January 23rd, 2005

This IS me (by schwitters)Default

Better To Travel Hopefully

There are many differences between men's and women's football. One is that at men's games the players don't go around asking each other if anyone's got any lip balm, as we all were before today's 5-a-side tournament in Shadwell.

I went shoe shopping before the game, since the soles of the trainers I've been playing in since 1998 finally parted company from the uppers last match and I decided it was time to buy some proper astroturf boots, a mere decade into my soccer career.

I now own something called a Nike Total 90 III - two somethings, in fact. The sales assistant missed his target rather when he assured me that this was exactly the thing Wayne Rooney is currently playing in: one, I doubt very much that Wayne Rooney is wearing something you can get for thirty quid at JJB Sports in Junior sizes, and two, I couldn't care less what he is wearing, the tosser. Nice boots, though. Shiny. I'm playing better already.

We got through to the semi-finals and had a wildly exciting nil-nil draw, eventually losing by a whisker on penalties. Damn, though, it was cold. I'm not sure of the scientific principles behind this, but when it's cold getting hit by the ball stings like absolute buggery. By five o'clock the sun had set, my legs had gone blue and purple in blotches and I just wanted to get on the East London Line followed by the Jubilee Line and two buses and jump into the bath.

Came home. Discovered that the boiler's on the fritz and there's no heat or hot water.

I'm sure many of you know what it's like when your whole being is focused on how cold you are and how wonderful it will feel when you finally immerse yourself in a steaming hot bath, only to be denied it through no fault of your own, and will be extending heartfelt sympathies.

Thank you.

I have lasagne in the oven, and plan to follow it with a caramel latte; if I can't heat myself from the outside in, I'll just have to do it from the inside out.
  • Current Music
    Not Dark Yet - Bob Dylan
Dogfight [by the_gneech]

Chien qui pète, Joie sur ma tête

I ended up watching A Very Long Engagement on Saturday, having rather fancied it since spotting a biplane in the trailer.

If you've seen Amélie, this is in similar vein: third-person narration, quirky characters, running gags and a chirpy, inquisitive central character. The main difference is that fewer people get spattered with intestines in Amélie.

Mathilde is an orphan left lame by polio in infancy. Her fiancé, a soldier, shot himself through the hand in order to get sent home from the Western Front, but was sentenced instead to walk out into No Man's Land as a punishment for his deliberate self-mutilation. Mathilde, in 1920, is convinced that he is still alive and sets out to investigate the mystery surrounding a trench called Bingo Crépuscule with the aid of a diminuitive private detective, his daughter, a Corsican prostitute and a dog named Chickpea.

It should be unremittingly schmaltzy, but has enough humour and genuinely enthralling plot to redeem itself.

It's interesting to see the First World War from the point of view of the French; one sees - OK, I watch - lots of films about the British and German troops, but very little about the poor old poilus whose countryside we were all churning up.

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P.S: I am drinking tequila and grapefruit juice with a spoonful of sugar, and it's awfully nice. What do you suppose I should call it?
  • Current Music
    Why Not Smile - R.E.M.