And don't be telling me at least I have a clean room. It's all moved about and packed away, nothing is to hand, the tv is in the wrong place and the new sheets are scratchy and my mattress is all lumpy and wrong. It's like staying in a guest bedroom. Feh.
Spider bites: 3. Spiders killed: well, to paraphrase Bodie, you spray behind the Vermeer (print), how many do you know you've killed? Yes, it was a bit of the night of the long spray cans, but I got bit three times in an hour and enough was enough. Time to live and let die. Besides, I'm decking the halls next week and I've no wish to end up with infested tinsel. The blue bauble - I must have it!
Tv shows watched: lots. Well, not so much at first, I even missed the Profs and The Sweeney due to circumstances beyond my control, but on Monday I managed to catch up on Spooks, Torchwood and Robin Hood (thank you!!!).
Spooks was the episode that made the UK papers a while back now (and it was the Independent so there's no point reposting the link) about the Christian loonies, played with an admirable degree of some restraint by Shaun Dingwall going on a, well, crusade. As always with Spooks, so well done and too fretfully not beyond the realms of possibly (like nobody noticed when Putin reinstated SMERSH last year, but I think they've noticed now). What I really liked though were all the lovely shots of St Paul's. It never looked that bloody magnificent when I saw it, but on Spooks, they made it look bloody marvellous. Really iconic, which was etirely the point. Great photography on Spooks. It always looks so glossy and impressive.
Poor Adam of course had a complete meltdown. I just loved Malcolm trying to kick him out of it. Poor, poor blondie bear, it's all too much.
Now I was supposed to be hear to bury Torchwood, not to praise it, but to my utter surprise I didn't mind the evil fairies at the bottom of the garden one. In fact, I quite liked it. There was limited Owen/Gwen/Tosh/Ianto, actual research and references to past cases/incidents/theories/folklore, which I always love and Jack got to show emotion. Okay, so I'm not quite sure where the love of his life fitted in with flirting with Algy and running off with the Doc, but, whatever. It wasn't a Torchwood episode at all, which is why, I think, I liked it. It reminded me very much of those spooky BBC kids shows I used to watch after school. This is in no doubt because it was written by PJ Hammond, of Saphire and Steel fame. Behold the silver touch of a superior wordsmith. More of this please.
The next episode and we're back to people running about screaming and talking about sex, like a bunch of twelve year olds at a pyjama party. Sadly, I picked it for a Cars That ate Paris type story from the outset. It seems they've rather abandoned the idea of everything being rift based, but these two episodes were better than what has gone before (not hard) and I think the show benefits more from being more of an anthology of weirdness, like early X Files.
If only the acting wasn't so crap. I still can't stand Owen, horny little toad that he is, looking like he was put together by the Hensons, Ianto just pouts, Tosh can't act to save her life and Gwen is atrocious. Usually, when they've made such a terrible casting error, they move the focus onto other characters, but they're all duds in Torchwood.
Not that the acting is any better in Robin Hood but I seem to be dreadfully forgiving of its many shortcomings. It's been a while since I've watched something this utterly fluffy. Maybe that's it: after a year of solid meat and potatoes telly, I'm all gone on the sugar rush. Besides, the dumber the show, the more fun it is to write daft pseudo-academic pieces. For example:
They say every generation gets the Robin Hood they deserve, but what did we do to deserve this one? Peanut Gallery offers a more detailed examination of the differences between the 80s Robin and the 21stC one:
...Robin Hood "de son temps":
The common people and the established gentry band
together to fight against the growing power of the
nouveau riche who see everything purely for its
monetary value and do not believe in the concept of
The small businessman and the established gentry band
together to fight against a government which is
stripping the peerage of its established rights, while
raising taxes in order to fund war in the Middle East
and accusing even the meekest critic of colluding with
I mean, could they make the references to foreign wars and "winning hearts and minds" a little more obvious, because I'm just not getting it.
Mind you, I keep saying how bad it is, but I can't stop watching it. I have a 'bad boyfriend' fic bubbling away somewhere at the back of my poor brain. Poor Much. Is there nothing worse than worshipping from anear (as opposed to afar) and being soundly mocked for it. Nothing worse than loving somone who can't, or won't, love you back. Um, yeah. Subtext rapidly becoming text.
Anyhoo, I loved the last episode I saw. Just for once the Sheriff really thrashed Robin. I mean, he usually wins anyway (this isn't the most clever or competent of Robins) but this time he ran rings around him. Robin suffered some serious losses (men, morale, Marian), but still didn't seem that concerned (sociopathic tendencies?) A little more brooding young Robin, or I'll think there's something seriously awry, like the Sherrif and Marian do (and maybe they're right).
And how much did I love the scene where the Sheriff switched Guy across the backside with an arrow. It is possible to get little white lines across a dvd from overplay afterall - wicked grin.
I also loved John patting poor Much after he went into meltdown thinking Robin had been injured. Robin is somewhat cruel, and the rest of 'em aren't much better. Poor, long suffering Much. One day he'll go postal like Ianto and it won't be pretty.
So yeah, an episode I actually really enjoyed, though on second viewings, the others aren't too bad. Okay, they are, I'm just wallowing in trashy telly. According to The Times, it gets really daft. Oh well. It's not like I'm watching for the plots. Wish I could watch it for the plots, but I'll just make do.
Oh yes, I also indulged in the Bullshitters. Meant to watch the Profs and Sweeney afterwards and giggle and point and laugh, but, bugger, it, eh? The best plans of mice and tv addicts.
DVD box sets: 1. The Emma Peel megaset aka my Xmas pressie to myself. All Emma, all the time. Now for a rainy weekend to bury myself in superlative 60s style and silliness.
Magpies fed: 6. The magpies brought their kids 'round this weekend. All four of 'em. One of the fluffy bubs hopped right down and started begging directly. "What a right little Alpha you are," I cooed, and that was it: Alpha, Beta, Delta and Gamma.
I like Alfie though. Real personality. Yesterday he was begging loudly through the screen door:
Alfie: MEEP! MEEP! MEEP!
Me: Oh, hush up now, young Alfie.
Alfie (pianissimo): ...meep...meep...meep.
Heh. I'm rather touched. Alfie: the only creature walking this earth who pays me any mind. He'll soon learn better. So anyway, fun and games, and me with four extra (noisy) mouths to feed. I swear they ate an entire pig yesterday.
Scottish fairs attended: 1. I'd actually made plans, out loud plans, to do nowt but sleep on Sunday, but no, AP wanted to go in for the St Andews day thingie, and I had to go with. Usually, it's in the middle of nowhere, so I don't know who the committee were sleeping with but this year there was a market set up smack bang in Hyde Park, with massed pipe bands, dancing, demos, genuine nobs from the UK and many a delicacy. Got myself a tin of microwave haggis - that we live in such an age of wonders. Picked up some Irn Bru and oatcakes and tea, too. Also sampled some heather wine that I really, absolutely must get some more of. To die for. It wasn't a bad day at all, I was just sleepy, so I was doing a lot of sitting and people watching. What I wouldn't do to get me some fresh, proper haggis though. I've not had any for a year. Sigh.
Cups of tea: too many to count.
National Galleries of Scotland
Watch and learn
Terror Vision: The 9/11 aftermath (Spooks)
Hollywood Nights - Charity Dinner (Neil)
"Flushed Away" - London Photocall (Jackman)
"Flushed Away" London Premiere (Jackman)
"Flushed Away" London Premiere (Jackman)
History of Malaria: Famous Victims
Teased, tousled and torrid: '80s mane men aimed high