Because I'm sorely lagging behind here:

The Lovely Bones: looked beautiful though strayed into overly fanciful to my mind, Peter Jackson coped manfully with apparently studio imposed constraints and The Girl (Saoirse) was gorgeous. But unless you have no attention span for the written word, you're better to read the book.

Promises Promises: Douglas Maxwell, Traverse, last week. Very funny. Slightly dare I say implausible although like all the best stories, based on a truth. Apparently. Very nicely written. A performance that was mostly masterful but oddly scatty in patches. And a very smart set.

A Single Man: gorgeous looking, most particularly the Spanish James Dean. But rather too lingering for my liking. Colin, to my mind, horribly miscast. Whereas Julianne Moore gave me hope for my spinsterhood. If I can just learn to apply my eyeliner like that.

And Glee continues to enthrall me and brighten up my Monday nights.

Then last night, faithful first Wednesday of the month, bumper session of committee meeting, general meeting and reading of - we contented ourselves with - act one of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Womanfully, I didn't thrust my hand forth to offer my reading talents. It always seems a bit wrong when you're part of the organising committee. And we had plenty other takers. But what a cracking play. Superbly spiteful. I love it.

And in a most adorable gesture that restored some of my flickering faith in humanity, lovely Amina, dancing master / evil spirit from Polished brought us cakes. The first time she has baked cakes since arrival in these lands, she said. I wonder if this is the first time that this has happened in the ten years since I've been attending these meetings. Or maybe I'm just having a misty eyed moment. Whichever. Amina, we thank you.