I know I said I was obsessed but don't worry - my podcast habit is under control. It just provides the backdrop for my car journeys and train rides really. But when you think about it, it's exactly what I was missing all those years ago. Joel Morris and the Comfort Blanket guests are the clever people in the seminar whose views I want to hear. The analysis of culture is detailed enough to satisfy my inner-nerd and celebratory enough to feed my soul with joy. And the upside of doing it this way? I don't have to blag that I've actually finished the novel. Win. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

A Squatting Art Garfunkel, Technical Deets, and Double Dominos FTW...

Enough with your
shopping list, Art. I
need to get on.

🎶Hello, Hayfever, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again...🎶 Stop it, Art Garfunkel, I'm sick of telling you to get out of my head and find somewhere else to live. All I want is... the sound of silence. 🎶 Why you little...!  Right then, enough about him, back to me. And there's an autobiography title if ever there was one. Not sure who the him is that I've had enough of, as I centre myself in my own life as much as possible. Still. We live in a patriarchy so perhaps the 'him' is generic. I'm sure I'll iron out all those thoughts and more, before I write it. Meanwhile, hello fellow hay feverians. Hay feverists? Hay feveritans. Please know I feel your pain and from hereon in, will be counting down the days to September.

They really do, Reacher.

Writing News

Sometimes the creative process gets bogged down with technical details. I'm writing the diary of Leeza McAuliffe. That's twelve months of story. I know that the more pages it takes, the higher the cost to print and then buy. That means I need to keep an eye on the word count. I'm aiming for 5000 words a month/chapter. So far I'm well over, but it's the first draft so anything goes. The other non-creative detail I'm tracking is where I'm up to in the year. I finished planning the book in January 2022. I started writing it in February which meant Chapter one was January. I caught up with myself by March and before April 2022 had even started, I was beginning the April chapter. Then I got sidetracked with life for a few weeks, and the writing got behind the real life date again. It means nothing to anyone else, but on 19th April I wrote fourteen days worth of novel which caught me up to April 19th in the story. That felt pure and satisfying. Pleasure comes in all shapes and sizes, doesn't it?

Culture

The Lost City is the silliest nonsense I ever saw at the cinema and I loved it. And the blink-and-you'll-miss-it inclusion of a Mr. Brad Pitt sent this peri-menopausal woman's insides a-whirring. A-whirring, I tell you!

Food and Drink

I can't lie. There've been two Dominos meals in the last week. It's been a bit too busy to cook round here, and as Dominos is the only takeaway provider that can successfully find my address without multiple calls from a lost driver, its the safest bet. My current order of choice includes the vegan dipper nugget things and the cheesy bread roll doodahs. I believe the actual names of these items can be found on the menu. I'm also a grown up now and have stopped ordering enough pizza to feed fifteen people. It's a recent development but a significant one.

I will spend the rest 
of the day convincing myself
that when I eat pizza,
I looked better than this.

Out and About

Good news. My walking mojo has returned! What was once a daily occurrence back in the dark and distance early lockdown days, deserted me once life kicked in. It was the new series of Adam Buxton's podcast that dragged me off the sofa. An hour of chat between him and Marian Keyes was exactly what I needed to accompany me around the perimeter of Sefton Park.

So whether you're sniffling with allergies, fighting the ever-present COVID, or full of the joys of health and contentment...

Have a lovely week, folks.

Over-indulgence, the Bestest TV, and a Gravy Boat of Dreams...

Live scenes from my house

Are we having fun? Is the Bank Holiday weekend all you dreamed of and more? Are you craving the absence of hourly chocolate from your life? Worry not, we're nearly there! As you scoff 'just one more' cream egg, let's turn our minds to non-chocolate issues for a moment. 

My lovely covers!

Writing News

The writing hiatus ends soon. Tomorrow, actually. I'll be back on track with the first draft of Leeza McAuliffe, Book 2 before you know it. I do know what the title's going to be, but it's way too soon to start bandying it around. However, knowing it at this early stage feels incredibly freeing. Usually, it's hanging over me. I'll be knee deep in edits and the end's in sight but I've still to come up with the name. Until I have a title, I can't commission a front cover and I can't crack on with a load of other jobs to do with the marketing and promotion of the thing. Maybe with a title early doors, it'll be a million times easier this go. Lolz. Who am I kidding? Still, it's a nice position to be in and I'm relishing it.

Julia Child

Culture

A long weekend means only one thing - great TV. Sky has given us Julia - an eight part series about the life of Julia Child. Sarah Lancashire is leading the cast and it's so much fun. Then there's The Thief, His Wife, and the Canoe on ITV. Part One was last night, and there are two more to go. That incredulous story from 2007, about the guy who faked his own death, has been reenacted again. It's as strange as its true and the first ep was a decent watch. What else? If you've the stomach, the House of Maxwell (BBC iPlayer) gave a forensic insight into the life of Robert Maxwell and his daughter Ghislaine. It was fascinating, compelling, and pretty grim in its detail. I've still to watch the Jimmy Savile doc on Netflix, despite everyone saying I should, mainly because I need to spread the bleak sex-offender docs between lighter fare. In related, but completely different vibe news, I listened to Jen Kirkman's stand up album, OK, Gen-X, on a long drive last week. Her take down of Louis CK and her riffs on women having to navigate the pervs in the world, was very funny, and supremely satisfying. I laughed a lot, driving over the Pennines, at midnight, as the sky outside tried to snow. Now that was bleak in a whole other way.

The funniest gravy boat
in all the land, you say? 
Why, this one, of course.

Food and Drink

Last week I went for a Sunday roast at my local pub. The veggie option was a non-specific 'vegan wellington' but I was mainly there for the roasties so I ordered it with the lowest of expectations. Reader, it was amazing. An individual pastry dome encasing a mushy mash of nuts, onions, carrots, sage, and stuffing-type stuff. I fear my description has not done it justice - I can see why the menu kept it vague - but it was glorious. Smothered with gravy and served with the aforementioned roasties, parnisps and veg, I was a fan. I've yet to recreate it at home, but I reckon if I whack a pastry top over a box of Paxo, some extra onions and grated carrot, I won't be far off. 

Out and About

I've gone nowhere! Although, randomly, with the slight lift in temperatures yesterday, I reverted to the lockdown weekend nights of the recent past. The fire pit, a picky bits tea, and the outdoor blankets and cushions to comfy up the garden chairs. For a change, it was nice. How soon I've forgotten, that's all there was for a couple of years.

Here's hoping all our jeans still fasten and we can successfully wean ourselves off absentmindedly pushing chocolate into our mouths at every opportunity. It's an aim of sorts.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Busy Business, Fancy Food, and Panicked Post...

She's just seen a kid
with a Lindt bunny.

Morning, and I hope you're enjoying the run up to Easter/the long weekend/the coldest of all the bank holidays - insert your own description of choice. As I get older, I try to rein in any instinctive urges I have to judge others. If no one's getting hurt, it's my job to curtail my mental commentary on the supposed rights and wrongs of other people's decisions. I realise, however, I'm in full judgy cow mode when I see kids eating Easter eggs before Easter. What happened to delayed gratification? Surely they need to be taught some things are worth the wait? If you eat Easter eggs before Easter, they're just sickly chocolate orbs - make it make sense! That being said, I found myself hoovering up a bag of dark chocolate Dime eggs in the week, and they were exquisite. 

Writing News

It's a funny old week, writing wise. I've done frig all. This tends to be the problem when real life gets in the way. It was same during the first lockdown. My head was so filled with the uncertainty of the world, I found it hard to sink into my imagination and make up stuff that other people were doing. It's not lockdown this time, but the business I'm involved with. It's all systems go with solicitors and paperwork and deadlines that keep moving. With that going on in the background, Leeza McAuliffe and her latest family shenanigans have been pushed out of the picture. Not for long, though. It should be sorted soon and my writing head will come back with a vengeance. 

Culture

I got a cracking book for my birthday. Agatha Christie's Poirot: The Greatest Detective in the World by Mark Aldridge. If you're even a slight fan of the detective, this book's a fab read. I'm doing it cover to cover but it's a handy dip-in-able reference guide to all the stories he appears in. Basically, well good. Then, in extremely last minute plans, I saw Hedwig and the Angry Inch in Leeds on Friday night. It was glorious and I'm still thinking about it every single minute. It comes to Manchester in a couple of weeks and I imagine I'll be booking again.

Food and Drink

Let me rave about a new cook book I've got - Sabrina Ghayour's Bazaar. It's fabulous. When I first flicked through, I realised I'd be happy to eat almost every single recipe. (Not the sweetcorn one and not the one that was predominantly peas. But everything else looked delish.) I made a start last weekend with my halloumi and carrot balls, and pistachio and pomegranate studded goats cheese. Look at me being fancy! Then later in the week I had my first McPlant. Also fit. 

My halloumi balls!

Out and About

What with the busyness of the business, I keep having to drop things off at post offices and post boxes before last pick up. That feels like my overriding memory of the week. In other admin-related trips, I've done a couple of airport runs to Manchester - one at 3.15am! - for my brother's work jolly. From what he says, it was definitely better dropping off than having to queue for hours, so that's a win. Sort of. (It would have been more of a win if he'd got a taxi). And then I went to Aintree Costa in the week, completely forgetting it was the races, and people-watched the chauffeurs, police, and security guards getting their coffees. Fun times.

Let's hope the weather is exactly how you want it to be - I'm all for a stiff breeze and a bright sky in lieu of my much loved but errant snow - and your days are filled with whatever you'd like. Fun? Friends? Family rows because everyone's at home and sick of each other? Once again, insert your own description of choice.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Oscar Moments You May Have Missed...

I watched the Oscars live. Ish. I was on an hour's delay, which meant avoiding social media spoilers. When the incident happened, I relied on the feelings from my gut, rather than other people's thoughts on Twitter. 

First I assumed it was a joke. Then I felt a brief panic when it was clear it wasn't. And then, once the guest host finished his patter (albeit, shook) I watched Best Documentary be won by Summer of Soul and I forgot about it. 

Yeah, I really did. The incident that everyone banged on about when they woke hours later? It left my head. And for the record, no, I don't condone violence and I think you can joke about anything as long as it's funny (the second part of that sentence being important). But after the initial unpleasantness, I just wanted to see the rest of the awards. 

Predictably, there were A LOT OF OPINIONS when I woke at 11am. I accepted them from those who'd watched it live like me. But I held no truck for anyone waking after a good night's sleep and sharing their outrage before they'd had breakfast. Because they missed so much good stuff. There were many lovely moments that didn't get their deserved coverage in the immediate aftermath of the 94th Academy Awards. So let's do something about that, shall we.

Kenneth Branagh Won An Oscar

I'll be clear from the start. I've loved this man since I was a teen. He made Shakespeare accessible and signposted me towards my ideal lover - someone who can chat Hamlet over wine. That'll form the basis of my Tinder profile should I ever feel the need. After being nominated in all sorts of categories for all sorts of films, he finally won for Best Original Screenplay and I whooped from my bed. Supremely satisfying and long overdue.

 

Sweet Gesture at the Handover

Last year's best supporting actress, Youn Yuh-jung was there to present Best Supporting Actor, as is standard. She commented that she hoped she'd pronounce the names of the nominees correctly, before opening the card. Then, when it came to the winner, she only went and signed his name! This, for those unclear, was useful as Troy Kotsur is deaf, and only the second deaf actor to win an Academy Award. Look, it's not really good enough until the whole thing is signed throughout, obvs. But as a sweet gesture from one actor to another, it was pretty cool. 

Politics Are Never Far Away

The big question beforehand was whether Ukraine would be mentioned during the show. There was even a discussion on Sky News about the likelihood of Zelenskyy being included in the ceremony. In the end, it was down to a few individual references from award winners, as well as a minute's silence as we were encouraged to reflect. But that wasn't where politics ended. The hosts Wanda Sykes, Regina Hall, and Amy Schumer enthusiastically told us it was going to be a gay night (just as Florida has passed the Don't Say Gay legislation) and Jessica Chastain made an impassioned plea for love and acceptance for the LGBT community. I like it when people are given a platform and they use it positively. 

Queen Bey's Oscars

Venus Williams and Serena Williams opened the show, to introduce Beyoncé, who then extra-opened the show with a performance of Be Alive from King Richard. With a court full of backing singers and dancers dressed as tennis balls, this was the most magnificent thing I had ever watched in bed at 2am on a school night. It didn't win Best Song but that didn't matter because it won the Internet.  (Until nonsense took over. Watch this instead of that.)

There's a Place For Us

It's fab when allies like Jessica Chastain use their platform for good. But it's even better when LGBTQIA+ people get the platform themselves. Ariana DeBose won Best Supporting Actor for her role as Anita in West Side Story, and throughly deserved it. With the original Anita, Rita Moreno, watching from the audience, she talked about being an openly queer woman of colour and finding her strength in life through art. It was a lovely moment.

A Decidedly Perky In Memoriam

Sky were having technical difficulties so the In Memoriam feature burst onto my screen mid-flow after a brief moment's outage. And burst it did. Forget your solemn notes and your sepia tones. This was upbeat! As the pictures of the recently dead scrolled across the screen, a gospel choir gave it large out front. Every so often the music would quiet and someone would speak about a name on the screen. Bill Murray was talking about Ivan Reitman when Sky rejoined the programme. A moment later, the magnificent Jamie Lee Curtis eulogised the equally magnificent Betty White whilst holding a puppy. It was batshit and glorious. Later, on Twitter, it seemed the change in tone had split opinion. For me, when I die, I'd be well happy with that level of demented joy. 

2 Out of 94  Ain't Bad  Is Piss Poor

I'd been a bit cold towards Jane Campion because of some silly things she's said recently. But blimey, it's still such a crazily rare achievement that women are nominated, let alone win Best Director Oscars, that it still filled me with pride that she did. She's now the second woman in ninety-four years to win, which is ridiculous. Especially as everyone knows the real best director working today is Greta Gerwig. Isn't the world a mess of systemic barriers and injustice? We should probably do something about that at some point.

Best Picture is CODA!

I'm still to see CODA but it won't be long before I do. What I did take from this win, however, is that signing should happen for every major broadcast of anything. It's more of that systemic inequality, innit. If the Oscars don't make this as standard after this year, they're proper silly billies. Genuinely, it's the most basic of lessons they can take forward. (Along with ditching the easy-access cabaret tables, and seating everyone in the safety of theatre rows once more.) It's always a thrill to see a version of yourself being brilliant and lauded. CODA looks fab and I'm happy it won. But I'm also happy that for deaf kids, there's a bit more mainstream representation. 

Haven't I banged on for ages? This is what happens when people ignore the cool stuff and focus on a moment of madness. I'm going to wrap it up now. But it's a shame I've not had a chance to mention Lady Gaga and Liza Minelli being the best onstage duo ever. Or Wanda Sykes and Regina Hall passing on Kim Kardashian's advice to Judi Dench after she didn't win Best Supporting Actress. Work harder. Or how fab it was to see Elliot Page talk about his pre-transition film, Juno. Or seeing classic film cast reunions. Or James Acaster being front and centre of the ten second clip they showed of Cinderella. Or Amy Schumer's joke when she came back after 'the incident' and asked if she's missed something. It was a great night. Possibly not for approximately three people in the building, but for everyone else there was so much to enjoy. Let's remember the enjoyable stuff too.

Have a lovely week, folks.