Monday, 19th March, 2007

I've been in hiding - drawbridge raised, portcullis lowered, me alone and morose in my turret. I have to admit that I allowed the Animal Control Officer incident to affect me unreasonably and change my world from one full of good people waiting to shower their goodness upon me to one where the Council Gestapo lurk in wait should I even dare to cross the moat and make a dash to Woolworths for essential supplies. So the dogs and I have been huddled up watching The Sopranos, Series 1 - 5 (around sixty hours of viewing, I believe) and wishing we had a Tony Soprano in our lives to deal with the likes of Animal Control Officers.

We also watched "I Capture the Castle" again, the movie based on Dodie Smith's novel, with the darling Bill Nighy as Mortmain, the blocked writer. I love this era, the years between the two world wars, when folk enjoyed a certain reckless freedom. The art, music and fashions of those two decades are very appealing, a time when eccentricity and frivolity flourished, as though people somehow knew that this peaceful phase would be short lived and they had to cram in their fun before Hitler's shadow fell across their lives. London Charlestoned while Berlin goosestepped and the Bright Young Things laughed and popped champagne before the impending slaughter.

I hear that there is a proposal to put an "R" rating on all movies where someone is shown on screen smoking. Considering the apparent obesity crisis perhaps the same ruling should apply to any movie where people are shown eating - the making of The Sopranos must have involved several tons of pasta as the boys talked business over one fattening feast after another.

"Two Fat Ladies" ("add another pint of cream, Clarissa") would definitely be classified as culinary porn.