Saturday 30th April 2005

It has been so long since I went to the cinema, that I cannot even remember what I last saw on the big screen. This was an important event. This was the first movie of the period commonly referred to as the Summer Blockbuster. The big hitters coming along with major movies of the year, to entice the paying public to part with their cash and take their children along (to those suitable offerings). Read more about this and other rumours from the Hollywood, home of the beautiful people at Tagliners. So, I headed into Reading on Friday night, my old stomping ground. Many a night spent out on the tiles here, particularly during my college days. Busy, as expected there was enough time for me to catch up with my friend, in a bar, just next door to the cinema, before we headed in to see the main feature. We had to queue, but there were only a handful of people ahead of us. We had taken the wise decision (this time) to get to the correct screen in plenty of time and actually have some choice of seating for a change. While unreserved seating does have it’s limitations, there is something that can be said about allocation as given by my local multiplex. Then again, that is the one only redeeming feature. Enough of this idle narrative, let us move onto the main event. I think it is foolish to consider this a sci-fi movie and therefore exclude yourself from watching (I am of course referring to the large female contingent, that read this blog). Sure, there are science fiction references, littered all across the screen, from the title to the actual great question. Though I wish to stress that the film overall is a highly entertaining adventure. The casting was inspired, with unknowns taking the place of actual characters, with the more well known celebrities voicing the machinery. I have not read the book, so apart from the basic concept of the story, which I already knew, I am in no position to comment whether this was a worthy adaptation from the book. For a film, dedicated to the memory of the late Doughlas Adams my friend, who had read the text, smiled with glee, telling me that it was a great interpretation of the story. This is a film that perhaps in the past I would not have seen, tending to watch such films on television or perhaps DVD. While I am sure I will see more amazing films to watch over the coming months, I doubt many will be as entertaining to watch or as original in concept, and so quintessentially British. If you find yourself bored over the cause of the next few days, I highly recommend you go down to your local multiplex and watch this film. It will by no means, blow you away but it will entertain you and you will leave the cinema with a big grin on your face!

so, what did you plan to do over the Bank Holiday Weekend? Myself, well nothing really. Just an opportunity to rest and sort myself out. Saturday morning, was a quick trip into the town centre, to arrange a few things. Nothing major but something that needed to be done and that I had been putting off since the turn of the year. Then I came home and after lunch decided what to do with my day. There was something that I had been wanting for my room, since October but never got around to buying. January had come and gone, missing the sales hadn’t been the main barrier, just my lazy self. So I put it to myself that I was going to go and hunt down what I had been looking for. The product in question? An executive leather chair, which would not been missing from the office of any major managing director (or would that be boardroom, yeah, Sippy?) My destination? Slough, and the famous Bath Road. I had an ulterior motive for going to Slough, but that is not important. Little did I know that this was about to turn out to be a wasted afternoon, but I was confident of making something out of the day. To achieve something, even if a minor accomplishment. So, there was, a sunny Saturday afternoon, going in and out of every furniture store and retail outlet, with little success. My final stop was to Office World, which although open, had half the store closed for renovation. At last, I found some chairs, but the quality to cost factor was questionable. Plus, not only was the design of putting and out of character for my room, they were not that comfortable to sit upon, which meant, long nights in front of my machine would have got unbearable. I headed out back to my car, disappointed, perhaps the net was the only place to seriously look? After all, I know exactly what I am looking for and am sure there is a store dedicated to my type of product. We shall see. It was 3pm and I wanted to make my way back. Having promised my Mum to pick up a two big bags of compost from a local garden centre, I decided upon my course of action, the moment I got home. You may have heard 1980s pop starlet, Kim Wilde advertising for a well known nationwide chain of garden centres. This runs along side her other commercial engagement, with a high street supplier of food supplements. Sorry, I digress, back to Saturday afternoon. Our local branch is on the A40, between Beaconsfield Old Town and Loudwater. On my there, I got a text message and scrambled around my pockets to get to my phone and read the message. While it had the sentiments were what I had expected, they arrived later than I had anticipated. No matter, it was the second part of the SMS which briefly warmed my heart. It was 3.30pm and I had two hours until scheduled appearance. Not wanting to waste anytime, I loaded up two compost bags onto my wheel barrow come trolley, rushed to the till and headed home. Wycombe was busy, and I did not get home until just before 4pm. A man on a mission, I changed into some rough clothes and began to mow the lawn, front and rear. It had been 35 days since I had last cut the grass, and it was in a sorry state. All to aware I was until a critical time constraint, I tried to complete the job as quickly as possible. The front garden (if you can actually refer to it as that) was a simple task and no more than a twenty minute job. I quickly cleared up and then headed back outside to the rear garden. This is where the real job lay. Under normal circumstances I would stop, clean the Flymo at least once in between completing the garden. Today, there would be no such pit stop, I just raced up and down the lawn in record time. I rushed into the house to catch the time, it was a quarter past five. Carrying out some cleaning, I packed away the kit, into the shed. The final job was to take the compost bags out of my boot and place them in the garden, ready for the arrival of my Mum from shopping, so she could do some gardening later this evening. By the time I had cleaned myself up, grabbed a drink, I sat down and tuned over to 501 on the Sky Digital set top box. The on screen clock, ticked over to 5.30pm. Perfect. I sat down and waited. Apart from the main event, this was an opportunity for me to catch up on the news. I had listen to various CDs in the car and not put on the radio, so was quite oblivious to world events and terror attacks in Africa. While I was glad to get a job, well done in time to watch Sky News I was concerned that I may not be able to see the person, I was hoping to see. The clock ticked and the rolling news, rolled on. (Sorry, I agree that this posting is not up to my usual high standard, I hope I am forgiven.) Then, with minutes remaining until 6pm, the topic changed to the trial. There they were, as large as life, as beautiful as the sunshine that was filling my living room. While their onscreen time was crucially cut short, they nevertheless delivered a credible and positive defence for what has been a difficult week for the pop star. Then, in an instant, they were gone and the news presenter moved onto the next story, the next headline and the next analyst. This is the era will live in, of 24 hour news and online news feeds (even blogs, if you will). In this celebrity obsessed world, you are only as good as your last headline. Just a shame, that this particular person is not making headlines, just a part of them. Perhaps, I just wish they were a part of mine. One step at a time, one step at a time.

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