adore amy

well, that was fun!

And it really, really was, even if the sum total of the last three weeks has left me a bit fatter, a lot tireder and with a new prescription from the optician (I wish I was kidding about the last one).

But it’s also nailed on some new additions to my top film list, got me a look at three cinemas I’ve never been to before and given me yet more reason to eat junk, skip sleep and spend a lot of time sitting on my arse. Celluloid Screams in particular – even leaving aside the second opportunity to see Mandy in four days (and see picture above for why I was confused afterwards when looking for the hand dryers and soap in the Ladies whilst still a bit puddled; the things in the picture apparently are air fresheners) – was a blast.

All good things come to an end, and I’ll have been back here in the real world for ten days before Saturday’s gruelling (5am start, 6am train, post midnight finish) FrightFest Halloween all day event followed by a return to Aldgate East from Sunday, and whilst it’s not quite time to put the blog page with the details up yet, Christmas plans are afoot and even beyond! The going-back-of-the-clocks means Christmas cake baking day has made its annual appearance (thankfully an uneventful one apart from the mess) to kick off the festive stuff since the film festival part of the year is winding down; not counting the Prince Charles, where a mini festival could be built from the programme every week without too much difficulty and that certainly includes the approaching one – on Saturday alone if I got fed up of the FrightFest films, I could wander the hundred yards round the corner for half past three and see Bullitt, The Big Lebowski, a Blade Runner (old and new) double bill and – yes – Mandy again, all in slightly under eleven hours. I probably would too, if I wasn’t otherwise engaged.

Back at HQ the nights are drawing in, the closing of the living room curtains was before 5pm for the first time today which was depressing enough, and why we can’t have the extra hour in bed on a Monday instead of a Sunday when at least a few more people might get some benefit from it is a mystery to me. Also creeping up is the annual Black Friday sale and this years’ shopping list is started; a shameful glorification of commercial overkill and rampant consumerism it may well be, but it ought to get me a few quid of my longed-for chest freezer – yay! Another BF bonus is the chance to block-organise discounted hotel bookings in some lovely venues for the next six months or so, although anybody who is making plans beyond the end of next March must have access to more useful information than is available to me and possibly ought to be passing it on the Foreign Office, since they clearly don’t have it either.

Song Of The Week is hopefully some small consolation for those who always seem to cop a near miss; having organised everything mercilessly for my last proper weekend away until April-ish I found out two days ago that Jon Spencer is playing at Rough Trade in Spitalfields on Friday night (some ten minutes’ walk from where I will be for a full three days from Sunday) so not only will I miss it, but I’ll miss it by approximately eleven hours. Bollocks, then.

Our convenient film link is that this song is also featured in Baby Driver starring Ansel Elgort, who I saw in Duplicate a couple of weeks ago at the London Film Festival and which whilst no standout, was not half bad. Bellbottoms!

More soon! Since I’m still in Scarborough for now, heating on, I think.

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