rumours of my disappearance…
I know, but after spending the best part of five months sitting on my arse in front of one type of screen or another, the reopening of activities that demand engaging with the real world was moreish to say the least and I have been throwing myself back into them while we still had the last of the summer left. This is not including those days where the streets outside were so hot the only thing I threw myself into was the cool embrace of my fridge, which I did with the sort of abandon most people reserve for the receipt of lifechanging news. Thankfully I am now almost back at my fighting weight, give or take.
The exception to the screen avoidance has been the cinemas, after the gradual reopening of first the Genesis (where I had a pleasant walk up to see the fun/incomprehensible to anybody sober Tenet and was thrilled beyond all sensibility to find dark chocolate Bounty bars in a shop along the way), I caught a handful of favourites at the Picturehouse Central in town for the posh seats and at the start of the month the BFI, where I got stuck into the member-voted Classics strand with aplomb and went to see Jaws, Singing In The Rain, The Wizard Of Oz, Breakfast At Tiffanys and Pulp Fiction all inside a week – result! And the Prince Charles finally reopens on the 16th…
By way of a bonus, the weather is most definitely on the Autumn turn now after a bit of a false start and things are settling down nicely in general – the aircon is hopefully done with for the year, the boots, jumpers and scarves have been unearthed (and not a few new ones bought alongside a coat, sunglasses, a couple of hats and an umbrella), and after a fairly strictly enforced moritorium on the baking of anything until I could comfortably get back into my 28″ jeans, the panic is over and both cookie and gingerbread doughs have retaken their rightful place in the fridge (dumplings will remain out of bounds for a week or two, suet being something of a gateway drug).
I have finally been to the Tates (Britain and Modern), had a long overdue eye test (two; both mostly useless, at least unaided), virtually inhaled a McDonald’s (with 50% off at Leicester Square) and also had fish and chips for the first time in many months courtesy of Poppies in Spitalfields, where I once bought chips and curry sauce after an evening at Rich Mix up the road and was impressed with both. I now know that the battered haddock is equally celestial, and therefore that it’s probably fortunate for the 28″ jeans and everything else in the wardrobe that I’m not really in the habit of ordering takeaways.
A retro favourite for Song Of The Week, and one which has been a not-especially-annoying (unless you’re one of my neighbours) earworm for about a month. The one which brought back proper pop songs and rescued us all from the howly power-warbling of the day (sorry Whitney), plus anybody who doesn’t want to listen can just watch the video with the sound off. Bonus!
More soon! As usual all are welcome (sort of), and I promise to update a little more conscientiously from now on, not least because it’s likely to be pissing down morning, noon and night for the foreseeable future according to the October forecast. Lovely.
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