Beyonce at the O2 Arena
It's been a while since Lady Stuffy and I went to a concert featuring one of the current crop of popular beat combos or songsters, it's tough to identify performers who bridge our wildly divergent musical tastes, (from Barry White and Michael Jackson to Led Zep and Colin Hay). We agreed that Beyonce fit the spec, Mrs S liked her 'Destinys Child' stuff and adored the movie 'Dreamgirls', I however admire her magnificent bottom and the video for 'Single ladies'.
So off we hied to East London, the magical O2 Arena, (recommended by fellow blogger, passionate imbiber and knowledgeable gigger, Mark) It was an evening of contrast, the venue is amazing and seemed very well run, I'd forgottent that as an O2 subscriber I've got blueroom access but the normal catering seems fine.
The support acts were tedious, the audience was largely female, (good) and very high pitched, (not good). The less-than-thrilling support acts were followed by a 60 minute interval, which (with my legendary tolerance for hanging about) was not appreciated.
Eventually the lass herself finally deigned to step onto the boards in a stunningly lit and choreographed show.
There were a few clues that suggest that Mrs S and I are either a little rusty in the gig glands or may just be "so over it". No doubt that Beyonce has a great voice but the amplification or the acoustics of the dome made it, for me, a noise, without clarity, without personality.
The band looked fabulous and seemed very skilled but I couldn't really be sure because of the poor acoustics. Beyonce does have tons of energy and a great botttom which translated well to the massive screens, indeed the whole visual side of the show was really slick and imaginative.
To summarise, it was an experience but your aged correspondents left before the finale rather than face 20,000 squealing women trying to get on the tube.
I am Haiku fierce ???
Too many
people
Too much noise, too long to wait
that's the bottom line
Movie review........ ................. the men who stare at goats .....
Well, it's a great title isn't it ? andd a heck of a cast, George Clooney, Kevin Spacey, Ewan McGregor and Jeff Bridges trotting out his Big Leibowski routine. It's an attempt to bring the book by Jo
n Ronson to the screen and it works, to an extent. Clooney plays the sparkly-eyed psychic psycho and works well enough with young Obi Wan McGregor to deliver a film that, for me, was amusing throughout, a series of knowing chuckles rather than lots of laughs.
The intended criticism of war and the corporate feeding frenzy that accompanies and follows conflict got a little lost in the flashbacks and Mrs Stuffy found it necessary to grab a little nap throughout the mid section. So, two fluffy pillows on the Mrs S tediumometer and a recommendation from me of "not bad, catch it on Sky when it turns up"
Haiku time ?
Why not
Stare at the screen, stare
at the men, who stare at goats
and chuckle, or doze
The festive season starts here
Just made my first Mince pie of the season, and it's a biggie, had some puff pastry to use up, lattice cutter for the crust, mixed slightly caramelized eating apples (sugar and a dash of Calvados) with rich mincemeat, worked well,good feedback.
into the recipe book with that one...
The day after Bonfire night and I'm a fun guy - Sorry
Nine different varieties of eukaryotic organism discovered in the wood this morning, if there are no further posts would someone call Antonio Carluccio and tell him his book is wrong,
Thank you
Good news, parasols, wood blewits and amethyst deceivers, all good eating, might be a couple of others but they fall into the "just not quite sure enough" category.
Movie review - UP - finally, a kids movie for grumpy old men
I was looking forward to this latest Disney/Pixar animated tale and I'm delighted to say my anticipation was justified. It's quite usual these days for such movies to aim at multiple levels, knockabout fun and games for the kids and grown-up story elements, in-jokes and adult references for mum and dad.
I wasn't surprised to hear young voices expressing confusion around the cinema in the first 20 minutes, a beautifully structured account of the lives, love, joys and disappointments of our protagonist Carl and his departed love, Ellie. It's not the first time I've been moved by an animated film, (Wall-E was beautiful in parts and there's a scene in Cars, no, don't get me started, damn, I'm welling up just writing this...) .... anyway ... this was a very lovely piece of cinema.
The film moves back into junior territory as the balloons burst from the chimney and there is real beau
ty as the house takes to the sky and the tale unfolds, great human and animal characters (the dogs as house staff were very neatly done), it's a continual visual joy and despite the more frantic pace of the latter stages enough senior moments to keep mum and dad as involved as the young 'uns. I was particularly amused by the fight between the two old men punctuated by moments of simultaneous arthritic paralysis.
It's not just a very fine animated film, It's a very fine film, clever, moving and beautiful. If you can find a handy kid, grab them and go see it, if you can't find a kid, go anyway, you'll love it.
The Haiku was hard
multi coloured tale
gleeful and thoughtful, truly
a moving picture
Medical update ........................ there's more dirty work afoot
So after two weeks of crutch-work, limping, cursing and hobbling I was summoned to see the surgeon for an extended session of tutting and sharp in-taking of breath. "Did you get the wound wet at all?" he asked. Gentle reader here's the rub,I'd not had a bath for about 3 years, I'm a two-shower-a-day-man and after ten days of occasionally lying in a bath with an outrigger foot I'd got to the end of my tether, so, the cunning application of two layers of plastic carrier bag and prodigious amounts of duct tape (not sure why you ladies spend so much on Veet when duct tape is so cheap by the way) and I was able to take my first proper shower.
I stepped out, scrubbed, refreshed, smelling pleasantly of tea-tree, spearmint and lime and with about two litres of water trapped in the bags around my "never,ever get this wet" dressing.
Anyway sent off with a flea in my ear (apparently some form of homeopathy) and a course of antibiotics.
It's now Friday the 9th, nearly a month into my 2 week recuperation period and I'm hoping to be signed off on Wednesday next to start taking exercise again, I've never enjoyed exercise but I certainly miss it when I can't do it.
Here's hopping, sorry, hoping.
Movie review => District 9 ... and it turns out I've an allergy to analogy
Apologies, gentle reader, I've been a little tardy in posting my response to this movie and I suspect that is partly because I was not sure about it, not whether I liked it, I didn't really, but more
about whether it was a good movie.
It has that trendy hand-held faux documentary look to it, it sets up the situation well and it tells the story well, albeit with a heavy hand on the yuck! button. The yuckiness and the motion-sickness-inducing camera effect made Mrs S less than comfortable but for me it was the vast number of gaps, holes, inconsistencies, illogicality's and implausibilities that the film generated.
I've a resistance to being forcibly subjected to continual beating with the analogy stick and the combination of that and the repeated reliance on "just accept it" stretched my ability to allow the film makers license well past my tolerance point.
It's a clear case of 'emperors new clothes' for me and I found the emperor to be skinny, lacking in substance and generally unappealing once the (admitted) finery of CGI was stripped away.
There's mischief afoot .....................................................
There is a tiny nerve that takes messages from your toes and rushes them to your brain for processing. That's in your foot, in my left foot apparently the nerve is some 14 times bigger than it should be, this means one thing and one thing only PAIN!!!!
There is a school of thought (informed medical opinion) that attributes this condition (Morton's Neuroma by name) to my fondness for toe-deforming Oliver Sweeney footwear or possibly cheap cycling shoes but whatever the cause the diagnosis was clear, slice, dice and hobble for a fortnight.
I've gone through repeated consultancy sessions, an MRI (and that's a lot less fun if you've ever watched an episode of House) and protracted negotiations with BUPA insurance (known to medical professionals apparently as, those bloody idiots) So with a song on my lips it was off to the deepest Hampshire countryside for the scheduled operation.
Going without food or water on the morning following Sophie's birthday lunch was an inspired idea, after all nobody ever got a hangover from eating prodigious amounts of chili washed down by prodigiouser amounts of alcohol. Arrived at the crack of lark rise I was shown to my lovely room, nothing to do but surreptitiously twitter and read the hospital mission statement. I'd just finished the bit about how strongly they felt about maintaining my dignity when my Angel of Mercy returned with a skimpy arse-exposing backless gown and my lovely surgical stockings. The hobble to the operating theatre in my one-size-doesn't-really-fit-all fluffy slippers was a little surreal as the nursing, cleaning and indeed catering staff gathered and tried to stifle barely concealed gasps of lust (or, just possibly, the effort of wresting with the conflicting emotions of hysterical laughter, tinged with pity) inspired by my shamble through their brightly lit corridors.
Once in the ki
lling zone, all was affable efficiency, only my second time under anesthetic but still very disturbing to a recumbent control freak to wake and find out just how much can happen to you in 30 minutes under the gas, with no record in ones consciousness, it's so quick to take one out of the world and so disorientating to come around and find oneself plugged back into the matrix and all apparently (superficially) normal.
This may explain my lifelong avoidance (mostly:) of recreational drugs, I can't think of anything less likely to make me feel good than a horse tranquilizer. I'm writing this now having been fed and watered and waiting for the physio to come and teach me the joy of crutch-based mobility. Then it's home for a few days recuperation, fortunately I've a comprehensive admin, legal, financial and editorial to-do list so it's a week of mac-based work ahead.
Likely posts might include:
- I'm so bored
- Off come the bandages Yeuuuch!
- How does a two-shower a day man cope with an ablution ban?
- on-line shopping, even more addictive when it's the only option?
and last but by no means least,
- Oh my (insert your chosen deity or profanity here) look at that scar !
An endorsement, which may well be retracted if convalescence proves traumatic, Spire park hospital and staff.
Celebration, Jubilation, Photos and fun...
Sophie and her cousin Charlie celebrated their joint 21st with a party at the end of August, along with a couple of hundred of their friends, exceptionally stunning young ladies and far too skinny young men with silly hair.
I did my verybest to make Sophie and Mrs Stuffy proud and blend in by wearing my slimmingest suit and a frankly inappropriate amount of hair gel.
It was a fun evening and I observed that the attendees fell mostly into one of three groups:-
- Young, comfortable with immense noise , inside with the disco. "I've a theory that the increasing tendency of the young to communicate through thumbs and text may be an evolutionary response to DJ -induced deafness"
- Older, incompatible with 120decibels, outside in the marquee.
- "I'm having a fag"mostly young, fit-looking lads and lasses along with occasional examples of "this is what you'll look like if you don't stop soon", out in the "fresh air".
Best find of the night was the
'Groovy photo booth' This is the rent-able digital offspring of the old Photo-me
and a compulsive draw to all as can be seen by from the little collation available by clicking on the image.
Mrs Stuffy has oft observed that at most social functions I
(as a classic introvert) tend to stand around behind her looking cross, this time however I was much more "
he's in the queue for the photo booth again, with yet more glamorous assistants!"
and why not ?
Sun Sea, Sand, Surf .... The Stuffys sample Sugar Hill
Mr and Mrs Stuffy and ChaCha (now a fully fledged member of the Jetski appreciation society) are back from an internet-free but joyful week in sunny Barbados, staying with exceedingly hospitable friends, (many, many thanks to Sally and Martin) and enjoying some lovely beaches, great diving and superb food both from our delightful hosts and a couple of very impressive restaurants.
Lone Star, languo
rous dining in a beach-side setting, great food, relaxed service and a meal which went on well past nightfall.
Click on the picture for some nice holiday shots.
The Cliff is reputedly the best restaurant on the island, fine food in a dramatic and stunning location, fine wines and a dramatic and stunning bill, an experience to savour, (possibly once).
I enjoyed some really great diving over a couple of days, courtesy of West Side Scuba, I'd heartily recommend Peter, Gee and Captain Dave to anyone looking for a really good dive operation, they were great fun, delivered lots of laughs and initiated me into the the perils and pleasures of wreck penetration, diving through a torpedo hole, experiencing air pockets many metres down on classic dives in Carlyle Bay and the Stavronikitas, exploring an engine room encrusted in coral, negotiating spiral staircases and never, never ever, not for a moment, forgetting the massive moray from The Deep.
Click on the portly neoprene clad chap above for a few photos from the diving.
We're back now, we've had a great break, had a superb time, met some lovely people (and experienced the terrible consequences of failing to advise Lloyds Bank of our travel plans). We're relaxed, refreshed, invigorated and enjoying the real world with a spring in our steps and a song on our lips and, gentle reader, we've missed you.
A record of high achievement
Craggy Island is a company running a couple of indoor climbing centres, Charlie and I have been climbing at the Guildford one for a year or two, well, because of the multi-kilo difference in our weights and her relative inexperience, she has been climbing and I've been the heavy thing belaying at the other end of the rope preventing her falling to the floor with a sickening thud. So, her skill and fitness has increased whilst my (already meagre) scaling skills have stagnated.
That's all going to change now, at 14 years of age she became eligible to be tested for technical competency, if successful she'd be allowed to climb and belay unsupervised, (albeit tethered to a very large sandbag when trying to keep her portly papa from plummeting to the pavement.
I'm delighted to report that she passed the hour-long exam with flying colours and I'll just point out that included restraining 95 kilos of father repeatedly throwing himself bodily off a 30 foot drop with all the suicidal passion of a lemming on a bungee, a true test of parental trust.
Well done ChaCha
I should be so clucky, clucky, clucky, clucky.
I've been reminded by my legions of fans that I've not updated those of you with a penchant for poultry about the tragic demise of one of our flock.
Only joking, they're all fine but I know how journalism works, nobody wants to read about everything going well.
So, having alienated my audience here's the scoop. You will recall, Oh best beloveds, how the latest recruit to the Oak Wood Eggery, the ill-named Chocolate Thunder was taken into the flock following the tragic slaughter of her coop-mates. She was initially very henpecked and lost a big chunk of thin feathers on the back of the neck, (very exposed when feeding) however as time passed, Choclit (abbreviated from her original pedigree nomenclature) has recovered both confidence and plumage and gradually worked her way up to nearly equal footing with Dolly the other ginger nut in our little peckery.
This has, naturally, resulted in a reversion to subordinate roles for Cassie (dense black chicken) and Jessie (very stupid white chicken) but since the level of inter-avian violence has diminished overall they seem to be taking it in good stead.
An average day now generates little aggression, either 3 or 4 eggs and loads of poo. The new girl does have a penchant for stretching her legs and led the girls jogging off through the wood the other day during exercise, (the warders were apparently distracted by a staged stabbing in the showers). The plucky escapees were eventually discovered in the stables where they'd cornered 3 horses and an Alektorophobiac groom.
Further feathery fun is sure to follow ...
Labels: Oakwood chickens Stuffy Barn
Movie review - Harry Potter and the bloody half-prince
Mrs Stuffy informs me that the reason I'm less than enamoured with this latest Potter fable is that I'm "not a fan", she is, unusually, wrong. I enjoyed the first couple of books, I loved the first couple of films, I just feel I'm suffering from repetitive wand syndrome, it's a little bit too much more of the same.
In the first few films I enjoyed the original and stunning mix of architecture, graphics and landscape around Hogwarts, I was gripped by dragons, enthused by the realisation of Quidditch and delighted by the way the whole arcane magical boarding school concept was pictured on screen.
Nowadays, not so
much.
There's a real focus on the relationship element and frankly teen angst is just teen angst and the addition of cloaks and broomsticks makes it no less irritating and silly to those who've been there ourselves and subsequently "enjoyed" the experience with our own little darlings.
So, too much snogging, too much setting things up for the next movie, insipid baddies, the relentless similarity of each story to it's forebears which meant that I kept encountering characters I believed had already been extinguished or immolated.
All in all, for me, it was, at best, OK, for Mrs Stuffy (who is you will remember a fan), an enjoyable experience and a welcome chance to contribute again to the Rowling pension fund.
A sorcerous haiku ?
The Hogwarts Rowling express,
Acne and anguish afflict
Potter pabulum.
Another 3D experience - Movie Review - Ice Age 3
I was dragged kicking and screaming into the first Ice Age movie, I was still kicking and screaming when I left but only because I wanted to watch it all over again.
The second of the series was also delightful, larded with quite subtle and sophisticated humour to keep the elderly entertained. I'm delighted to report that Ice Age 3 has broken little new ground, doing pretty much what the predecessors did and doing it very well.
The graphics delight, the characterisation is consistent and engaging, the writing sharp and the jokes, visual and verbal are a treasure trove for reference spotters and movie buffs. It's a great film for little ones (we took three, ranging from tiny to middling) and a very good film for big ones.
One thing troubles me, (actually, many things trouble me but I'll spare you the details) Anyway, in the context of this movie one thing troubles me, I was pretty impressed by the strides the 3D technology had taken when I looked through the specs a year ago but I've since enjoyed Bolt, Coraline and this offering through the magic lenses and I'm by no means convinced that those three very good movies were much enhanced by the 3D aspect. We'll see if "Up", (which has a great trailer) can convince me.
An antediluvian haiku
Engaging and fun
dinosaurs versus mammals
the film makers won
Movie Review - Public Enemies ...
Here's the thing, Mrs Stuffy thinks that Johnny Depp walks on water and I admire the virtuosity of director Michael Mann so you'd think that we'd be on a surefire winner toddling along to the megaplex to watch this romanticised version of the pursuit and termination of John Dillinger, (sorry if that spoils it for anyone expecting a happy ending).
I'd read that it was shot using hand-held cameras and digital (rather than film) high definition and every shaky but beautifully multi-faceted snowflake, the individual pores of the skin of the cast, every beautifully captured colour of hat, sheen of rain on sleek shiny coachwork, all speak volumes for the technical skills and the technology involved.
The acting is beyond reproach, I rate Johnny Depp, I think Christian Bale is good at the acting thing, Mlle Cotillard is super but here's the problem. It's dull, really dull, tedious, confusing, poorly structured and I didn't really care what happened to anyone (even though it was always very obvious what was going to happen next). Dull, dull, dull, not quite dull enough to send Mrs S off to Slumberland but it was a very close run thing.
Hard to come up with a haiku without using the word dull but here goes...
Technically hot but
lukewarm Bonny and Clyde tale
thug and moll, sadly fail
High drama at the Barn, plucky feathered survivor joins the Woodland Eggery
Chums from a neighbouring village joined us for a little supper recently and during the conversation mentioned a moonlit raid on their chicken coop. The suspect, possibly something stoatish, left but one survivor, "Dead Hen Squawking" amid a scene of poultry carnage.
Well, one bottle led to another, and another and another and before I knew it I'd offered to bring the bereft hen into our little flock. Before the hangover had faded "Chocolate Thunder" was introduced to Jessie, Cassie and Dollie, cultural mismatch seemed inevitable.
Our three hens, already proven to be very stupid now showed their very unkind side making the bereaved newcomer as welcome as a Mexican pig in outpatients.
Matters wer
en't improved, for me at least, when, displaying many of the attributes of a feathery Steve McQueen, the new girl made a break for it and engaged me in a forty minute game of hide and beak as she avoided capture. Luckily carnivore cunning won out and a momentary lapse of attention allowed the supreme hunter gatherer to grab her scrawny neck (not the approved method of chicken wrangling). It was very nearly a "one for the pot" moment but she's obviously tougher than she appears and surviving involuntary throttling, was restored to the run and the (frankly brutal) ministrations of her sisters-in-lay.
Hopefully she'll make peace with the other inmates and settle in, I hope so but I've a suspicion that one more attempted escape might result in her being, as the poultry mafiosa so quaintly term it "being left to play wid de foxes".
London to Brighton - A heartfelt thank you
Thank you to all those who sponsored me in the London to Brighton Bike Ride on Sunday. It was a lovely day, a super ride and between us Graham and I raised over £1,500 for the British Heart Foundation.
It took me a mere 5 hours of blood, sweat and cursing to cover the 54 miles, stopping for nothing but the 4 or 5 places where sheer weight of cyclists made trudging inescapable, my moving average was nigh on 15 mph so I was pretty chuffed with that.
It should be noted that Graham had time for a sandwich, a drink, a full body massage and a quick flick through the Sunday papers before I Hove :) into view in Brighton.
Special thanks to Graham, for talking me into it, to Vicky and Craig for transport and to Jim and Richard for their invaluable coaching and encouragement.
It was a great way to spend Fathers Day and I really appreciate all those of you who put your hands in your pockets to make a difference.
Heart and circulatory disease is the number one killer in the UK and whilst trying very, very hard to get up Ditchling Beacon under pedal power I felt very close to the cause.
If you'd still like to contribute, please feel free to click here
Thanks again
Movie Review - The Hangover........................ yes, of course there's a haiku !!!
There are, oh my gentle readers, some films where, having seen the trailer, you find yourself thinking, "th
at's probably all the good bits mashed together to entice us to part with our hard earned pennies".
I confess I had The Hangover pegged as one of those films, superficial laddish toilet humour with a couple of good gags, telegraphed remorselessly in the ads and the trailers. However, encouraged by an enthusiastic review in the FT (ooh get him! film reviews in the Financial Times forsooth!) Mrs Stuffy and I gave it a chance, and I'm so glad we did.
A very funny, constantly surprising movie, great acting from a largely unknown but ever-so-well-casted cast, good writing and a cleverly directed story.
Despite appearances and marketing it's not just a boy's flick, Mrs Stuffy laughed out loud, the first time in a cinema, she assures me, since Life of Brian.
Me? I chuckled, quite a lot.
As Basho might have said...
Unexpected fun
This film is one, long, chuckle...
surprises abound
A request for your support ...
I've just been emailed by the British Heart foundation to tell me that I'v
e picked up a late place for the London to Brighton Charity ride in two weeks, apparently someone came to their senses and wimped out so I get to take their place.
The more folk who sponsor me the harder it will be for me to make excuses so I'd appreciate it if you could find it in your hearts to ...
Click here ---> to Sponsor me
Thanks a million (or however much you can afford)
Movie Review - A 3D walk in a very odd world - Coraline
I've long been a fan of Neil Gaiman (@Neilhimself for the twitterers amongst you) who wrote Coraline and of Henry Selick (who directed the Nightmare before Christmas) so it was with a joyful spring in my step that I, Mrs Stuffy, ChaCHa and Tatty toddled off on the hottest day of the year to sit in the air conditioned dark and enjoy Coraline 3D.
Bowing (as always) to Mr's Stuffy's bullying I'd not only taken the hit of a couple of quid extra per ticket for the 3D experience but she also cajoled me into an extra six of your English pounds to sit in the "superior seating" (colloquially, fat folk seats). This was a pointless expense in my humble opinion, skinny as they are Tatty and ChaCha could fit comfortably into one of the standard seats in the Vue at Camberley and still have room for all their popcorn, drinks,sweets and probably Mrs Stuffy as well. Hey ho, £48 out of pocket before they'd even hit the pic'n'mix like a swarm of sugar seeking locusts, but enough of my parsimony, on with the show.
Opinion, as so often, was divided, I loved the look and feel, the colours and action, the delightful details, the jumping mice, the constant need to shift gear, finding yourself accepting the weird and wondrous world on the screen and adjusting to it's rules.
Mrs Stuffy, (to select another opinion at random) found it visually attractive and very clever but not one to rush to see again. The girls found themselves, (I was going to say very,very scared but I've been corrected) "seriously disturbed and weirded out". either way, not one for the teeny weenies.
There were a few strong messages that came through, notably, parenting is tough,
if it looks too good to be true it probably is,
kids have lives too and
cats are the very best thing to have on your side when it gets seriously weird.
a tricksy one to haiku but ...
Henry, Neil create
spindly, spooky, spiky state
a web of beauty
The Lake District, a beautiful place but .
Mrs Stuffy is a black belt in the arranging of short breaks, brief respites to boldly go, to discover strange new lands and cultures ... you get the idea. She has, in the past, scored notable success with the delightful Riad Meriem in Marrakech and the superb Bourgondich Cruyces in Bruges.
Imagine my joy then, on receiving, for my recent birthday, a pair of hiking boots and a couple of days accommodation (with my lovely spouse) a rambling break in the Lake District, an area I'm pretty fond of, resulting from a childhood passion for the works of Arthur Ransome and from my climbing days when, living in Yorkshire, it was easy-peasy to pop across the Pennines with Mountain-Mate-Mike and scare ourselves nigh to death on the lovely Cumbrian crags (as opposed to scaring ourselves nigh to death on more familiar Yorkshire crags).
Our drive up was only marred by
- the need for every inbred bottom feeder in creation to sit in the middle lane of the M3,M25,M40,M42 and M6 having a fag, sending a text and discussing Coronation Street with their ugly halfwit passengers
- Knutsford
- a large chunk of the M6 disappearing into a hole and being replaced by all the cones in the world
Still, we eventually got to Windermere and the
Hillthwaite House Hotel, billed on t'interweb as overlooking
the lake, which it did, in much the same way that The Great Wall of China is overlooked from space. There was a definite hint of Fawlty Towers about our lodging, faded 60's decor, elderly clientele and staffed entirely by well meaning and enthusiastic East European teenagers with no evident catering experience.
We arrived, thanks to the Great British Transport Infrastructure only 2 hours later than we planned so a quick grimace, a G&T and we were whisked into the dining room.
Dinner, (included in the not inconsiderable price) was a 5 course affair best summarised as beautifully presented blandness. Someone, possibly the Head Chef,"award winning John Kelly" or one of his brigade of highly skilled drizzlers of jus and coulis had a good eye for a stack of raspberries but it appeared that, tragically, no-one in the kitchen had a taste bud. Mrs Stuffy's "Goat cheese on Mediterranean couscous with new potatoes and carrots" still causes her to leap up in the night weeping with the sheer beige horror of it all.
We retired to bed, it wasn't the least comfortable bed I've ever slept in, it was pretty close though.
Up and at 'em the next morning. The bathroom was, evidently, recently refurbished and all the fixture a
nd fittings were new and of a very reasonable quality, sadly the water pressure was such that I effectively put in a 5 mile run jogging around the rink-like surface in an attempt to catch enough precious but desperately scarce water to get wet enough to ablute.
I got off lightly, Mrs S still bears the technicolor bruises caused by a reckless attempt to walk across the slightly moist tiles to open the bedroom door. She's a little prone to opening hotel doors in a state of undress, I'm in favour of it, saves tipping and the staff always seem to enjoy it.
Breakfast was a revelation, whoever does the breakfast should be put on the evening shift at once, great ingredients, well cooked and delicious. Refreshed, reinvigorated and fortified we donned our new hiking boots and set off for the first leg of our trek, from the hotel to Lake Windermere.
To be honest, once we'd got that far we'd pretty much broken the back of it and the next few hours passed in a cordial blur of boat, trek, beer, boat,trek, ice cream (30p for a flake !) trek,beer, yomp, boat and the fruitless search for a pleasant pub or restaurant.
Windermere, Bowness and Ambleside all seemed to be a little bit "lowest common denominator touristy" if you know what I mean, and if you don't then I heartily recommend that you take a weekend at the Hillthwaite Hotel, you'll love it.
Me, I'd rather gouge my own eyes out with a spoon,
a blunt one.
Signs of the times.====================== whatever are they thinking ?
Driving through the delightful lush tropical paradise that is Bracknell today I spotted a couple of high-visibility jacketed gents strimming the verge, that made sense, grass grows, men from the council come along with mowers on a regular basis and cut it down.
Simple's yes ?
No, I was taken aback to see that the van belonging to these fluorescent green-fingered civil servants was boldly labelled " Incident response vehicle"
Which raise the obvious questions:-
- If grass growing qualifies as an incident, what the heck doesn't? and
- Who reported it ?
Movie review - Boldly going where many have boldly gone, boldly ...
It's a little known fact that Mrs Stuffy is a bit of a trekkie, not in a sad dressing-up way, but she is a fan and thanks to her astounding memory will happily watch the same episodes over and over again. I also have to admit to a certain affection for the franchise (in all it's incarnations) so it was with high hopes that we transported ourselves to the moving picture palace.
The new Star Trek movie is directed by JJ Abrams director of Lost, (Mrs S and I hold diametrically opposing views on Lost, she thinks it's great). The Star Trek movie is, let's be honest, a delight, a fast furious (not entirely logical) special effects roller-coaster interleaved with some fine acting, (also some less fine acting but Leonard Nimoy is 167).
Particularly impressive were the Spock and McCoy characters, they've really nailed the mannerisms and mindset of the originals and that, along with some super set design made it work as a believable prequel. (obviously I don't literally mean believable, you know what i mean)
There's just enough humour, plot and characterisation to to stop it being purely a special effects extravaganza but make no mistake it is a special effects extravaganza, we liked it a lot !
And a haiku version ...
Ten series and films
but this makes me say, "Star Trek
live long and prosper"
would you like that in Klingon ? of course you would ...
wa'maH series je films
ach vam chen jIH jatlh Hov Trek
yIn tIq je chep
Movie Review ... State of Play
A visit to the magical moving picture emporium to enjoy this remake of a BBC production (which I've not seen, for television is the devil's own idiot box and will suck out your immortal soul with it's drivel and mind numbing soporific apologies for entertainment, oooooh that's better).
Anyway, sound acting, as ever, from 
Russel Crowe (who has apparently been filming locally and done nothing to diminish his arrogant git reputation), but the boy can act and that's his job.
Unlike Ben Affleck. I've no idea why Ben Affleck gets work, he's the movie equivalent of tofu, bland, unsatisfying and pointless.
Mrs Stuffy liked Helen Mirren's sweary editor but the rest of the cast seemed to have been coached by Affleck in advanced drabness. The story is very twisty and requires attention, it's well told but I was interested, not involved and we lost Mrs Stuffy to the arms of Morpheus a couple of time s in the last 20 minutes.
Still, a haiku review might look a little like this...
State of play
Makes one think and doubt
Working the connections out
passionless puzzle.
Yet more flippin poultry related drivel ...
Sorry to keep blathering on about the newest arrivals at the barn but I promised ChaCha I'd post this.
One of our three hens (now named, see the photo for the nom(h)enclature) h
as been laying increasingly larger eggs for a week now, yesterday it became evident that one of her sisters had joined the productive workforce with her own teeny weeny offering, I'm thinking a little salad with a lightly boiled egg is called for, Oh the gourmet joys of the gentleman poulterer.
My initial intent was, you may recall, to be able to produce perfectly poached eggs and I have to say that the freshness does indeed make all the difference. In other news I observed a fox sitting outside the run with a cunning expression on his face yesterday. (To be fair, in his defence, that expression does really come with the face, ... if you're a fox)
Labels: oakwood chickens eggs Stuffy
Chicken update ....
They all laughed when I said we could be self sufficient in eggs but, great news, here we are, after only three weeks, a small fortune spent on accommodation, chickens, food, medicines, accessories and with a compost bin full of poo and it's already starting to pay off.
We have an egg!,
tiny, perfectly formed and delicious.
PS:- and the stupid black one is now officially named "Cassie", thanks Rhett.
Now I be officially a farmer... so get off moi laaaaand
Amongst the many wonderful things with which I was blessed on my recent Birthday was a huge cardboard box containing an Eglu and chicken run. I've long harboured a desire to join the poultry keeping
classes (mostly driven by a realisation that the road to perfect poaching is a very fresh egg).
My lovely in-laws therefore decided to make it happen and Good Friday saw Mrs Stuffy and myself selecting three pullets from hundreds of identical birds and transporting them to their new home. We selected three different breeds, there's a real need for muticulturalism in Surrey and it does make them easier to tell apart having them colour coded.
Naming is officially on hold since Mrs S promised Rhett (Currently away on business in the Caribbean) that he will get to choose and name the first one but they seem to be bearing up under the strain of anonymity and are affectionally known as the stupid white one, the stupid black one and the stupid brown one. By the way, they're 
not bright.
So far they've appeared to settle in well. Despite sharing the wood with the incumbent family of foxes, (3 new cubs) my strict regime (defined by repeated viewings of Shawshank) of supervised exercise and an enforced dusk lock-down along with the cunning design of their polycarbonate coop has resulted in happy chucks and vulpine disappointment.
The design of the coop is really very clever and makes it easy to collect and compost the prodigious amounts of poo they produce pretty much constantly.
Guano is the only output so far, I'm assured that eggs will arrive soon, to encourage this I've pinned a recipe for coq au vin up in the run, "p0ur encourager les ouefs"
A taste of the 50s ..
There can be few experiences as downright unpleasant as stopping to eat or drink at a motorway or trunk road service area (Heston Blumenthal's A303 Little Chef experiment is, I'm assured, an exception). 
Whilst making my regular cross-country treks taking ChaCha from paternal to maternal custody I've been tempted, (but never succumbed) by the retro attractions of Nelsons, an American style diner at Kingsclere on the A339 twixt Basingstoke and Newbury. Recently ChaCha and I, both peckish and with time to kill decided to check it out.
There's something deeply attractive for me, (a huge fan of American Graffiti and Happy Days) in the deep red of the leatherette booths, the pastel blues and pinks, the jukebox soundtrack and the idea of pulling up in a white
T'bird and ordering a $5 shake.
The experience at Nelsons didn't really stack up to my dreams, (how could it?) but it was kitsch retro fun, good food, well and visibly cooked, smiles with the service and a really pleasant alternative to the drab conglomerate ubiquitous corporate pitstop.
It must be tough to make a living out of somewhere like Nelson's Diner, it's been through 4 incarnations since I first noticed it and I suspect that reflects ownership. If you get the chance to break a journey there I'd recommend it.
Labels: Stuffy Oakwood Nelson's Diner
Watching the watchmen................................ Movie Review
It's fair to say that Mrs Stuffy did not share my enthusiasm for sitting through 3 hours of dystopian Sci Fi, based on a comic (I refuse to play the "graphic novel" card, it's a comic!).
The first few bone-crunching minutes did little to reassure her but, as the tale unfolded both of us were neatly lassoed and drawn into the very human world of the Watchmen. It's a tough tale to tell and the story skips around in time and place like a time-travelling skippy thing but despite this and (contrary to the opinions of some other reviewers) we had no problem keeping on track, and intrigued.
I was astounded by the visual impact, (shades of Blade Runner in the city-scapes) and captivated by the dialogue, particularly the Rorshach segments, painfully well played by Jackie Earle Haley (with echoes of Bogart's Phillip Marlowe, or Marv in Sin City).
The acting was good throughout and occasionally great, Billy Crudup deserves a mention as does the aforementioned Jackie Earle Haley who, on losing his mask, turned in a compelling performance. I loved the cruel humour of the prison scenes, the sheer imagination and beauty of the CGI on Mars, the wit and twists of the montage showing how history moved away from our own familiar timeline.
It's a hell of a story, beautifully told with a sad inevitability about it's resolution. I understand that the author, Alan Moore, has distanced himself from the film, that's a shame, based on our reaction it's his loss.
I commend it to your eyes and minds.
Would you like a haiku?
A tale for dark times
Sweeping, brave and intense
black, bloody and bold
Labels: Films haiku Stuffy critic, Oakwood, Watchmen
A fine example of growing old gracefully, Clint Eastwood does it again
Clinton Eastwood Jr is now 79 years old and based on Gran Torino is still right at the top of his game. This 
is a well-crafted film, Clint's iconic performance is compelling and thought provoking, the supporting cast, mostly unknown to me, play it perfectly, Thao vang lor in particular shines.
I'm not sure why I found myself identifying so strongly with a misanthropic old bloke with an aptitude for self-righteous violence but I enjoyed it muchly. It's a moving film, it made me laugh and it made me think. It's rumoured that this is Clint's last film, if so he's taking his final bow to a very well deserved standing ovation, (and a tear or two from Mrs S)
A Haiku you say ?
oh very well
The man with no name
has made a film with no flaws
sweet, sour, tour de force
NB: For the benefit of Angelica who does pick me up on the occasional discrepancy with the syllable count in these efforts, I should perhaps explain that I compose them in Japanese then translate the Kanji into English, my apologies for any errors, for Angelica's delectation here's the original.
名前無しの人 欠
陥の甘く酸っぱい離れ業無
しでフィルムを作った
Signs of the times - on understanding the customer
I spotted this the ot
her day, methinks someone needs a little help in understanding either the meaning of the word loyalty or the meaning of the word customer.
Yes, it was in a Costa Coffee outlet.
...
Movie review ....... will she? won't she? did he? should she? Woody - Vicky Cristina Barcelona
There are times, admittedly few, when even a simplistic chap like myself desires a little more from the movie experience than gratuitous nudity, spectacular stunts, more gratuitous nudity and pic'n
'mix.
I found myself delighted by this film, a subtle and intelligent movie which will surprise anyone who thinks that Woody Allen has forgotten how to write superb dialogue and direct clever films.
I've been to Barcelona, it was beautifully portrayed, and I fell in love with it all over again.
As the male lead, Javier Bardem was just right and his three leading ladies beautiful, perfectly cast, well acted and intriguing. It's a rare joy to sit, smiling, occasionally chuckling and find that for once Mrs Stuffy and I are as one.
A must see.
Would you like the haiku ?
Captivating tale
Woody reminds us why we
once thought him so good
There'll be Bluebird over ...
The Bluebird, a restaurant created in an art-deco racing garage in that there London's trendy Kings Road, an iconic Conran creation as I recall. You'd expect this to be an ideal Stuffy venue, fine food and wines, in an historic building for me and for herself, a plethora of bijou boutiques and purveyors of expensive clothes. We were the guests of chef and cycling chum Winston and the lovely Anna, keen to check out the offerings from the Bluebird chef Mark Block.
It's an attractive building in a super location, albeit, as I breathlessly discovered, a fair old hike from Sloane Square tube. The building is now a curious mix of late sixties furnishings (rarely a good idea) in an Art deco building. Opinion was divided, much to my surprise I thought it worked well, howsoever, as no-one agreed with me we must assume that once again my sense of style is something I fondly imagine that I possess rather than a real thing.
The food? well, the food was very well cooked, very nicely presented and very pleasant, but, (you knew that was coming didn't you) for me it didn't quite get to where it wanted to be, it was just missing a little extra something, the flair, the tang, the secret ingredient. ( In fairness it should be noted that Mrs Stuffy was so delighted with her blood-orange jelly that I spent the next three evenings, skinning citrus and squelching gelatine until I was able to replicate it at a dinner for her school chums).
All in all a very pleasant place for a relaxed supper with good friends, groovy place, nice unobjectionable food, great service.
An agreeable blast from the past and worth a visit.
Labels: Stuffy oakwood bluebird "mark block"
21st Century 3D movies, it's like a Bolt from the red and green ...
It's been a long while since I saw a 3D film (with the exception of the "in your face' experiences at assorted Disney resorts in LA, Florida and Paris).
My last cinematic recollection was "Spacehunter-adventures in the forbidden zone " back in '83 which still makes 
me extremely nervous when anyone suggests flying through an asteroid field.
The headache caused by that film has finally subsided so it seemed appropriate to take Rhett and Mrs Stuffy and see what the technology can do now. The answer is that the technology has come a long way and now works very well but I was more impressed by the use of it in the trailers for forthcoming attractions than in the main feature itself.
The 3D in Bolt is used in a very understated way. It's possibly too subtle, I felt that the film really needed something a little more over the top. It's an OK film, don't get me wrong, Rhett enjoyed it and CHaCHa thinks it's great but after the initial frenzied 10 minutes it became very predictable.I didn't feel particularly involved (although I did quite like the pigeons).
I fnd myself looking forward to the upcoming Coraline, (Neil Gaiman's writing and a surreal world that looks like it's perfect for 3D silliness), Ice-age3 (1 and 2 were superb) and Monsters v Aliens (Not sure about that one).
I know what you're thinking, "that's all fine and dandy chum but where's the Haiku?"
Here
Incredible Journey
for three D cartoon critters
this one wonders why?
A sadness
My apologies gentle readers for the lack of posting, it's been a weird couple of weeks, and I debated the value of sharing this with you, but, you're all (barring the occasional wandering blog tourist) people I know and care about, so indulge me if you will.
A friend of mine chose to end his days a couple of weeks ago, I was going to say an old friend but tragically he was five years my junior, a lovely man full of laughs, full of life, full of energy. I'm at a loss. The funeral service was astonishing, so many people, standing room only, I couldn't help wondering, if he could have seen all the people who cared for him, in one place, at one time, of one mind then maybe ...
So, indulge me in this rare moment of seriousness. if there are people in your life who matter to you, take a moment, let them know.
Thanks.
The blog continues
Forthcoming attractions-watch this space
Movie reviews - Bolt 3D and Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Restaurant opinions - Bluebird in the Kings Road
Winter wonderlandy
As the country grinds to a halt and the UK infrastructure collapses under one of the less typical symptoms of global warming the barn is wrapped in snowy loveliness.
The fire is lit and the coffee machine is primed and perky, today I shall mostly be working from home.
Slumdog Millionaire, the definitive haiku movie review
It's been a little while my loyal army of blogees, my apologies. It appears that our political Laurel and Hardy, (Messrs Darling and Brown) have decided to pay banks for incompetence which means sadly that I've had to do lots of work to generate the tax income to fund this farcical exercise.
However it's not all bad news
Slumdog Millionaire, the definitive haiku movie review .
From rags to riches ?
a tale told, so very well
I'm lost, for once, for ...
Labels: Films haiku Stuffy critic, slumdog
A happy new year to all my readers .
A splendid (and thanks to the strength of the Euro vis-a-vis the pound, nice one Gordon and Alistair, hardly horrendously expensive at all) break in Val D'Isere for family Stuffy over the new year has set me up for a splendid kick off to 2009, encouraged by the general air of optimism and well-being I find as I peruse the media and chat with the shakers and movers of our booming economy.
Sadly it's not all cheer and positivity, one of my most forthright and erudite critics, let's call her Angelica (for that is one of the many things I call her) has taken me to task over my glowing haiku review of Wall-E. She was, she assures me so irritated by the movie that she spent a large part of it composing a Haiku rebuttal of my praise. In the interests of balance and free expression I'm delighted to share her thoughts with you.
This Disney movie
Is pure Green propaganda
Brainwashing by stealth
copyright Angelica 2009
Hey kids, don't take the word of two emotionally-opposed, pedantic, smart-ass, cynics for it, go see it, and judge for yourselves.
The Christmas traditions ............... No 1 ............... Trial by Ice
Robert Frost wrote
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
And ice can be an awesome thing to behold, especially when it's under an inch or two of torrential rainwater and littered with the wobbling, unstoppable carnage of 50 or so of West London's finest flashing blades...
Every year, as Christmas approaches, the Yuletide fairy (Mrs S) drags us all, kicking and screaming, in the rain and the sleet, to the Cromwell Road in lovely London Town.
The Natural History Museum erects a skating rink in the forecourt, a festive rain-drenched "Xmas Fayre" springs up in the drizzle and we all enjoy the nice ice followed by a choice slice of seasonal pizza. Click the pic for the video experience.
Getting into the festive spirit
Customer Service, ha ha ha only joking, Esporta responds - ish
Those of you captivated by my earlier post and correspondence (click here) with the management at my friendly neighbourhood gymnasium might be sitting, waiting, breathlesssly expectant of the next missive...
So (lightly edited for clarity and comic effect) here's my latest epistle ...
Dear Mr Name changed to protect the guilty, A number of events have occurred since I wrote directly to you on 24th November.
- I received a poorly written letter from one of your staff, dated the 30th November, assuring me that the membership of my daughter ChaCha had been cancelled with immediate effect.
- You then withdrew £263:00 from my bank account on 3rd December (as you do each month), indicating that despite the aforementioned assurances her membership is still costing me money.
- I received a “one size fits all” mail-merge letter bearing your signature telling me how much you hoped I appreciated all the effort that Esporta put into enhancing my gym-going experience.
- Your letter, (although it did offer me a free cup of coffee) also informed me that my fees would be rising from £335 monthly to £345, hard to reconcile with the £263 you’re already erroneously charging me.
- I spoke with your reception staff and offered a conversation (over a free cup of coffee?) with you to address some of these issues and provide a little constructive customer feedback. As someone who makes a reasonable living advising companies on their approach to Sales and Marketing I thought that might be attractive to you. If not, that’s fine, however, I was told that you’d ring me. You haven’t, that’s not good.
To help you to reconcile the ongoing series of administrative errors and customer relationship mismanagement I enclose the correspondence to date. I’d really appreciate it if you’d take some positive action to rectify the impression you’re generating.StuffyThis was sent on the 5th of December,
still waiting ...
7th December still waiting
8th December still waiting
9th, 10th and 11th December, yup, still waiting...
Labels: esporta poor customer service royal berks oakwood stuffy
By public demand (that's right, you've no-one to blame but yourselves) - more Haiku movie reviews
Well folks, having launched the Haiku juggernaut on it's ponderous path I'm now, (in response to literally a brace of requests), having to put my minimalist money where my massive mouth is.
Heretofore and therewith, the miniaturised critiques of the latest offerings from Messrs Forster and Eastwood.
Quantum of Solace (slightly more substantial review here)
Sony and Aston
What was missing ? a story
and a sense of fun.
The Changeling, (a Mrs Stuffy selection)
A tragic tale, told
enthralling as the cold, red
slash, Angelina's lips.
Customer Service - Health and Efficiency........ or maybe not
My gym is apparently the flagship of the Esporta chain of health clubs. They're currently for sale, as they seem to be every six months or so. As a business it is one of the finest examples of bungee management I've ever seen with weekly management initiatives, management changes and management communications, indeed the only thing lacking is some management. Howsoever, although Mrs S and I are regular users of the establishment I realised a few weeks ago that neither of our lovely daughters were visiting the place often enough to justify the exorbitant amount of money I was forking out monthly to keep them on our membership. Accordingly I resolved one morning to have a chat with the nice ladies on reception and get the girls removed from my bill.
I waited until the steady stream of complainants and protesters had dwindled then approached and explained my request. " Ooooooh you need to speak with Sales" I was informed. Ok I thought (although un-sales would seem to be more appropriate).
I waited, a young lady sashayed out from the recesses of the management suite. I explained my need, she identified that this was way outside her remit, (mostly sashaying apparently) and telephoned someone else.
I waited, I love waiting, I don't get grumpy at all waiting. Another personable young lady arrived, smiling, well that made one of us. I explained my requirement, that I simply desired to remove my daughters from my membership.
"Oooooooh, you need to speak to (let's call her Sharon)".
"Do I?, do I really?"
"Oooooooh yes, I'll send her out"
I waited, I was getting better at waiting, but I noticed that my smiling skills seemed to be waning. Not all bad news though, my tutting and foot tapping were coming on apace.
The 'Customer Relationship Manager' appeared, a pleasant lass with an attention span shorter than her job title. I explained "my daughter, ChaCha, 13 years old, yes, membership, cancel, now"
Her fingers danced across the keyboard, "that's done" she announced.
"Super" I said, "and the same for her 20 year old sister please"
"I'm afraid I can't do that, you need to go and send an email to a girl who works for me and she'll do it"
"HaHa, very amusing, no seriously, please cancel her membership"
I can't, you have to write to us, she's over 18, it's head office policy"
"OK, you write the letter now and I'll sign it."
"I'm afraid you have to write or email it to us, I'm sorry"
She scribbled the e-mail address of her underling on a scrap of paper and proffered it to me as if it were the missing piece of the Da vinci code. Those of you who know me well will be, I hope both surprised and impressed to hear that I smiled, thanked her for her kind asssistance and left. I'd lost the capacity to fight, the system had ground me down.
I lost the piece of paper, no worries, 2 weeks later I received a letter, a real one, headed paper and from the General Manager of the gym no less.
This misbegotten missive informed me that since ChaCha was now 18 I would be charged an extra £75 a month for her continuing membership. Although I was a little upset that I'd apparently missed 5 years of her life it didn't stop me enjoying the irony of the line assuring me of the club's desire that I keep getting best value from my membership.
I attach the essence of my reply, I'll keep you posted...
Sir, I note with some alarm your letter informing me of your intention to increase my membership fees by £75 a month to cover the membership of my daughter ChaCha who you assert is, “now over 18 years of age”
My concerns are twofold:
1. My daughter ChaCha is 13 years old, not 18
2. In a meeting some two weeks ago with your Customer relationship manager I was informed that, as I requested, ChaCha had been removed from my account and that I would not be charged for her membership from the end of this month.
I’m sure that there is some simple explanation for what would appear to be administrative incompetence and I do look forward to receiving your clarification.
Labels: esporta poor customer service royal berks oakwood stuffy
Movie review – "Burn after reading"
I’m not an absolute fan of the work of the Coen brothers, I find them a little “curates egg” but I do, always, make the effort to see their movies as the upside invariably makes it worthwhile.
The best surpri
se in this film, (and it is full of surprises) was the way in which they’ve got actors who (to me at least) have always seemed watchable but limited, to convincinly play characters many miles removed from their typical role. Francis McDormand, Clooney and Pitt are not at all what one would expect and are fun, Malkovich, as he so often does, plays a blinder and the chaps running the CIA (JK Simmons and Davis Rasche) deliver a deadpan performance that had me chuckling out loud, very rare.
Mrs Stuffy, who found it ho-hum asked me (as we wended homeward our weary way) why I enjoyed it and after a moments reflection I was forced to conclude that it neatly captured my world view, people are mostly shallow, inept and driven by all the wrong things but that does make them very funny to watch.
and
The latest Bond outing - Quango of Solipsis (or something similar)
first things first, up against a very tough field, the worst, (by a long way), Bond theme ever. Really really bad, no seriously, I mean it, I think the Spice Girls could do better.
The movie...
Opinion is divided at the Barn over this latest offering from Aston Martin’s biggest customer. Mrs Stuffy is an unthinking, drooling, swooning fan of Mr Craig but I must confess that I prefer my Bond like my martinis, a little lighter, with a dash of humour and a twist of self-mockery.
I like, and miss, the gadgets. I think that Matt Damon is the better angst-ridden killing machine trying to reconcile his own personal demons. I understand the market forces but I'm unhappy seeing Bond try and compete with Jason Bourne.
I found this movie less convincing and far more confusing than Casino Royale. I’m also of the opinion that a Bond villain needs to be a little 'over the top'. Msieu Amalric failed to impress me and my view of his number one henchman was that he could have been effectively taken out by a disgruntled Christopher Biggins. It's also not right that Judi Dench had the best one-liners. Still taken in context (as an extended advertisement for Sony) this was a pleasant outing and it will be interesting to see what they do next to keep the 007 energy (and revenue) flowing.
In Bruges, revisited
The more retentive amongst you will recall that both Mrs S and I enjoyed the film 'In Bruges' enormously, it was beautifully filmed, very atmospheric, had great writing and some fine acting.
Bruges looked gorgeous in the movie and Mrs S was so impressed that she arranged a few days for us to take a little trip there. Since I'm growing increasingly hostile to (almost everything to be honest but especially) air travel we gave the Eurostar a whirl, it was, in fairness, a pain-free experience, indeed quite pleasurable and quick despite a recent fire in one of the tunnels which slowed everything down to the pedestr
ian crawl of a normal commuter train.
Our hotel (her ladyship had gone so far as to book us into the same hotel used by the protagonists in the movie) was (as you can see) picturesque, furnished exquisitely and priced accordingly.
We did the whole touristy thing, museums, galleries, boat trip, breathless staggering up the 366 steps of the belfry all surrounded by a small sea of beige crimplene and grey hair, I suspect that it may be a bit of an 'oldie' destination.
This was driven home as we lingered over our coffee at 10:30 pm and realised that every other restaurant in the square was closing and the staff in ours were patiently waiting for us to bugger off so they could do the same.
For those who've not been there, I heartily commend Bruges for a short break, good food (if calories and cream are your thing), superb beers, nice folk and a beautiful town. We captured a few snaps, I've put a few on Youtube with some music to try and make them a little less tedious, click on the image on the left and (hopefully) enjoy.
It's late September ...
My little brother is an accomplished and experienced cyclist, spending many hours wending his way around the highways and byways of Munich, He does, it has to be admitted, have the occasional mishap, his latest involving a set of tram lines, some enforced lying down quickly in the road, a lot of pain and subsequently the removal of most of his original elbow and its replacement in shiny new titanium.
Since he has therefore been forced to withdraw from the Alle bayerischen Armes wringenden Schlüsse (All Bavarian Arm Wrestling finals) he an
d Jan joined us for a quiet relaxing recuperative weekend at the Barn, luckily for them this coincided with a two day sleepover for a number of ChaCha's chums, a specialist team of high pitched noise machines. The British weather, predictable as ever, delivered "Summer in a Weekend". It was, for us, a fun filled weekend oscillating wildly between mellow meandering and tooth-rattling maximum decibel high jinks. There's real joy in nice weekend filled with fun, family and friends, here's a few snaps ... click on the Schwäne (swans).
And then the stars came out, De Niro, Pacino, Stuffy, 50Cents ...
There are a number of things in life which should probably be thought of as a "tick in the box" event, something to be enjoyed at least once before one shuffles off the mortal coil. I've ticked a few of those in my life so far, (I remember a particular rainy weekend in Yorkshire with a pair of twins from the Harrogate beach volleyball team), however, as a film buff it was a great treat yesterday evening to be ticking off the "attend a full-on film premiere" box.
Clutching our invitations to the first UK showing of Righteous Kill, suited and booted, (although Mrs Stuffy ve
toed the electric blue Boateng suit) we made our way to London's heaving Leicester Square and stepped onto the vast expanse of the red carpet.
As we'd arrived late-ish, (heavy traffic and the thronging star-watchers) it was only occupied by a plethora of security chaps, one Mark Ronson (who is apparently adept at changing the discs on a gramophone), Robert de Niro and Al Pacino, how splendid !
The hordes of paparazzi make it a very weird experience but I did my best to look as if this is something one does every day as we trundled past the thespians and the proferrers of autograph books. The press, focused on the diminutive and drably dressed actors (oh how I wish I'd gone for the luminous suit) did not call for me to smile for them and our promenade into the cinema was over all too quickly. Once inside, we were herded (past the corralled media types) seat-ward, pausing only to snaffle popcorn and sweets.
The audience spent the next 20 minutes incurring whiplash and neck strain trying to spot someone more famous than "that girl from the Bill!" to no avail. The cinema full, we were introduced to a couple of suits from the production company who thanked their mums and introduced the director, Jon Avnet who thanked his mum, then introduced Bobby and Al (as I've come to know them). A wave, a smile and on with the show.
It's a very good film, but not a great film. Al and Bob are really getting the hang of this acting thing and play well off each other. There's not the intensity of the famous scene (only 6 minutes!) in Heat but there is a nice subtlety in the relationship and the roles. Interestingly (contrary to type) de Niro plays the apparent hothead and Pacino the cooler, more controlled character. Brian Dennehy is wasted and 50 Cents adds nothing but Carla Gugino makes a believable and attractive contribution.
The story is written by the chap who wrote 'Inside Man' and there are echoes of that excellent film. I also had deja vu moments from 'The Usual Suspects' and 'Basic Instinct' as the writer suggested clues, deployed red herrings and misdirected the unwary audience. Full of twists, some obvious, some less so, it makes for an enjoyable movie experience as I'd have said to Bob and Al if they hadn't naffed off after ten minutes to get to the after-show party before the unwashed masses arrived.
So, a big tick in the box marked "walk the red carpet" and a thumbs up from myself and Mrs Stuffy (who stayed awake and quite alert throughout).
Dreaming of drowsy, delicious, delightful, diving, dysentery-free days in dusty, Dahab
I mentioned here, briefly, the recurring injuries sustained whilst holidaying in sunny Egypt, We've been back a couple of weeks now and I've assembled a brief video scrapbook of the trip. click on the image of the hotel view for the You-tube experience.
My apologies for the poor quality of the underwater shots, I'm still learning how to use the lovely underwater camera which I was given for Christmas, no amount of time spent snapping away in the bath prepares one for the real thing.
Highlights of the trip would include, completing my PADI advanced dive course with an ace instructor at a great dive centre, Sinai Divers at Dahab.
I got to dive some classic sites including the lovely Bells and Canyon and the notorious Blue Hole. It's a little off-putting to trudge past the memorials to those who've died on the site as you're he
ading for the water.
Other notable firsts included my little girl having her first scuba lesson and also, after a number of attempts, getting up on water-skis, albeit briefly.
This getting up on water-skis is something that her dad still finds a bit of a challenge, I seem to be unable to stop trying to pull the boat backwards, which very rarely works.
ChaCha's cousin Tatty, who also appears in the vid, is a splendid water-skier and would have been mono-skiing by the end of the week if Mark Warner had a mono-ski for such a tiny person, she's a bit of a wake-blasting prodigy is our Tats.
Low points of the holiday include the flights, courtesy of the now defunct XL (I'm glad I didn't waste any time on the feedback form now) and a distressing (and apparently ubiquitous) intestinal disorder.
There may be those among you, gentle readers, who think that one lone male holidaying with seven gorgeous women would be an attractive prospect, but here's a clue...
I spent six days underwater .
Sweating profusely for a good cause
Spare a thought for young Mark and Mary, our chums over at Gullibles travels who are cycling (presumably through torrential rain) to Paris in aid of the Stroke Association. If you've not made the e
ffort so far do please pop over to Mark's justgiving page,
http://www.justgiving.com/markmclellan
he's only a couple of hundred off his target and 'tis a fine cause. Failing that, send industrial strength talcum powder and sudocrem.
2 Movie reviews
and not in the Haiku form,
why?
I'll tell you why,
because Guillermo del Toro uses 6 syllables before I've even started to say anything...
Hellboy 2,
Guillermo 
del toro, he of the aforementioned polysyllabic monicker makes very, very, beautiful films, Pan's Labyrinth is a gorgeous thing. I was not surprised that Hellboy 2, featured some exceedingly stunning scenery, effects and filming, I was surprised that the characters were so rich, that he managed to imbue a cloud of smoke with an instantly recognizeable, complex and likeable personality. As an action film with some depth, this one really works, it's lovely to look at and Mrs Stuffy stayed awake and laughed a few times. It's a great film, I commend it to you.
Kung fu panda
Dreamworks have made impressive, clever beautifully executed, well written animated movies, I'm thinking of Shrek, maybe Shrek 2, they've also made many (shark tale, flushed away, over the hedge) that don't come anywhere near Pixar's finest, (The Incredibles, Finding Nemo, Ice age 2).
This is another of those 'just doesn't get there' movies. It's well produced and technically neat but the story is rubbish and seems to express the philosophy that working very hard to achieve something is worthy but not as effective as being lazy, obese and greedy because " it will mysteriously and suddenly all work out fine".
Doesn't seem like a particularly appropriate message for the increasingly indolent and corpulent youth of our nation. You never saw (still skinny) David Carradine turn down the opportunity to do a little hard graft for a bowl of rice.
Messages aside, it just felt like a formula movie, I watched it on a plane and then found watching the Incredibles for the 4th time on a 2 inch ipod screen infinitely more pleasurable.
2 snores on the Mrs Stuffy scale .
Back from the desert, flat on my back
After a week in sunny Egypt accompanied by seven women, (assorted wives, daughters, cousins, friends of cousins and nieces) and having spent a week hauling 15 litre tanks of nitrox and my neoprene encased body in and out of the Red sea, I discovered (not surprisingly) that the stress and exertion had scrunched a number of muscles in my shoulders and back.
A quick trip to the physio and the lovely Debbie spent an hour manipulating and acupuncturing my knotted tendons. I must say that the treatment was much more effective than the Thai lady who had a crack at me
last week, (Her approach to massage was very combatative and her conversation, with the notable exception of "Pain ? - Good !" was unintelligible.
I do always find that acupuncture leaves me feeling a little deflated though ...
I used to be treated by a voodoo acupuncturist, I'd be walking down the street, she'd stick a pin in a wax model 10 miles away and I'd say, "Oooh that's better"
Haiku movie reviews are the new black, it's the cutting edge of a roller-coaster of a bandwagon chaps, climb aboard while it's still fresh
Nice try by Mark with his Haiku review for the Dark Knight but he's letting his Adam West show through ...
herewith
The Dark Knight
Oscar for Ledger
Christian Baleful, Caine is class
Ferry, very good
and a stunning cgi effort from Pixar
Wall-E
Robots find love in a
funny fantastic future
a vast fast treat
(Kudos to Katie for being better at counting syllables than I am)
people
