C is for Cinema

Last night I watched Mrs. Henderson Presents on NetFlix – without the benefit of a glass of wine – and thoroughly enjoyed it anyway.  I love Judi Dench.  Bob Hoskins was great but I couldn’t get Roger Rabbit out of my head whenever there was a close up.  And the story was an interesting one, supposedly based on fact.  But then, what story isn’t supposedly based on fact.  It’s simply a matter of how loose or solid the base.

A 1930’s London widow with lots of time and money on her hands decides to restore an old theatre and feature continuous nude musical revues.  Tastefully done, of course.  There’s lots of witty banter and some good laughs, plus bits of great musical routines that made me wish I could see the whole thing.

Now that I’ve watched one movie I quite liked from beginning to end I’m all optimistic about seeing more and Netflix is good to make recommendations.  Although how they come up with the connections is a little baffling sometimes.  It could be simply another movie with one of the same actors and a completely different genre.

I’ve worked the weekend and survived it, and my house is delightfully clean!  (C is for Clean with a Capitol C).  Hard to be unhappy about either of those things.  Having someone else clean my house is one of the smartest things I’ve ever decided to do. If you haven’t ever come home to a spotless fresh smelling squeaky clean house, you really should splurge and try it, at least once.  Best feeling ever.  And then you need to sit down amidst all that clean and treat yourself to some cinematography.  I would call that bliss.

And having three more working days until taking several weeks off is a pretty heady feeling too.  Perhaps I was some kind of royalty in a past life.  Being pampered seems to come so naturally to me.  Makes you wonder.

Filling In the Blanks

Once again I’ve managed to skip a week of prompts and decided to play catch up.  So it’s not a full-blown cop-out,  merely a semi blown one.  I am very good at those, and as everyone knows, one should always do what one does best.

You have ten minutes to interview a celebrity.  Who will it be?  I have no idea, but if I’m actually doing this it is under duress or at gunpoint or because of a death threat.  But if any celebrity would like to interview me, I’m fine with that.  The ten minute time limit is good, since then there would be only one question, because God knows I can blather away about being completely unknown and without any real talents or accomplishments for way longer than that.  I’d pose for pictures too.  And look for myself in the tabloids to see what kind of garbage lies they had to come up with to make me interesting.

List the cities you would consider moving to in the future.  Aquitaine or any similar seaside resort in the south of France.  Puerto Baquerizo Moreno in the Galapagos.  Edinburgh Scotland.  London England.  Marrakech in Morocco.  Montego Bay, Jamaica.  The list is endless, really.  Get me an atlas.

What is the best live musical performance you’ve attended?   Strangely enough I’d have to say Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.  With Donny Osmond.  Way back whenever it was at the Jubilee.  I don’t get out much.

What are your favourite things to photograph?  Ha.  You’re asking a grandmother.  One guess.

Ever won a contest, giveaway, lottery?  Nothing big, but I’ve won small things.  The one that immediately comes to mind is from a sort of field trip I was on with the Women’s Institute to which my mom belonged.  I can’t remember why I was tagging along, and I could not now name the place.  It was some kind of rehabilitation centre.  Not for criminals, but maybe for the mentally ill.  I remember being mildly excited to get a glimpse of real live crazy people.  If that was even what they were.  I was young, and obviously not paying attention.  We were given a tour, and one of the therapeutic activities that was pointed out to us was the manufacturing of stuffed animals by the patients.  Or inmates.  The resident nutballs.  There was either a door prize, or some kind of draw, and that’s what I won.  A little fuzzy yellow and white thing that could have been a dog sitting up on its haunches looking rather pathetic and sad.  I named him Delmore.  The first three letters were the backward initials of my current boyfriend, of whom I wanted more.  Who says teenagers aren’t deep.

What was your childhood dream job?  Marine Biologist.  But when I found out it involved dealing with oceans and aquatic creatures, I changed my mind.