I love this photo – Miniminx running wild in the desert in her pyjamas after a brief sleep. We spent the evening before watching the shooting stars in the amazing night sky. It was so magical and felt so free and peaceful.
And of course, we were queens of the desert for just one day – no crowns or tiaras, just PJs.
I love a film screening, especially when it materialises out of the ether via twitter. Earlier this week Annie Mole, one of my favourite bloggers, posted a link to the invitation so I nabbed a couple of tickets.
So off to the Courthouse in Soho I went with a friend last night. I made a discovery too – it’s an amazing venue – the small rooms off the bar are actually refurbished cells – the screening room has limegreen seats – the place is bonkers!
I was really excited about seeing this – it’s a new Brit film from Warp – the coolest arthouse since Factory – and the director of the Mighty Boosh, Paul King was there in person with lead character Simon (Bunny) Farnaby to introduce the screening and put some context into the story. They did this very well and Farnaby’s Grandfather is the inspiration for the whole thing.
The Bunny and the Bull was a play before it’s metamorphosis into a feature film. This is billed as a comedy – but it is dark, complex and eerie and much more so than The Mighty Boosh. It investigates the themes of hedonism, addiction and obsession – leaving each as enigma and rhetoric. I saw it not just as a cautionary tale of co-dependency that smacks you in the face with a very powerful ending – but also great evidence of intensely creative film-making and emerging new talents.
Bunny is the adventure seeking womanising, drinking and gambling type while his friend Stephen Turnbull is crippled with OCD that eventually traps him in his flat.
They have an adventure-packed trip across Europe; stealing a stuffed Bear, winning a car in a crab-off, drinking the milk of lactating dogs and a tedious shoe factory tour, are just a few of the surreal experiences on this journey.
For me I felt as if I’ve been transported into a web of strange influences; a nod to Sponge Bob, a soupcon of Smashing Pumpkins videos, Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, Buffalo 66, Rhubarb & Custard all crossed my mind, with a touch of Eraserhead thrown in and some Ken Russell for good measure; I loved it, and while the high tension dropped in the middle of the movie, the ending was brilliant. I would like to see it again.
Bunny & the Bull stars Edward Hogg (White Lightnin’, Brothers of the Head), Simon Farnaby (The Mighty Boosh, Jam and Jerusalem) and Veronica Echegui (El Patio de mi Carcel, Yo soy la Juani). Julian Barratt, Noel Fielding and Richard Ayoade appear in bizarre and brilliant incarnations.
The director, Paul King, is adapting the Paddington Bear books into a film – can’t wait to see that either!
Do you love the Beano? Does it bring back memories of your childhood when you used to still get sweets measured and weighed and popped into a little paper bag? There’s always been something great about every magazine that has left the D C Thomson publishing house and made it’s way South.
My daughter has become an avid fan of the magazine – I even got her club membership recently but both of us are feeling a bit, well more than a bit ripped off, we’re about to jump ship.
First there’s the price of the magazine. We’re feeling like Dennis has become a hoodie and is robbing us blind weekly.
We traipse to the papershop religiously to pick up a copy – the little jokes on each page are fun, the comic strips still raise a laugh, so it’s a nice ritual – but what’s going on with the cover price? The cost is spiralling out of control – how much will it be next year?
I coughed up yet for this week’s Beano magazine and was really shocked at the price.
‘£1.35?’ I exclaimed in the newsagent shop as I looked at my daughter – mirroring my raised eyebrows…even she, the budding shopaholic, was surprised.
‘Yes, it’s gone up again, but you get free toys.’ said the lady behind the counter.
‘We don’t want any more cheap plastic toys – aren’t we meant to be saving the planet?’
She smiled, I handed over the cash.
I’m not happy about this. I’m not harking back to my youth here but the Beano was 85p not so long ago and then when it went up to 99p I was surprised. Then it went up to £1.25 which I thought was a bit shocking. So this last price hike has left me a bit annoyed. We have a magazine with bags of toys every week that we really don’t want. If I wanted to buy my daughter toys, I’d go to a toyshop not a newsagent. D C Thomson – please listen.
Oh, and Beano Club membership – yes we got the great joining gifts, which included a blow up chair and an incredibly funny radio. But Miniminx has not received any email newsletters, as promised on a monthly basis – so yet again, we’re coughing up for plastic goods. That’s not what we signed up for.
Thanks Dennis – it’s a case of take the money and run here isn’t it?
Well Freddie de la Hay is not the only barking character in this collection of chapters I’ve just read.
They are all nuts.
James, he is not so much nutty as he confesses he is unable to get his to work.
Berthea believes she should be placing a sign above her door ‘May Contain Nuts’.
I’m not even going to get started on Oedipus or Terence.
But I have to say, I’m sure Berthea will do her nut once she manages to decipher the conversation she is eavesdropping on…and the rest of us will have to wait a while longer…
Poor, poor Caroline…
When we flew to Casablanca, I was caught up in the whole romance of it all. In the back of my mind was the movie; Humphrey, Ingrid, Sam and all those wonderful characters who smoked and drank throughout the black and white block buster.
Since we don’t have ‘an airline ticket to romantic places’ anymore and we just have e-tickets, I was unable to drool over a slim jim envelope, but still I clung to the confirmation email: HRW to Casablanca. It just sounds fabulous doesn’t it?
We were advised to arrive at terminal two three hours before our flight, not my usual timing, but I didn’t want to take any risks with Miniminx in tow and we’ve had two lucky escapes with Easyjet so I wanted a stress free flight.
We arrived at Casablanca and disembarked to join another flight to Ouarzazate. We waited and waited and waited.
I drank coffee to stay awake. Then more coffee, then more. The next flight remained unannounced and I could tell from my meagre understanding of French it was cancelled on the flightboard, but no one would confirm it.
We continued to wait and then, I drank more coffee. I was unsure whether to laugh or cry when I noticed the very funny little pun which emblazoned the coffee shop. Yes, Jet Laag’s. Well, I suppose it could be worse. What if they called it Sick Baag’s?
There’s a lot to be said for window shopping, especially in the West End. I’m usually agog at Harvey Nichs windows but Selfridges really caught my eye.
These Pandas are not just cute, they’re endangered and very limited edition and exclusive, so it’s nice to see some creative campaigning.
And also a touch of the Tim Burton-gothic style in the realisation of it. Even better, half the shop windows were given over to the installation and it definitely made an impact on me.
I’ve always loved this photo.
It’s beautiful, and while it has it’s own story behind it, it’s the one that has made me want to go and experience a country.
So you’ll have to forgive me in indulging in a few posts over the coming days. They’ll be about our recent trip.
Life will never be the same again, I’ve fulfilled my lifelong ambition of going to Morocco. Simple as it sounds, 9 days and 900 photos later, I can only say I’m still high on the thrill of the whole of the adventure, and also slightly feverish with a neck rash and conjunctivitus…but that’s the least of my worries.
*from the Chris Beetle collection and £1400 for a limited print
Ever have those bizarre conversations that verge on the complete abstract and sublime?
I had one of those this morning with my daughter over the breakfast table.
‘Mummy?’ she said, one eyebrow raised to announce that she had a profound statement coming on.
‘Yeah’ I answered distractedly, somewhere between packing lunch, loading laundry, applying lippy.
‘You know when we went to Formentera on holiday this Summer?’
‘Yeah’ I answer, wondering where this is going to go?
‘Well Dad’s friend went there the week before us.’
‘Oh really, that’s cool’
‘Yeah, and do you know what?’
‘What?’
‘He’s going to Morocco, like we are but a month later.’
‘Oh what a coincidence.’
‘It’s like twitter Mummy…isn’t it?’ she says, very seriously.
‘Umm, how do you mean exactly little one?’
‘Well we followed him and now he’s following us back.’
‘That’s hilarious – how did you work that one out…?’ (I’m wondering if the little minx has sneakily set up her own account).
‘Oh, you know, you keep saying so and so’s following you and you follow them back. That’s twitter isn’t it and it’s like holidays too!’
So there you have it, in the mind of a 9 year old, holidays are just like twitter!
This week’s sneak preview of Corduroy Mansions.
Hmmm, I knew Dee might be ‘one of those’ types. This week she has the barefaced cheek to lie to Caroline about her dinner with James but of course is found out as the star-crossed lovers unravel the mystery behind the last evening’s disaster.
Berthea Snark also reveals her duplicitous streak as we learn that she is writing an expose of a Liberal MP disguised as an unauthorised biography. That in itself would be fine, if only it weren’t for the fact that the MP in question, is actually her own son…
Trips to the doctor, dentist and getting my daughter to take medicine are a major event. I often feel like I’m entering the ring with an indefeatable opponent, with the willpower and strength of a Sumo and a banshee wail to match. I’m not one to admit defeat, so will investigate all options open to me before deciding whether bribery or non-negotiation are the routes to take.
Here’s how I survived this week without even a squeak or a tear…but terms and conditions have been applied!
‘Oh no Mummy, not the dentist.’
I can only say that visits to the dentist have been more like an encounter between the wide mouthed frog and the Alligator. Patently pointless. No amount of nagging or removal of television rights has altered this, but patience and gentle persuasion actually has. It’s taken four visits for my daughter to be able to trust this dentist. The last one physically pulled out a baby tooth a couple of years ago with his bare hands and charged us £200 for the displeasure. We’re now with an NHS dentist, who hasn’t pulled anything or charged us a penny. Miniminx happily opens wide to show off her pearly whites and even though she says she’s shaking afterwards, she was still cracking jokes in the chair. Her last trip was rewarded with a bribe membership to the Beano Club – this one had the potential for a month’s membership to Club Penguin.
Terms and conditions; on no account are you to squeal, misbehave, wriggle or wrestle with the dentist, just be good.
‘I am not, not, not going to have an injection!’
Early years injections always ended in tears (both of us) and usually a fever, so you can imagine this trip for Typhoid and Hep A was not exactly being looked upon as a walk in the park. However, I was determined this time would be different.
SYesterday at 7am, I covered Miniminx’s upper arms with cream and wrapped them in clingfilm. Two hours later were in with the Doctor for our shots. She nearly fell off her chair laughing when Miniminx took off her cardi to reveal her peculiar plasticated arms but there was method to my madness.
‘It’s anaesthetic cream so she won’t be afraid of the injection.’ I grimaced smiled
‘Can you give me your arm?’ said the Doctor.
‘Yes, but I can’t look at the needle’ said Miniminx. I was surprised at her easy cooperation.
‘I’m just going to put the needle in.’
‘Ok.’ I was bracing myself for the blood curdling scream.
Silence.
‘It’s a bit scratchy.’
‘All done’
You couldn’t hear a pin drop!
‘Your turn Mummy!’
Another month of membership to Club Penguin. Plus my nerves and hearing are still intact.
Terms and conditions; on no account are you to squeal, misbehave, wriggle or wrestle with the doctor, just be good.
‘Oh I hate tablets! I’m not taking them!’
I now have to coax Miniminx to take anti-malaria tablets for the next 18 days – at great cost I might add, about £200 for the both of us, but getting such a serious illness is a risk I just don’t want to take. So now my bank balance is really suffering and I’ve had enough of bribery.
As the Doctor starts to explain that the tablets for malaria are just one a day she then finds the children’s dose is three tablets. I spot a glint in Miniminx’s eye. She’s calculating her bonanza for taking 54 doses. I turn to look at her with eyes of steel. She can not out-psych me on this one.
‘Hmmm, malaria is really dangerous isn’t it?’ I say to the Doctor.
‘Yes, there’s a fact sheet on it.’
‘Oooh, nasty….ewk…yuck…we definitely wouldn’t want to get that.’ I say with eyebrows raised.
I pass the crib sheet to Miniminx.
‘Darling you really must take these tablets. It’s a nasty disease you can get from a mosquito bite. Have a look at this if you don’t understand.’
She read it.
And read it again.
By the tone of my voice she knows it’s non-negotiable.
‘Yes Mummy, I promise I will.’
Terms and conditions; on no account are you to bargain, haggle, nag or pester me, just be good – final.
Oh, if you want to know what cream we used, it’s called EMLA – apparently popular among users of Botox and fillers – and about £2 at the chemist without a prescription.
