Because I take my commitments very seriously, I ate two meals tonight. I signed up the Guardian's 10:10 campaign a couple of days ago and as one of my pledges, I must vow not to waste food. Well, I had half a lasagne left from the sisters' weekend plus a big pile of duck courtesy of Siobhan that was due to expire today. Rather than waste one prize meal, I thought I'd better stuff them both down. So I continue to do my bit to reduce carbon emissions...
And it seems only fitting to talk about 10:10 on this, the day of 9s. Or sixes if you're Derren Brown. I had a lovely day on this day of 9s. A train to Aberdeen, a group of more or less mute 16 year olds (complete with cute Mena Suvari lookalike) that meant I caught my return train in glorious time having stuffed myself first with mini Babybels in the first class lounge at Aberdeen rail station (hmm, maybe I should consider the gym tomorrow morning). My journey to the platform was accompanied bizarrely by a male choir urging me to buy their wonderful roses. I think - according to my taxi driver at any rate - The Flying Scotsman was 'docking' in Aberdeen station at the time, hence I suppose the middle-class entertainment on the concourse.
And then, screaming child aside, I had a lovely leisurely journey back to Edinburgh courtesy of my favourite train service, National Express, as the sun set rather picturesquely over the East Coast.
Anyway, all I was really meaning to say here was that last night's cinematic pleasure was District 9. And it was a true cinematic pleasure. Some may say the parallels with the political situation in South Africa were heavy-handed but fresh from my South African empathy in Fiona's The Island, I was ready for parallels as heavy-handed as necessary. And in fact, I think the film makes a much wider point about how spiteful people can be to each other.
As Russell pointed out, it's a crying shame to end up weeping helplessly at a screen covered with CGI creatures. I take it more as being a sign of my large and empathetic heart.
And it seems only fitting to talk about 10:10 on this, the day of 9s. Or sixes if you're Derren Brown. I had a lovely day on this day of 9s. A train to Aberdeen, a group of more or less mute 16 year olds (complete with cute Mena Suvari lookalike) that meant I caught my return train in glorious time having stuffed myself first with mini Babybels in the first class lounge at Aberdeen rail station (hmm, maybe I should consider the gym tomorrow morning). My journey to the platform was accompanied bizarrely by a male choir urging me to buy their wonderful roses. I think - according to my taxi driver at any rate - The Flying Scotsman was 'docking' in Aberdeen station at the time, hence I suppose the middle-class entertainment on the concourse.
And then, screaming child aside, I had a lovely leisurely journey back to Edinburgh courtesy of my favourite train service, National Express, as the sun set rather picturesquely over the East Coast.
Anyway, all I was really meaning to say here was that last night's cinematic pleasure was District 9. And it was a true cinematic pleasure. Some may say the parallels with the political situation in South Africa were heavy-handed but fresh from my South African empathy in Fiona's The Island, I was ready for parallels as heavy-handed as necessary. And in fact, I think the film makes a much wider point about how spiteful people can be to each other.
As Russell pointed out, it's a crying shame to end up weeping helplessly at a screen covered with CGI creatures. I take it more as being a sign of my large and empathetic heart.
posted by Claire at 10:45 pm
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