Briefly, and it will have to be briefly as I'm up to my eyeballs in deadlines, Wednesday went like a dream, and it seems like a dream, long ago. I survived all my meetings and I won all the arguments I had to win and it seemed to be going so well and I somehow managed to do it all so professionally, with a/v and everything. I thought I'd done really well, considering.
Tea was also a nice basil/chicken/pasta dish and I caught up on the Who Do You Think You Are I'd missed on Tuesday. Then I watched Rome and it was all good.
Thurs I had off so I managed to multi-task washing, watering the garden, fic and dvd watching (no net though, that was a multitask too far). It was lovely and sunny, I had a nice cup of tea and toast and marmalade - okay, my marmalade, so not so lovely.
And I watched Room With a View. The Laurence Fox/Rafe Spall one. To be honest, I could watch Laurence lazily blowing smoke rings forever, but it was actually quite lovely (so was Laurence). I loved the Florence scenes, especially all those statues - even I found it all a bit confronting - and I just adored the Spalls, each of them adorable in their own way (and the father/son interaction was a delight). Rafe was the good man, if a little on the forthright and stalky and manipulative side. He was in lurve, so it's allowed (though these day's he'd have had an an AVO slapped on him).
I also really liked how Cecil wasn't made out to be a bad guy at all, just not the right guy. To be honest, I found him quite adorable and I'd be up for a sham marriage, totally. Mind you, I was ready to scream if they'd mentioned he "wasn't the marrying kind one more time". Yes, I get it: reads books, doesn't play rugger, moving on (I mean, it wasn't such a big deal for Catherine Moreland and her frock buying Mr Tilney, was it?). From the press on this version way back when, I was under the impression that the whole Cecil Is As Gay As A Pink Cocktail With A Parasol thing had been delivered with a touch more subtility than that. Guess not. As subtle as a 70s comedy sketch, imho.
Never mind. Laurence, lounging about, blowing smoke rings. What's not to love? (And did the poor dear accidentally nut himself walking through doorways, seeing as he was taller than most of the doorframes in the house - which reminded me so much of the house of some rich peoples I used to know).
Rafe was sweet, if a little intense at times. Rafe fans should take special note of the nude swimming hole antics (I know I did). I know, shameless, but, hey, I'm not dead yet.
I also really like Gino, the carriage driver who found our heroine her "good man". So damn sweet. A good man himself, I'd say.
Okay, also got me hair done (why, it took hours off my age, sigh), watched Rex and Mayo. Loved how poor Kite caught him wih the earrings and high heels. Okay, also as subtle as a 70s sitcom, but it made me laugh, anyway. Poor Kite was going to be scrubbing that image out of his brain for weeks, if not months. And then he went for a beer with the gay guy. Dear Kite, ever exapanding his horizons. And for me, happy memories of the Caithness glassworks, all those hot, young, sweaty bodies...sorry, where was I? Ah yes, the sort of plot that even Inspector Lynley would be embarressed about, but one makes do.
At least we know where Mayo stands on office romances.
Speaking of which, I think I accidentally killed Hathaway, which was damn careless of me (and Lewis). Well, it's either Hathaway or his shade that poor Lewis is talking to at the end (but I've got three parts to write before then so I'll guess we'll never know because peoples is always interrupting with stuff that is more important (to them) than my fic).
Must get rid of all the bossy boots in my life. I've done a cull (a passive aggressive puppy doesn't want to play any more cull, I will admit to my shame), but I think I need a bit more pruning, just to save my sanity because my precious free time doesn't belong to them (and they've had quite enough of it already, the greedy pigs). I wants to write, and even if it's crap, it's my crap, my time, and my right to write it. So there.
Besides, the Lewis fics are keeping me up nights, and Much is haunting my dreams, reminding me of his three part opus, ditto Billy and Allan.
So sod off, bossy boots. Or, to borrow from one of my fave breakup songs:
There's dust on my guitar, you fuck
And it's all your fault
You paralyse my mind
And for that you suck, uh-huh
Gawd, interrupted more times than I can count just trying to type that sentence. My time is not my own. Wail. Gnash. Frustration of unfinished fics.
Stan Winston, 62; special-effects guru won 4 Academy Awards
Associated Press: Unclear on the Concept of Fair Use
Budgets, Faith and Gore: A friendly chat with Cathryn and Ben
SPN Dallas Con Day Three - Part Two
Supernatural Actor Jensen Ackles Makes it to Emmy 'Short List 'Ballot
Padalecki Talks Supernatural
Why we all love Paul Newman...
Edward Norton: The incredible sulk
It may be bonnie, but it's not Prince Charlie, embarrassed art gallery chiefs discover
Twain house in jeopardy
Would Australia's PM ban Botticelli?
Woman kidnapped to do ironing
Gay men, straight women 'share brain detail'
The right to love
Ancient frog unveiled
Put your questions to William Shatner
Phar Lap died from arsenic poisoning
Witchcraft in the full moon
Downey saddling up for "Cowboys"
Python pops out of 10th-floor toilet
'You've Got To Be A Fighting Rooster'
Demin Dudes- Colin Farrell
One in three IT staff snoops on colleagues: survey
Gay couples are emphasizing low-key weddings
Dinosaur treasure trove unearthed in Utah
Homecoming 09: Scotland's call to the world
Hollywood Backlot (Stargate Atlantis)
Can Carolla Rev Engines as Host of U.S. Top Gear?
Stan Winston: an appreciation
Champions star heads for the Queen Vic
Mystery deepens as fifth human foot washes up
Singin' in the Rain star Cyd Charisse dies aged 86
Bad guys get more sex: study
Secret Diary of a Call Girl's US debut is a hit with viewers