Hullo. Just a quick one before I watch The Lobster on Netflix for next Wednesday's review - I'm working 11 days on the trot now, both at the pub and on the road building convention displays with my mate Steve. I'm away on Wednesday so I'll have to do the review before then, and I need to sort out my February in Blogging round-up for the day after as well.
I'd very much like to switch the world off for a week and sleep solidly, take baths, drink coffee, watch waves lap a rugged shore, shuffle down under blankets with a tome of classic literature as lambent flames leap and crackle in an open fire... but, alas, looks like I'll be serving pink gin to screeching customers and hefting wooden cabinets above my head for a week instead.
Such is life. Best not worry about it now. It's not happening now. What is happening now is steaming Earl Grey tea, a belly full of tomato and chilli pasta, and two hours of phantasmagorical cinematic storytelling courtesy of your friend and mine, Greek surrealist filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos.
I just love saying that name. Yorgos Lanthimos. Everyone should say that name at least once a day. It's great.
OK. Bye. I'm going now. Bye.
No comments:
Post a Comment