A week or so back, [personal profile] arnie1967 asked about favourite songs, and how they make us feel. It was an interesting question, but I didn't get around to answering it at the time. Kept thinking about it though, and with my usual inability to come to a decision about favourite songs, I shovelled a bunch of them into a folder, and then wrote down the first ten titles that resulted from a random play. This is the result, and it's a playlist that I'm very happy with. As to how they make me feel... Well, they're good songs, so I suppose the obvious answer is "good", but there is a bit more to that, at least occasionally.

... )
swordznsorcery: (whitecollar)
( Apr. 10th, 2017 20:56)
I keep forgetting to do this, although admittedly it doesn't change much from week to week. Since last time, I've watched a fascinating mini-series that, like Boy Dominic, I picked up in a Network sale a couple of years ago, and have only just got around to. It's called Wolcott, and was apparently Britain's first police drama with a black lead. I wish I could say that it distinguishes itself! First the good points: it has a great cast. George Harris is a charismatic lead, and heads the cast well as the titular Wolcott. He's supported by a shedload of British character actors, many of them familiar from other police dramas, including Christopher Ellison (Burnside from The Bill as - surprise! - a crooked detective). Rik Mayall also features as a loathsome, racist PC. It also has very funky music. That's where the good stuff ends. Apparently the cast hated the show, and I can see why. It's trying very hard to be Shaft, but what worked for New York City in the seventies, is not going to work for London, and certainly not in 1981, the year of the Brixton Riot. The characters are dreadful stereotypes. Wolcott himself is impossibly good; everybody else is either a racist, or a two-dimensional Jamaican gangster. Jeepers. I've since taken refuge in a rewatch of the final season of White Collar, which I loved so much at the time. It's still good. If you've never seen White Collar, I wholeheartedly recommend it.

Oh, and also in the world of telly - Sleepy Hollow finished. No decision yet on whether there will be a fifth season. I ended up really loving season four, against all the odds. It was nearly as much fun as season one, and the new cast were all great. Jenny got to be properly awesome throughout, and the last scene of the final episode was proper silly grin stuff. A nice place to leave the show, if it turns out that that was it.

In reading, I've just finished A Symphony Of Echoes by Jodi Taylor, the second in her time-travelling historian series. It's all about an institute called St Mary's, which houses a band of historians, who travel through time to witness famous events. Think time-travelling history nerds, fuelled by tea and explosions, and you're pretty much there. The books are fast-moving; a bit shallow, admittedly, but fun. Sentences like "We're St Mary's - there's something wrong if something isn't on fire", will give you some indication as to why it appeals to me. I've heard that the series gets better as it progresses, so I shall certainly hunt out some more. Otherwise still scrambling through a complete Sherlock Holmes readthrough, and am currently on The Valley Of Fear, which is an interesting one. Don't think I've read it before. Holmes books are always oddities. Nothing happens in them - absolutely nothing at all. They break all of the "show, don't tell" rules. We're told about everything after it happens, and never witness anything exciting. And yet somehow you never mind. Conan Doyle's prose is a thing of beauty. (Although if you could stop with all the "You can tell he's a criminal by the shape of his head", and "It was clearly a woman's handwriting," Sir Arthur, that'd be good, thank you kindly.)

Also a thing of beauty (corny links, I has them) was the weather of the last few days. My mother's weeping cherry tree exploded into life quite magnificently (she's only had it a year, and last year it only managed one flower!). It's properly settled in now though, and it looks stunning. Spring is nice. I do wish this one particular wasp (I'm assuming it's the same one, purely because they look alike, although I admit that that's hardly damning evidence) wouldn't keep flying through my window though. I have to keep leaping madly to the kitten's defence to stop her trying to eat it. *sigh*

There are pictures under the cut, of springy colour. It's all grey again outside today though. You're a killjoy, April. Give me my sun back.

... )

Oh, and top five artists of the last seven days, courtesy of last.fm:

Queen
a-ha
Blondie
Joe Jackson
Pet Shop Boys

(a-ha just put out a new album in 2015, so that list is more modern than you might assume, honest.)
It's been a fab day today. I got the lawn mowed, and did some pond tidying up. Also planted some stuff that will hopefully be tasty eventually. Then I retired to the iPlayer, and watched some programmes about Top Of The Pops in 1977 and 1978, and terrified myself by remembering all of it. I was two in 1977, for goodness sakes! Why do I remember every twist and turn of the UK's pop music scene back then, including still being able to sing along with most of the songs?! If I could remember a few useful things as well, I wouldn't mind so much. Blimey, things were scary back then though. Wall to wall Boney M! Also Brotherhood Of Man, in pink nylon, singing a spectacularly cheesy song called Angelo, in which two young lovers commit suicide. Sung complete with synchronised "waving goodbye" dance moves. I don't think it was meant to be funny.

Boney M, though. Forty years on, I still haven't quite figured out what that was all about. Ra-Ra-Rasputin indeed. I went to YouTube, with the intention of posting an illustrative video on the horrors of the likes of Rivers Of Babylon or Brown Girl in The Ring. I wound up getting distracted by the "Recommended for you" thingy at the side of the page though, and hit on this, so you got lucky:

... )
It's the song Style, from the 1964 film Robin And The 7 Hoods, performed by Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. The film isn't perfect, but it's good fun, and this song always makes me smile.

And here, have some bottled spring:

... )
The first is tulips, the second is my mother's Magnolia stellata. I bought it for her several years ago, as she's magnolia mad, and doesn't have space for a tree. It was tiny, and this year it flowered for the first time. Also, my first ducks of the year!

Now that I've spoken of sunshine and flowers, it'll hail tomorrow. Ah well.
Tags:
How are we already in week #2? It's going to be 2018 before we've drawn breath at this rate. So far I'm not achieving a great deal. I started the new year by beginning to read The Brothers Karamazov, but that's ground to a resounding halt. Yeesh. There is a not a character I don't want to strangle (and I'd quite like to throttle Dostoevsky while I'm at it). I think I'll give it up for a bit, and try again later. My tenth anniversary rewatch of Torchwood was rather more successful, happily. I was pleased to find that I loved it just as much now as then, including the ones that I hadn't seen since their first showing. It looks quite hilariously cheap at times though. You can certainly tell that it was made in a hurry. Strictly speaking I should wait until this time next year for the tenth anniversary rewatch of season two, but I want to watch the James Marsters episode, so that ain't gonna happen.

In other still-old-but-newer-than-is-usual-for-me telly, I haven't watched any more Heroes since I last posted about it, because stuff always seems to get in the way. I must get back to it (preferably before Trump gets bored, and blows us all up come the summer). I think I've forgotten which episode I watched last though. Damn.

In non-fandom related stuffs... nope, sorry, that's all very boring. I ate a very nice banana this morning, if anybody's interested. Spent the weekend mainlining 1983 episodes of Top Of The Pops on the iPlayer. Peter Powell! Stupid clothes! Peter Powell in stupid clothes! Also Wham! and Spandau Ballet (more stupid clothes). Took the kitten to be spayed last week. She's now sporting a bald patch, although major surgery doesn't seem to have slowed her down any. (Technically she's not a kitten anymore, as she'll be two in May, but she has stunted growth due to a bad start in life, and also she's quite convinced she's still a kitten).

Figure A: Cats (this being the internet, you're probably familiar with the species).

The 2016 Fandom Meme, plus cats... )
swordznsorcery: (Default)
( Dec. 31st, 2016 20:48)
Obligatory end-of-year post. I was going to do the meme that everybody's posting today, but it's got too many questions! I get bored after answering about ten. So instead I'll point you at this rather wonderful 2016 song, which nicely sums up everything we've all been thinking. Not safe for work; but then it probably couldn't have been. It's tempting to hope for better for 2017, but bearing in mind that Trump hasn't even come to power yet, my natural tendency towards optimism is currently feeling a tad wobbly.

2016, then. The good bits. Best telly (other than the mothballed old stuff that I usually watch) has probably been Lucifer. I heartily recommend that one to most of you. Season one was fun last year, but season two has been terrific, and Tom Ellis is a revelation. Here he is (in character) belting out a jazzed up version of All Along The Watchtower.

Best book... I wish I could say the final Temeraire, but it seemed a bit of a damp squib, somehow. Mind you, my expectations were probably set a bit high. Instead I think I'll go with The Tyrannosaur Chronicles by Dave Hone, because tyrannosaurs. Basically he wrote the book I've been wanting since I was about four. Now all I need is for somebody to write similar ones for all the other types of dinosaur! And Dimetrodon while they're at it. And listen! The first fireworks of the evening.

Best music is an awkward one, as I don't listen to much modern stuff. Lee Mead put out a new album earlier this year, called Some Enchanted Evening, which I like a lot. Nice to see him doing some old standards, as he always was good at them. And Holly Johnson had a new single out this year called Ascension, which was good. Even if did come from the Eddie the Eagle film. (Sorry, I grew up in Cheltenham. I have an Eddie the Eagle allergy.)

Best film is another awkward one. Pretty sure I've only seen one 2016 film this year, which was the live action (well, mostly CGI, actually) remake of The Jungle Book. Fortunately I absolutely loved it, which is just as well, as I guess it wins by default. Trailer here.

Looking back at my list, I see that the first book I read in 2016 was Immortal In Death by JD Robb. Sounds frighteningly prescient for the year that was to follow, so if all of that was in any way my fault, I apologise! Last book of the year was Is There Life Outside The Box? by Peter Davison. Less murder, more jokes. Also, a special pair of sentences for you, [personal profile] lost_spook! On page 196: "I was keen to make The Last Detective; it reminded me of a show I'd watched as a teenager called Public Eye that starred Alfred Burke. With its easy pace and gentle humour and world-weary central character, it had been a success for many years." (Yeah, he's not in love with punctuation. Sorry about that. ;) The index, however, is a thing of beauty.) But see! All you need to do is abduct Peter Davison, and extract the missing episodes from his brain! This is a faultless plan for 2017.

Um. And I shall leave it there. Happy 2017, everybody. Let's try to keep the NHS; try to stop Trump inadvertently starting a nuclear war with China via Twitter; and, I don't know. Hope that Trump takes his head off, and reveals that he was Hillary Clinton all along? Well, it's a thought.

See you in January.
So, in other news, 2016 is an utter bastard. Yes, I know. That's one headline that's shocking precisely no-one. The latest in its string of victims is Joe Mascolo, who is not terribly well known in the UK, I know. He was eighty-seven, which isn't bad going really, but I've been watching him for the best part of twenty years, and I really liked the character that he played on TV. Also, turns out he'd been fighting Alzheimer's for some time, poor man. Never have known it - he was recording new scenes until late last year, so I guess he found ways to cope as well as possible. Why didn't we just jettison this year back in January, when it showed early signs of going so badly wrong?

*sigh*

But behind all the grumbling, I did actually come here for a rather more cheerful reason than another 2016-flavoured moan. Somebody just pointed me at this video, and it's utterly marvellous. Christmas on Deep Space 9! The creator of this has put together the best edited video that I've seen in a long while. It's completely ridiculous - it's slightly scary that they even thought of it, let alone managed it - but trust me, you need it in your life. It even made me smile, and I'm allergic to smiling.

Simply having a wonderful... )
I know, I am a very bad poster. I've been trying to keep up to date with you all, but I apologise for the lack of comments. I don't seem to have had the brain for it recently. November was a heck of a month! But now it's December; and hey, Donald Trump hasn't blown us all up yet. Not necessarily for lack of trying.

So, what's been going on. Well, it got cold. I'm still sulking about that. I was mostly working outside this summer, and the back of my neck went the sort of colour likely to get it kicked out of the country by UKIP. It's well on its way back to its old, boring shade now though. Woe. I complained to my mother about how dull and pasty we are, but she did point out that it would have caused all kinds of problems with my father if I had come out a different colour. Which is true. But still.

In fandomosity, Laramie continues to be entertaining. Lucifer has become gloriously unmissable. I'm still occasionally watching episodes of Simon & Simon, because it is indeed the series that never stops. I've also started watching Heroes. I missed it when it first aired (can't remember why); and then everybody seemed to agree that seasons two and three were terrible, so there seemed little reason to start. I found season one for a quid in a charity shop recently though, so I thought I'd give it a whirl. And hurrah, it's fab. Or at least it currently is. I think I've seen four episodes. I see that episode four aired in October of 2006, so I'm only ten years and two months behind, which is quite good for me. Current thinking: Peter Petrelli needs to die, and quickly. And somebody get him a haircut, for Rassilon's sake. Suresh rocks though. Sadly it seems that Aramis will be mostly wielding a paintbrush rather than a sword, for verily there is no justice in the world. *heavy sigh* And Hiro is pretty awesome.

I say it's fab, and it mostly is, but it has made me think. As it started, I was quite impressed with the diversity of the cast. To begin with. But whilst the guys are all colours and shapes, and are professors and techies and go-getting politicians, etc, the women are both petite blondes. And one's a stripper and the other's a cheerleader. Hmm. (Incidentally, thank you all, for I probably wouldn't have noticed that once upon a time, and I do think it's better that it should register).

In the news today, I see that Peter Vaughan has died. This makes me sad. Partly because he was a larger than life character actor (ninety-three years old!), whose career spanned all kinds of things. But also partly because that pretty much leaves Colin Jeavons as the lone surviving Adam Adamant Lives! enemy; of the existing episodes, anyway. Chapters are always ending. C'est la vie, I know, but it doesn't hurt to be a little wistful.

As a parting shot, courtesy of the excellent @Trundles_bot on Twitter, have a link to a .pdf of the Blake's 7 1981 annual. Hilarious costumes abound! If you're on Twitter, I very much recommend following @scorpioattackb7, incidentally. They're doing a weekly episode review, with some fabulous publicity shots, and snippets of background information unearthed from all sorts of places. It's a fascinating read. Up next is "Orbit", so prepare for Christmas to be ruined all over again when they hit "Blake" in a matter of weeks!

Um. Yeah, that's about all. Bye.
Dear Brain,

If there's some reason why I've spent the last few days singing a selection of songs from the BBC Radio for Schools production Queen Beryl & the Romans, which my school performed in 1982, then I'd love to hear it. Equally, if there's some reason why I can faultlessly sing a bunch of songs that I haven't heard in thirty-four years, when my memory regarding anything that might be a bit useful is pretty much non-existent, I would also like to know. Really, Brain. It's embarrassing.

Oh hey, look: Peter Davison's got an autobiography coming out! Sounds promising. We already know he can write. I like the write up at Amazon:

His fans have spoken, but despite their requests, Peter Davison has gone ahead and written his autobiography anyway. It wasn't the book they tried to stop it was more like the book they didn't want him to start.

I think I shall look forward to that one.
swordznsorcery: (manolito)
( Aug. 3rd, 2016 00:23)
So, [personal profile] heartonsnow said that I had to post something. That was more than a week ago actually, but I still haven't thought of anything worth posting. Still, let's see where this goes. I'll start with books, as that's easy.

... )
I have dug everything. Everywhere. If there was something you didn't want dug, sorry. It's too late now, you should have said. Everything is now planted in the allotment, but turns out that watering is accomplished by hanging over the riverbank, and dipping a bucket into the water. So that's my job, as there's no way my mother can do that. If you hear a splash, it's me.

Elsewhere (a different river), I was out walking again, watching the bouncing fishes, and look look!

... )
swordznsorcery: (littlejoe)
( May. 28th, 2016 20:45)
A book meme ganked off [personal profile] liadtbunny, and general rambling about life, the universe and everything stuff.

... )
I'm basically being trolled by cats now. I just cleaned out my keyboard, and there was at least one full cats worth of fur stuffed under the keys. They must get together to poke it down there when I'm not around. None of which is what I came here to post. What did I come here to post? Nothing. Something. I ought to post something, as I never do, and the rest of you lead interesting lives, or at least manage to make yourselves sound interesting, and I'm just here being me.

I read a book! It was a very nice book. It's called The Tyrannosaur Chronicles, by Dave Hone (except he's called David Hone on the cover, to make himself sound more serious and sciencey). It's all about the biology of tyrannosaurs, and what we know, and how we know what we know, and it's full of nice diagrams of skeletons. Also it's purple. 99.9% of you aren't remotely interested, but I'm recommending it anyway, as I promised I would. (I read some other books too, but this one was best).

I've also been watching films, on and off. I've been trying to watch one a week, as I haven't really watched films in years, and to start with I decided it was high time I got around to seeing the Back To The Future trilogy. It's supposedly one of those iconic 80s things, but despite seeing the first one at the cinema about two million years ago, I'd never seen the others. I shan't be bothering again! Although the third one wasn't entirely bad. Then I rewatched the Indiana Jones trilogy to make me feel better about 80s films (and indeed 80s film trilogies, I suppose). That was much, much better. Also 100% more Tip Tipping. The Last Crusade also featured surprise Julian Glover, which was nice. And then after that, I watched the proper Star Wars trilogy, because they actually put out the proper, non-fiddled-with version on DVD, and Amazon was nice enough to be selling it second hand for 12p. Han clearly fires first, sorry George. It was lots of fun, but sadly Return Of The Jedi left me with the Ewok theme song stuck in my head for three days. Here: click at your peril. Dear me, the eighties were a strange place at times.

Some pictures and things )
It's snowing here. Thick and fast, with gigantic flakes. How is it snowing, sky?! It's April the something. It looks very nice, but my mother asked me to sort out the guttering today, and there's no way I'm going up a ladder right now. (It's getting thicker all the time. It's practically a blizzard now. Is this what you have to expect when you get warm sunshine through December?) Still, I'm feeling reasonably accomplished despite the lack of guttering, as I finally got the Adam Adamant Lives! thing posted that I was supposed to do for [community profile] fandom_stocking back in January. Actually, that's not "accomplished" really, is it. More "What the bloody hell were you playing at all year?!". Still, it's done. (There is now a diagonal wall of white outside the window. I may have vanished completely by lunchtime).

Still, none of this is what I actually set out to post. Internet, I am most displeased with you. You told me, in the only unified voice I have ever known the internet to have, that the new Star Wars film was good. Good, you said. And now, on the eve of its DVD release, I find myself getting massively spoiled for it, and that happens?! Seriously, internet? That happens, and you told me it was good? If anybody wants me, I shall be over in the corner for the rest of the month, rocking gently and making faint squeaking sounds. Whilst glaring at you, internet.

I think my snow is turning to rain. That might be more April, but the snow is infinitely prettier. Make your mind up, sky.


ETA: (Half past eight) Bloody hell, that is proper heavy snow now. I may not be seen again until I can dig myself out sometime in June.
I appear to be under siege by gay terrorists. Every few minutes there's a profusion of pink and orange explosions just outside the window. I suppose they're quite pretty in their own way, but I'd much prefer blue.

Just in case you were wondering (I don't imagine that you were), I have absolutely nothing to say, but as usual I don't seem to have posted in forever, so I thought I should, in case I forget how. Life is much the same as always (if greyer and more wet). I am being stared at by a cat, which presumably means I'm supposed to be doing something that I'm not. I have Dean Martin playing in the background, which means I'm apt to get distracted and forget what I actually am doing. And the roof may be about to be blown off by over-enthusiastic neighbours. If they're going to explodify me, they could at least do it actually on Fireworks Night. Being blown up two days early seems like cheating.

Elsewhere, I appear to be stuck in the 1980s. I don't know why, but I don't seem to have left since I had that Remington Steele rewatch earlier in the year. Currently I'm rewatching Simon & Simon, a show so gloriously 1980s that it practically has a parade of eights tattooed across it. Sorry, that was a very weird metaphor. It's a fab series, though. It really is. I love it to bits. It ran from 1981-1989, (just to prove that occasionally I do manage to fall in love with successful things), which is effectively an entire decade. I know - I'm impressed too. Usually things that I like last for thirteen episodes, then crash and burn and are never seen again. Mind you, that was thirty years ago. Despite great popularity at the time, I now inevitably find myself in a fandom of one, yet again, and grumbling about the lack of extant fans. Come on, world! Discover Simon & Simon! It's utterly wonderful in every way. And look look look! Theme music. Just try to listen to this and not fall in love:

Cutty thing )
swordznsorcery: (e street)
( Oct. 13th, 2015 00:37)
I keep meaning to make a post, and never getting around to it. This generally means that I wind up with about a thousand things that I wanted to say, and no hope of remembering more than a fraction of them. But I very much doubt that any of them were actually interesting, so there's that.

In which I fall victim to the internet's biggest cliché, and post cat pictures )
swordznsorcery: (littlejoe)
( Oct. 3rd, 2015 02:47)
Wasn't that a spectacular moon on Monday morning? Yes, I know I'm days late, but then aren't I always. For practically the first time in recorded memory, something interesting happened in the sky, and the English weather co-operated. I can't say as I noticed the moon being especially large (although it was very bright, certainly, before it turned red). But super or not, the eclipse was nice.

Anyway, spent the weekend up to my elbows in horse manure, which was... nice. My mother's garden is rapidly taking over my life. Still, it's good to be busy. And there were ample compensations, as my sister brought the manure, which meant that I had the love of my life for the weekend, aka her yellow lab. He's old now, and sometimes a bit doddery, but he still confidently expects me to take him on gargantuan walks in the hills, like I used to. Ten minutes in a field is more his limit now! He still thinks he's six months old though. He's daft. And also perfect.

Elsewhere, I am being stalked by an actor. His name is Anthony Calf, and he was in Beau Geste (playing middle brother Digby). Then he turned up in The Monocled Mutineer, and then in Fortunes Of War. Everywhere I turn, suddenly there he is. He seems to forever be playing unremarkable good eggs, so I have no idea if he's especially good or not; although I suppose he must be, to have continued getting all these roles. Always in the military, and always in historical dramas. And always following me. I wonder where he'll turn up next. The IMDb says that he's still around, and has been in New Tricks, so obviously he's allowed into the 21st century sometimes. I'm glad for him. It must be rough only being ye olde times military men, and getting shot at lots.

The Monocled Mutineer finished. It never became cheerful, but it was very well made, and I'm glad that I finally got to see it. Paul McGann is terrific, and he had a good cast around him. I still have one episode of Fortunes Of War left, as I've been doing it weekly, old style. Unless the final episode turns out to be insanely bad, which I can't imagine that it will, then I really recommend this one. It's proper vintage telly, and beautifully done. Great cast; in no hurry whatsoever to tell its story; and actually looks as though the BBC spent some money on it, which is quite a novelty. Can Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson be legally compelled to remarry? Or at least start working together again? This should be allowed. I know she has a husband, but I'm sure he would agree if the telly was good enough.

Elsewhere again, How To Get Away With Murder came back last week, which was nice. Modern telly! Blimey! HTGAWM is of course otherwise known as The Show With Baby Ian Chesterton In It. It's genuinely good (it just won an Emmy, actually - apparently the first time that a black woman has won a lead performance Emmy, which is a trifle disconcerting), but I must admit that a good part of my viewing enjoyment comes from spotting moments when Alfie Enoch looks so very much like his dad. Sorry, show. I do properly like you though.

...And I've just noticed that I have half a tree caught in my hair, from when I was digging over a flowerbed earlier. Would that I could claim I was doing something exciting, like burying bodies or excavating Roman treasure, but I wasn't. Actually I was mostly transplanting lavender bushes. I think I may be the only person on the planet who hates lavender. It's horrible stuff! And it's caught in my trouser turn ups.

I'm being betrayed by my own clothing. I think I better wrap this up before they all turn against me. If you don't hear from me again in the next week, assume that I've been swallowed up completely, and turned into a bush. A nice one, hopefully. Not lavender!
swordznsorcery: (johnblack)
( Sep. 12th, 2015 07:45)
I keep meaning to post, and not getting around to it. I was going to do a post at the end of August, crowing about how many books I've read recently - it's like I've suddenly remembered how to read fiction. I re-read Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, and that seemed to spark something, and I managed nine books in August! I've read nothing much but non-fiction in ages, as I couldn't seem to concentrate on fiction. I don't suppose it will last (and okay, I started JS&MN back in July, and some of the books were pretty short!). But yay. I even made a little celebratory picture to show off with. But now September's practically over, so it doesn't work quite so well coming now. Nonetheless:

Bookishness follows anyway )
swordznsorcery: (e street)
( Aug. 18th, 2015 23:58)
There was a terrific sky earlier. I tried being all photographical, but somebody put a telegraph pole in the way.

Some pictures of things )
swordznsorcery: (Default)
( Aug. 9th, 2015 07:42)
I am the worst LJ/DreamWidther, I know. I don't seem to have spoken to some of you in weeks. It's nothing personal! I just don't seem to have a lot of time lately. I will try to catch up, probably in batches, but lately everything is non-stop. Spent yesterday digging my mother's flowerbeds. (They're too small, so I'm making them bigger). Looking after a neighbour's garden as well at the moment. Then got greeted by my cats in a cloud of fur, so had to spend the next slice of forever brushing them. Seriously, how do two cats generate that much fur?! They're not even long-haired. And then I had to spend several hours minutes trying to rescue a grasshopper from the cat litter tray. I mean really. I appreciate that life is fraught with difficulties when you're two centimetres long, and compelled to keep your knees in your ears, but it can't be so bad that leaping into a cat litter tray seems like a good idea. Especially when you presumably had to leap a good twelve feet up and through a window in order to get there.

But! Life is not all dashing hither and yon. I have recently discovered the BBC's 1982 adaptation of Beau Geste, and have been watching that. And it's wonderful. I'm trying to keep it for Sunday evenings, as it's a very Sunday evening type of show; or what used to be a Sunday evening type of show. The Beeb doesn't really do them anymore. The book is an old favourite of mine, and so far it's a very faithful and effective adaptation. Terrific cast, too. Benedict Taylor is absolutely perfect as Beau, and there's an hilariously callow Jonathon Morris as John Geste. Extra fun for Doctor Who fans too, as not only is the script editor Terrance Dicks, but it was produced by Barry Letts and directed by Douglas Camfield. All of which may explain why some of the desert scenes look a bit like they were filmed in a quarry. Some things never change! I'm three quarters of the way through, and I want it to last much longer than it's going to. It's such a good story that you'd be hard pressed to do it very badly, but who better to adapt a classic adventure story than the BBC, back in the days when they still made telly properly? And yes, I am aware how horribly old and creaky and ridiculous that makes me sound, and I don't entirely mean it (hello, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, for starters). But I do love the old stuff best. I shall probably bother you with screencaps at some point.

Oh, and hey - digging! I love digging, as it turns out. (Well, it's nice, at the grand old age of forty, to finally find that one thing that we're all supposed to be good at). My mother's garden is a disaster area of clay and rubble, but this makes it excellent for fossil hunting (Gloucestershire is a treasure-trove of jurassic marine fossils). So yesterday was gloriously hot and sunny, and I spent it with a spade, up to my knees in clay, finding Interesting Things. Yes, okay, mostly Gryphaea and belemnites, but also a lovely Something. It's probably a piece of coral. I am very pleased with it.

Digging is good. I like digging.
.

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