Clear Days

Hot wasabi flavoured rice crackers are lush. You know what I mean by rice crackers, like heavy-duty communion wafers. Good munchies.

Watched a brilliant film last night with Brenda Blethyn, Auntie Brenda, not my auntie, but you know the story, Austen's friend's auntie.
So, the film was called 'On a Clear Day'. It was everything I love about British cinema, real, fresh, no glamour, just proper people and genuine situations.

The story was about a Glaswegian shipbuilder who was made redundant after 30 something years in the industry. You saw a ship being launched. For all my concern about the environment, there was something stirring about seeing this magnificent ship sliding into the water.

And I love Auntie Brenda. She will be 61 in a couple of days' time and she is so pretty and so unlike some of those Hollywood actresses who have constant work done on themselves to transform them into grim parodies of women.

There was a point in the film where Brenda's husband, dealing with the psychological nightmare of redundancy towards the end of his working life, is training to swim the English Channel. Billy Boyd, the cheeky little hobbit, is one of his 'gang', his supporters, a group who look up to the character, Frank. Billy accompanies Frank out to sea during the training and nearly drowns, Frank rescues him and I had one of those moments that strike me so often these days. Watching Frank do the classic lifesaving techniques that we were taught at school made me think yet again how unbelievable it is that we learned so much.
I was certainly not one for ever being engaged in the learning process, and yet time and time again I find myself realising, 'wow, I remember that from school.'

And as though echoing a point I noted yesterday, there is a Chinese man, Chan, who is terrorised in his chippie.
He becomes one of Frank's little band of supporters, because both are avid readers, and when he meets with the other, all jaws drop. They look at him and say, 'I had no idea you could speak English.' He has the same Scottish accent and perfect English as the rest of them. When he starts to actually talk to his customers and suppliers in the chippie, things improve greatly.

Last night's 'Most Haunted' was from the Spitbank Fort that you can see from Southsea. It is a mile out to sea in the Solent. So for me, even more fascinating than usual. Not many ghosts to be had, only one person had ever died in this place, constructed in 1867 to protect Portsmouth and yet never needed in time of war.
Ironically, the young man who did die, was blown up in 1909 by explosives that were there to protect.
Since we are so behind with Most Haunteds too, I couldn't help wondering whether the team were filming this when I saw David Wells on Elm Grove last June, and yet the crew seemed to be wrapped up as though for a blizzard. On t'other hand, it was mighty cold in June when I was over, and way too warm in November.

One of our Canadian comedians, thinking back to my post on humour, Rick Mercer, recently caned a rather stupid journo. He did it brilliantly, and should you wish to read it, here is the link. Just so that you realise I don't spend my time wistfully watching old BBC comedies and British films and wishing I were back in Blighty.

And at some point, my own dear kitten will pick up my use of the word 'our' and cane ME for it.