2011 — 27 September: Tuesday
Start the day with a rousing burst of Carl Orff,1 and a rousing infusion of tannin. It's 08:49 and not very enticing-looking weather out in the 'real' world.
The lady from the delivery outfit named after the winged messenger of the gods has just dropped off two of my more predictable recent choices of reading:
Meanwhile, my next bunch of freshly-picked grapes is soaking. It's amazing to see the variety of little life-forms one bunch of grapes can house.
The "Private Eye" book is hilarious.
Duck à la Plum...
... in sandwich form at Annie's in Kimbridge, arrived at in a topless Peugeot, has just been the appetiser for an MTV 1992 "Unplugged" CD by Eric Clapton that is also — according to the sleeve notes — available on laser disc and video. Could have done with less audience participation, however. Followed by a new Joe Bonamassa collaboration ("Don't Explain") with Beth Hart. Excellent. But now it's the Goldberg Variations as re-interpreted by the Jacques Loussier Trio. And nearly time (16:52) for my next cuppa. The sun is shining and the sky is a cloudless blue.
The opening 50 pages or so of the Kermode book perfectly encapsulate2 why going to a modern multiplex digital projection cinema is now generally such an abhorrent experience. Unless you trot along in the middle of the day and the middle of winter to a reduced-rate-for-pensioners screening, which is how I first saw "Avatar" last year.
Although as a student and apprentice I often saw three films a week in the cinemas of St Albans and Hatfield, I now very much prefer my little luxury "home cinema" alternative. You never have to book online, for starters. Or queue for a bus before and after. Or (in the case of a screening of "Ben Hur" at the Regional Film Theatre some 40 years ago) creep out before the end to catch the last bus back to your digs.
It will be nice...
... to see niece #4 for a bit tomorrow, but I have no idea how dear Mama will react. Still, I'll find out soon enough. G'night.