Truly, I had no intention of watching Persuasion last night. I had, moreover, elected to assiduously avoid it due to a flurry of poor reviews upon its release. But I found myself in the all-too-common predicament of having bugger-all to watch, and my supper of boiled beef and pickled parsnips was steadily growing cold. And so I took a chance.
What struck me at first was how very gorgeous Dakota Johnson, who portrayed Anne, was. I had never considered Anne Elliot to be a great beauty but thought she had so many redeeming qualities that she might possess an acquired appeal. Perhaps her resignation to spinsterhood put her more at ease with the opposite sex, but she was portrayed as a very confident woman in this adaptation and, interestingly, coyly sexy. I feel that I can live with the talking to camera and interspersal of modern dialogue, it must be entirely forgivable by dint of the fact that it is an adaptation. Why bother reproducing anything if it is merely a copy, it is much more diverting to redraw it with the artistic eye of the maker. I particularly took to Mia McKenna-Bruce as Mary Musgrove. Apart from that lovely face, her voice has a honeyed rasp as if just awoken from a nap in a downy four-poster bed. She exuded squandered privilege, youth and good health. But she was far from wearying; Mary was delicious and entertaining. Richard E. Grant, who by special edict (proclaimed by everyone in the British Isles, ever) must never play anyone but himself, played himself but oodled oiled selfishness and narcissism. Captain Wentworth, played by Harrison Cosmo Krikoryan Jarvis was, as his name suggests, very hot. Before I take up my embroidery and go back to my only entertainment of looking out the window, I would like to say that I enjoyed it. I know that I am tardy in offering my opinion and can offer no excuse other than I am quite, quite dead. Jane.
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Do you ever wonder if there's something utterly fantastic left in you? Do you ever fantasize about doing something that, whilst terribly wicked, would be oh so cool to pull off?
I do. Today I was thinking about doing a bank job. Breaking in under the noses of security guards, tippy toeing around, scooping up the contents of safety deposit boxes... And then I thought of all the age related crap that would scupper me:- 1. I'm a forensic liability: I leave a sprinkling of hair wherever I go. 2. I talk to myself. Mostly swearing. 3. I have rheumatism and can't go down stairs without going, 'Ooh ah! ooh ah!' 4. I haven't got Catherine Zeta Jones's bum and my bosom couldn't sneak through a laser field. 5. I need frequent pee breaks. 6. I can't see close to. 7. I can't see far away. 8. I don't actually need anything. 9. But I do need naps. 10. Obviously, I'm always forgetting why I'm where I am and what I'm about to do. On the upside, I think a bit of jail time sounds quite enriching. With one shot at this life, trying everything is surely what it's all about. So who's with me?!! In response to the follows and direct message requests from men on Instagram, I wrote this. I hate it when this happens, with the exception of 'Idris Elba' or 'Henry Cavill'. My friend has a George Clooney and, I have to say, I wouldn't mind getting a Tom Hardy...
I am not here to find a date but thanks anyway, Franky-2108. If I were looking for a hairy, mustachioed man you’d be top of the list, my dear Hasan. And Matt, nice tats but you look too chilly in just a vest, I can see your Willy_41, a fine military father, you look awfully nice but you’re being a bother. I can see why you’re desperate, Don, stuck on a rig, but I won’t be coming cos I get seasick. But Jerry200907772, in your V8 truck, and your Mustang, your Harley I say yes, you’re in luck! My husband saw your rides and would LOVE to meet up! I wrote this back in March. We locked ourselves down from the 12th because we are an auto immune trio; type 1 diabetes, arthritis and celiac disease. I was designated the one who ventures out to shop and as a consequence, I haven't had a proper snog for nearly three months!
My Love, l want to kiss you on the cheek, but my germs might linger for a week and march their way on to your lips; I will not make my darling sick. I could kiss you quick, then on advice remove it with a Clorox wipe. Perhaps a peck upon your head but there’s no more hair to stop the spread. I might just plant one on your knee where the bug can’t reach you - orally. Or better still, upon your toe, I mean, that’s awfully far for germs to go. I could leave it on a post-it paper, a paper kiss is sooner safer. Or on Zoom it won’t transmit, I’ll blow you one from fingertips. We can rethink our affection save our love, avoid infection. So snog me through the sunroom door a pane of glass is safe, for sure. It'll taste of Windowlene but ensure our love is squeaky clean! Don't you miss the freedom of being able to have your buddy over for lunch? Is it just me or do you notice the changed, positively charged atmosphere in the house once people have left? Probably because I make a huge effort to tidy but even so, a house feels so much better, even for several days after there have been friends and laughter.
I wrote this for people to send to their friends on Messenger or share to their pages. It was inspired by a 'friendship ball' a pal dropped in my messenger to bounce on and share. Lovely idea. Perhaps you can copy and share the poem below or find it as a card in my Zazzle store And the women stayed at home
and discovered a new rhythm. They did not set their alarm clocks and stayed in bed to read the news with time for two cups of coffee. Or tea. And were still on time for work. When they dressed it was without bras. Those that wore false eyelashes cast them off. Those that tonged, curled or straightened could not be arsed. Some saw dark roots, some went grey yet they did not despair. They found a worky place in the house that was just for them and God help anyone who put their stuff there. It also came about that all the family wore headphones so nobody had to hear each other’s stupid annoying Facebook videos. Or talk to each other. And so there was harmony where once there was discord. They made soup with all manner of sad vegetables and fridge matter as nothing was to be wasted. And it was delicious. They walked in the open air with their sisters and the fresh air was, somehow, extra delicious. They taught themselves not to stress about a global recession for there was nothing to be done but partake of virtual happy hours. And they found time to write, read, work out, learn a new language, skill or qualification or play on their phone a bit too much. And the women flourished as they embraced their new normal and understood that, above all, this was a time of great change and discovery without actually ever going anywhere or doing anything. And as long as there was a goodly supply of gin and chocolate in the house, they could, even with no bra on and yesterday’s socks, meet each new day just as they were. I'm a silver lining kind of gal and I am acutely aware that I should make a jolly post particularly in view of the fact that we have some new Facebook page likes. But these last few days I've got myself all screwed up over this virus and don't feel particularly witty or inspirational.
BUT I want to say that one very positive thing has occurred to me; exactly because we're probably all so wobbly about it, we are taking precautions that we never normally do over flu seasons. Even just vigilant hand washing and sanitizing will be an excellent precaution and put us ahead of the curve. So that's good. On a side note, I would love to see and would be won over by gas/petrol stations, restaurants and stores publicize that they regularly sanitize everything that we pick up and share. I've always felt that way about card terminals and things like shared condiments in restaurants - they only ever wipe tables. Anyway, my family is in the UK and I have to say, my old mum is in her element. I rather think it's that wartime spirit and ingenuity. Those that experienced that are so well equipped and fear less compared to us 50's and 60's babies that enjoyed the carefree decades that have followed. We will no doubt shift and adapt and our children will take the controls with even greater knowledge and respect for the powers of nature. They will be braver and appreciate more. I'm going to try and do that right now precisely because I'm fearful, as a mother and as a daughter. I reckon I can take a page from the generations of my family that have been through wars and infinitely worse epidemics and find my brave woman self. And I will meet the world fearlessly clasping my little bottle of hand sanitizer, even if it was made in China. Yeah! (I might just give it a little wipe first, though) In my book introduction, I refer to my journey as coming from the bubbling springs of youth to the estuary of middle age. I know that sounds harsh and a bit bloody miserable but I think that's a fine analogy! The estuary part might be premature because the next bit is when you get flushed out to sea and old age is hopefully more enjoyable than that. Perhaps we should add a nice harbor with a lot of fishing, restaurants and cruises to wash into first. Anyway, back to the estuary analogy, I do think I'm mid to lower course in river terms. Much goes on in the latter stages of a river, there's a lot of traffic both commercial and pleasure. It is wider and a little more slow moving and the current is probably still strong but dispersed, the effort of trying to go against it, defy it and go back upstream, however, is still considerable. Meandering is a quality I very much share with a mid to late stage river, especially if you put me in a supermarket without a shopping list on a poor memory day. Or in Target, any day. An old river can accommodate pretty much anything, it has deep channels. It carries experience and capability, it has seen it all. There can also be wildlife preserves where everything is left to grow naturally and untamed with often quite unreachable parts - and bits of me can certainly attest to that! Image nicked from www.profantasy.com
A few years ago, my husband woke me up and asked for my help trimming his hair. He was off especially early to an important business meeting. I'll keep this very short: This was never going to go well because, well, I had just woken up and not had my coffee. Also, I had never used electric trimmers before but feeling confident, I plunged right in. I stopped when I realized I had no bloody idea what I was doing, although the damage was already done. Now tell me this, a question that still lingers to this very day; whose fault was it? Are you scurrying around frantically getting ready for Christmas? I often wonder how many other religious festivals around the world expand into such overwhelming proportions. It literally fills the senses and satisfies all our vices. It has evocative sights, sounds and smells that make us all tingly and The Seven Deadly Sins are tested to capacity with enormous doses of family, food and acquisition. Although I'm not sure about lust, I'm too tired, stuffed or busy for lust. Anyway, I'm waffling. What I wanted to say is that I have simplified Christmas in our house and hopefully removed any bits that could kick off any conflict. We have one teenager and I hope one day there will be grandchildren and when that happens, I will definitely dial it back up but for now, we do this: Church - Not everybody wants to go. I don't mind the first half hour but then I'm done. It's important, I know, so some of us go and I spend the last hour with a sore bottom, wondering about getting the cooking done and slightly dreading the moment when I have to turn around and do the 'Peace be with you' bit and have to touch people I don't know. The Meal - These last two years, l have roasted a couple of chickens because no one is super keen on turkey but we all enjoy the traditional trimmings. (Although the kid hates gravy and I wonder if we're related.) Because chickens are so much smaller, the stresses of timings evaporate and the whole cooking process is relatively stress free. Anyway, we eat gluten free in our house and we enjoy gf bread sauce, chibbley roasted potatoes and parsnips, gf bread stuffing and sausage stuffing. Two of us eat brussels, one eats broccoli, two drink champagne and wine, one only ever drinks water (again, not sure if we're related), two eat Christmas pudding with brandy butter, one will eat a Terry's Chocolate Orange (phew! We are related after all). Prezzies and Stockings -The husband and I just do stockings and no extravagant gifts to each other. On the one hand, we feel so humble and grateful that we have everything we could ever want. On the other hand, Amazon has already delivered copious items all year round and that's why we can't actually think of anything we still need. There is less under the tree in general this year as the kid likes cold hard cash and maybe some computer games. The dogs get given about as much as I do and then waddle about in overly tight dog pajamas licking glitter off the floor. It is not the Christmas I grew up with and all our family is back in the UK. But Chicago is cold and crispy and our neighbor's lights are twinkly and we get our Christmas tingles just the way each of us want. |