It would seem that my will to blog is currently somewhat under the weather. I don’t think that it is a terminal state of affairs, but it has certainly booked an appointment with the GP (that’s the family doctor for the silly American’s out there), just to check things out, maybe get a shot of unnecessary antibiotics, and a sick note so it doesn’t have to play sports. This being the case, I thought I would warn you not to panic if there isn’t a new post for a few days, and I am sure that, should I fall off the edge of the world or something disastrous and messy like that, Moose would say something on her site.

This weekend, all things considered, was not a stunning success. Saturday I waffled around as per usual (I allow myself one day off a week when I can not do work and not feel guilty. This doesn’t stop me not doing work any other day of the week, but I feel guilty then, so it’s all ok). Sunday, now, was meant to be a Good Day. Verging on a Four Penguin ( X 4) day maybe.

Why was I looking forward to it so much? Well, I will tell you. Each week the Times does an offer to see preview showings of films for free. This week was The Jacket, showing at the local independent. I wrote somewhere a rant/comparison about the four cinemas I frequent, but I can’t remember where off the top of my head, so in case you are wondering, the local independent is (1) awkward to get to/get back from, especially late at night, (2) expensive even with student discount/Orange 241, (3) exceedingly uncomfortable seats, and (4) rarely showing films you can’t see elsewhere for half the price and in three times the comfort. And worst of all (5) no toffee popcorn, for shame!

(Oooh, looking at that paragraph I am in awe at how badly constructed it is! Mr Nightingale would be turning in his grave if he could see it. And if he was dead. [Mr Nightingale = phenomenally good secondary school english teacher, an inspiration to many years worth of students myself included, and generally an all round good egg, but rather testy when it came to trying to bash grammar/sentence structure into my brain. He is, the last time I checked, very much alive and still terrorizing, sorry teaching, pupils]. Anyhoo…)

So why go to this cinema then? I did mention that the showing was free, didn’t I? And that I am a student? And that it was a preview, so I could gloat about seeing it before most of the plebs out there?
-checks last few paragraphs-
Yep, all that is in there somewhere. Ok, the gloating is implied, but it was there in my head when I wrote this under the influence of a cup of Assam tea*.

The plan: Get up nice and early on Sunday morning to catch the 10 am bus into the city centre, which will leave us just enough time to get us to the Docks (where the cinema is) for 10.30 when doors open. If we missed that bus, we were, essentially and not very poetically, screwed.

The catalogue of events that caused Sunday to be a Bob of Doom () day and not a Four Penguin ( X 4) day are as follows:
(1) There is a party in our block on Saturday night which was so loud sleep was just not an option till gone 2 am.
(2) The bus was actually on time (:O real shock!). So this isn’t in itself a bad thing, but bear with me here.
(3) On the way to the cinema we see two un-marked police cars. One is a green MGF and the other a gold VW Golf. NOT normal when you consider the average undercover police car is a Vauxhall Astra or maybe a Volvo if they’re feeling snazzy. Again, not a bad thing exactly, just very very odd.
(4) There a three fire engines parked outside the cinema. Once more, odd.
(5) There is a distinct lack of, for example, billowing smoke, running, screaming, hunky firemen dousing the flames, sirens and the like, so we think they are just there for safety for the boat show going on at the Docks.
(6) A very nice lady standing at the door of the cinema turns us away saying “I’m sorry, the film is cancelled today, the cinema is on fire”. Again, there is a lack of the things catalogued in (5), but who are we to challenge her on this?
(7) Hum. What to do? There are now no buses back to the flat because it is VE day and the city centre is totally shut down till the afternoon to allow for the parade. This, by the way, is why if we missed the 10 am bus we were metaphorically shafted.
(8) Which leads to a long walk back home, but it was counted as exercise for the day, so I escaped having to go to the gym (woot!), though it did leave me with a slight blister and a renewed desire to find a replacement pair of shoes for the pair that bit the dust recently.

Putting it all like that, it doesn’t look so bad, but I really really was looking forward to seeing The Jacket, and I got up early for nothing (again, those who know me will testify that I do NOT do mornings).
and
(9) I then found out that a book I had from the library had been recalled, and as I was going to Swindon today, I had to take it back on Sunday, but I needed to photocopy a portion of it just small enough so that I don’t break copyright, but the photocopy machines were hating me, and I used up all my pound coins so now I can’t do laundry for a while, and it pissed me off, and I missed a bus and had to wait half an hour in the cold and…
(10) I repeat, I had to go to Swindon today, which again meant waking up early, and due to noisy people in the flat I haven’t had a proper lie in, in months, and I am behind on all my assignments, and I am grumpy, and I have run out of books to read again, and…

Oh frell, I’m just going to go to shut up and go to bed, because you can’t be enjoying reading this!

Links between last few titles and posts have been:
My Uncle’s name is Nelson = Very upset none of you even tried to guess this one. If you go to the cinema a fair bit, like I do, you will be familiar with the little Orange adverts that pop up. One of them, promoting foreign films, has the little bald one going “Et Bob, est ton oncle” (forgive the spelling, it’s been a while since GCSE french), and the boss-one going “Bob’s you’re uncle? But my uncle’s name is Nelson…” Funny if you are (a) British, or (b) Me and Moose. The link? Well, quite simply I’d been to the cinema that day, remembered again how funny I found it, and made it the title.
Never start a land war in Asia = A slightly left-handed link here. You are recommended never to start a land war in Asia, that’s a given. And if you’re Tony Blair, you are recommended never to start a land war in a Middle East country that borders on bits of Asia, because you will loose a lot of support in a general election. I did mention it might be tenuous. Oh, and for the historically minded of you out there, the date of posting also more or less coincided with the anniversary of the fall of Saigon. Now there was one land war in Asia that was a really REALLY bad idea.

* Really, I was drinking a luuuuuuuuuuuverly cup of Assam tea as I was typing this. (One of) the ways to my heart is a good cup of tea. I really felt for Arthur in Hitchhikers when he couldn’t get a good cup of tea, poor chap.