2015 — 5 June: Friday

Unwicked Uncle ERNIE has failed me1 this month. I shall just have to content myself with another cuppa. And it's raining, dagnabbit. Meanwhile, a chum tells me I missed an interesting radio piece about Prester John. Since I only knew the name as a novel by John Buchan, and since it's one of the titles I never read, I may yet fire up get_iplayer. (The second recent update worked fine yesterday evening, by the way.)

Another clue to my Linux audio: downloading the short warning podcast about the relocation of BBC archives played perfectly. However, not so "in" my web browser.

Flaming June...

... is a phrase I use, but until I read the piece in Vanity Fair I was completely unaware of the painting by Frederick Leighton. (Wikimedia has a nice image.) I was amused to learn of Bamber Grassgroin's peripheral involvement — the variant spelling of his surname refers to an old joke about a TV quiz show host with green pubic hair...

Nicely put

Zardoz and Excalibur in one paragraph. What a combo!

He talks of those faraway films that were made by a man named John Boorman and confesses he has a good deal of time for them still. He shot Excalibur (his delirious take on Arthurian myth) in the woods by the house and concedes that the film was so wild that it almost got away from him. The post-apocalyptic Zardoz, too, was shot in the neighbouring hills. Sean Connery once prowled these lonely bridleways, resplendent in a scarlet mankini, his plaited ponytail waving in the breeze. Nowadays, of course, Zardoz enjoys an ardent cult following, but it was reviled at the time; no one could figure out what it meant. Boorman smiles. "Nor could I actually. But that's OK. Or I think it's OK."

Xan Brooks in Grauniad


Boorman DVDs

A beginning, a muddle, and an end. Not necessarily in that order. What more do you want?

Well, a copy of the late Carl Djerassi's autobio "In Retrospect: From the Pill to the Pen" should do the trick. Mine's now on its way.

Time for lemonses...

... and to add a tiny snippet (as I still do, occasionally) to the notes here. Nothing morbid; don't worry! And, for once, I knew exactly where to find my copy of Julian Barnes' excellent memoir. That does make a pleasant change.

Last time I checked, the asking price for a Blu-ray of "Sling Blade" was an outrageous £24-99 — a bit rich, even with its superb soundtrack music by Daniel Lanois. I've just banged off my order for a double BD of that and "Monster's Ball" for £7-88 all the way from America. ("Dimmer, dimmer, dimmer, mute, #1" is the remote control sequence needed to switch my Oppo BD player to handle Zone A material.)

Elderly cucumber goes remarkably soggy, doesn't it? Just sayin'. Better get some more fresh stuff in ahead of tomorrow's visitors.

  

Footnote

1  Though not dear Mama, to whom he has sent another little posthumous payout of £25 — that will now wend its eventual way into my hands as her executor. Every little helps...