Sunday Summary

This week, I have mostly been...

Recovering from Easter

Maybe it's old age (...it's almost definitely old age) but I came away from a particularly gluttonous weekend (in a good way) hankering, actually physically craving, greens. I've always been pretty good on the green-eating front -- with the exception of those 20 years of my life in which I took after my father and refused to eat peas (I still won't touch the mushy variety but I'm partial to petit pois). But craving veg to the point where I ran to Sainsbury's and stocked up on all the greenery I could fit in my trolley? That's new.

I've been loosely following David Bez's admirable Salad Pride blog recently, and it's very tempting to follow his example and go green/raw especially when you see a tasty treat like this posted:

But then I find one of these little blighters in my treat tin and all resolve goes out of the window:

Eh. Everything in moderation.

That said, in just over two months (egads) I'm performing onstage in my rock 'n 'pop choir's annual celebration of awesomeness concert (OK, ignore that strikethrough, it really is going to be awesome). And I'd like to look 'stage-ready' (i.e. slightly less stumpy than I did last year). 

So maybe subbing in one of those Creme Eggs for one of these:

{I'm really trying to like these blighters but they're so temperamental...!}

wouldn't be a bad idea. Except Creme Eggs are so much easier to get into.

Watching | Jamaica Inn-comprehensible

The Beeb in all its wisdom crammed the entire novel into three consecutive days' viewing so I missed episodes two and three as broadcast, but have since caught up with episode two and am going to delve into ep three later...*. 

The BBC came under considerable criticism after it was deemed that much of the dialogue was incomprehensible -- here and here :

I found this wasn't necessarily the case for all the actors, mostly just the drunken menfolk (notably Joss Merlyn). I'm sure Sean Harris is a fine actor but he was just not right as Joss. Joss is supposed to be a huge, swarthy, commanding brute of a man with a mop of dark hair, bright white teeth and dark, leathery skin. Not a mumbling, shaven-haired next-coming-of Robert Carlyle. 

Likewise, Mary's Aunt Patience is supposed to be a limp, grey-haired, brutalised mouse of a woman but Joanne Whalley plays her with a lot more gumption -- and red hair -- than she ought to be credited with. (Not that Patience having more gumption is a bad thing but it negates the influence Mary has on events and the frustration she feels that her aunt is being maltreated.)

The BBC have taken some considerable liberties with du Maurier's text in this adaptation, not only in the casting but also the plot, undoubtedly to move the story along within a limited time frame, but oftentimes this has meant compromising key plot points.

That said, there was definitely some lovely, filthy chemistry between Mary Yellan (a nicely ballsy Jessica Findlay Brown latterly of Downton Abbey) and Jem Merlyn (a splendid Matthew McNulty). And where the Mary of the book is also quite limp and a little passive, Mary in this adaptation knows her own mind. 

You go, girlfriend.

Reading | The Trial. 

STILL. This book won't go away.

But I've also started reading Leanne Shapton's memoir, Swimming Studies, after seeing a recommendation for it, randomly, on artist Lisa Congdon's Instagram (quick segue: check out Congdon's blog, artwork and Instagram):

In Swimming Studies (which I'm only a short way through) Shapton documents her time as a competitive swimmer -- a very different lifestyle from that of the casual swimmer (hello, that would be me) and features some of her swim-inspired artwork. 

If anything drives me back into the pool on a more regular basis it'll be this book. And maybe this Guardian Swimming blog, just discovered via my friends over at Did You Swim Today on Facebook.

Playing | with my new baby

No, not a flesh-and-blood offspring-type-baby, that'd be a step too far even in the realms of QB credibility -- but a technology baby.

A small (positive) change in fortune, plus five years of accumulating Nectar points, plus a well-timed special offer on the Sainsbury's website, meant I could treat myself to this little nugget:

This be the Samsung Galaxy Tab 3 (16GB, 8-inch, red edition). It's a beauty, it really is. I've always been about five years behind the rest of western society when it comes to embracing new tech and trends but this seemed too good to pass up. Start-up was far easier than I could imagine -- I synced the tablet with my Google account and it automatically downloaded all the apps I've bought on Google Play, even the paid ones. Nicely done.

I've downloaded the BBC iPlayer and 4OD apps so * (yes, that's the asterisk reference from above) I could watch Jamaica Inn on it (not to mention old eps of Nathan Barley and the excellent, stellar Easter episode of Rev. starring Ralph Fiennes as the Bishop of London, and, yes, apparently that was Liam Neeson as the jogging 'God'. Whoa. Mind blown.) 

I'm hoping to download a few programmes to watch on the plane to New York in September (gosh, have I mentioned that lately?) -- for long-haul flights I can see the logic of e-books, but I still can't bring myself to read one. Paperbacks and in-flight films all the way, babies.

I've also downloaded the very sweet photo editing app by Elsie + Emma of the blog A Beautiful Mess:

Y...eah, I don't think I've exploited A Beautiful Mess app's full capabilities yet but it's so darn cute that, given time, I certainly will.

I had downloaded The Sims: Freeplay but after I couldn't even fathom out how to buy my poor Sim a toilet and get her to use it I gave up and uninstalled the game. 

...Good job I don't have a flesh-and-blood baby, really.

Amusing myself on Photoshop

After my excitement over Frozen last week and after I'd finally exorcised Love is an Open Door from my earworm chamber (in spite of my friend Clare alerting me to this brilliant video -- this couple's little girl is priceless to watch):

...I was greatly amused to clock the name of a street near our office. And so I felt the need to create this little homage:

{Apologies to Disney... I had a quiet ten minutes earlier, thought this was a great idea. ...}

You are welcome.

Voici! Weekly Weblinks

Last week in my haste to post (post-haste?) I neglected to mention that thousands (90,000!) of archive British Pathé films have been added to YouTube. Some have been dubbed by John Humphrys, some are silent, but many still have their original soundtrack. Genuinely delightful to discover. Especially gems such as this:

Oh. And this:

{Why, yes, that is a young Arnie.}

Comic Sans has a Neue look. It still makes my skin crawl a bit.

One in five children read on a tablet

Meals recreated from famous books

{Guess the book!}

15 Writers' Bedrooms 

{Henry David Thoreau's minimalist bedroom}

NYC Tips and Etiquette (I'll be taking note)

A mother on 'Why I Read My Daughter's Diary' -- alarmingly poignant

And finally, how I learned to love these young Royals -- the Royal Tour in Pictures

Happy week, friends. Rejoice -- there's another bank holiday on the horizon...

Sunday Summary Monday Missive

Hello to you!

Yes, 'fraid your weekly dose of Bethy's Brain Deposits has been shunted back a day but good things come to those who wait, n'est-ce pas, especially if you've been observing Lent and yesterday was the first day in two months that chocolate has entered your digestive system...

Anyway.

This week (and a bit), I have mostly been...

Reading | The Trial (still)

The clue to the ease of reading of this novel is in the title...

Finishing | The End of Everything

An enjoyable yarn, though everything fell into place around Evie's disappearance much too easily; and Evie's family needn't have got the police involved at all because Evie's best friend Lizzie was apparently psychic enough to dream and sense Evie's fate and whereabouts. Or something. Still, I recommend The End of Everything as well as Dare Me, Abbott's catty cheerleader novel which reads a little like Bring it On Gone Bad. But in a good way.

Watching | Frozen

and Untouchable

Both very different films. Both superb. I don't need to roll out the plot intricacies of Frozen for your good selves, do I. ;-) It did remind me greatly of Return to Oz in parts -- the frozen landscapes, Sven the reindeer/the Gump, the lavishness of Elsa's/Mombi's palace..., Marshmallow/the Nome King...

And my heart belongs to Olaf the snowman. Sven's cute 'n' all, but Olaf won me over. (Closely followed by Oaken.)

Untouchable is something else. Based on a true story and a true friendship, it focuses on the unlikely friendship and mutual respect of two very different men: millionaire Philippe, paralysed in a skydiving accident, and his reluctant new live-in carer, Driss. It's French, subtitled, and its lead man, Francois Cluzet has more than a touch of Dustin Hoffman about him. It's also charming, funny, and has a delicious soundtrack by Ludovico Einaudi, one of my favourite contemporary composers. Win-win.

Also watching | Vimeo shorts

These ones caught my discerning, short-film-loving eye (those Vimeo staff have good taste):

 
Les Pyramides d'Égypte from Kheops Pyramides on Vimeo.



Still Life from ZANDRAK on Vimeo.


Returning | to Facebook

All right so maybe I did clock up my first live post in seven weeks at 8am on Easter Morning, as if I couldn't wait to break the Lenten fast. The post simply said Happy Easter -- I didn't try to encapsulate seven weeks in one post, don't you worry. What would be the point of that, eh?

And it was lovely to be welcomed back onto the platform! While my FB Fast may not have been the most enlightening move a person has ever made on a journey through Lent, it has given me some much-needed perspective. As has deleting every post and almost every photo I've posted in seven long FB years. I just don't need to be that present on Facebook any more.

And yes, admittedly, there is a dreg of truth in this meme:

but I see nothing excessively self-indulgent in making a pinboard of one's aesthetic pleasures. We're appreciating the inherent beauty and creativity in the world -- is how I justify spending hours poring over another 'Nostalgia from the 1980s' board that has somehow managed to unlock a gallon of suppressed memories. 

Some more welcome than others.

{Stuff of NIGHTMARES.}

And now... for your Weekly Weblinks

Following on from last week's post on 4WAAF {Four Weddings and a Funeral}, BBC Radio 4's 'The Reunion' programme focused on the film in this broadcast

Hesperus Press reveal plans for new-look Little Women 

University of Leeds' flummoxing restaurant signage

Baz Lurhmann's stage production of Strictly Ballroom opens in Sydney, as reported by a journalist who needs to work on their fact-checking skills... [I would still see this, especially to witness The Flying Doctors' own Robert Grubb as Barry Fife...]

The BBC's new adaptation of Daphne Du Maurier's Jamaica Inn begins tonight -- here, and here (for a special BBC blog feature)

And finally...

I'm in love with Mini Moderns and their Dungeness-themed furnishings -- check out their Look Book here

C'est tout -- a la prochaine...

Sunday Summary

This week, I have mostly been…

Erm… good question. What have I done this week to make me feel proud?*

* lyrics cribbed liberally from Heather Small

Ah. That’s it.

Reading (still!)

I finally finished Jamaica Inn – talk about a plot twist! A shame that young Mary succumbed to the love of a slightly underhand man at the end when she could have taken on the family farm and made a new life for herself… but never mind. I’m sure DdM knew what she was doing!

I then picked up How They Met (and other stories) by David Levithan and managed to read that in two days (less dense text, less violent subject matter) – it’s an anthology of Levithan’s short stories written from his high school years onwards, all anecdotal episodes on relationships, unlikely and likely pairings, all written with his trademark taut observations and smart literary style. There was only one story among them that didn’t work as well for me – Without Saying – too many shifts in viewpoint that I lost track. But all in all a worthwhile read as a precedent for Levithan’s later independent work.

I'm now reading The Pursuit of Love {Nancy Mitford}. It's a gorgeous Penguin edition again.

{my copy is substantially less battered}

Cooking

Still metaphorically and literally burnt from my last foodie experience* it was with some hesitancy that I embarked on my latest cooking endeavour… but I’m mighty glad I did. (And besides, the scar is barely there. Move on, QB, move on.)

I have a slow-cooker, a small one suitable for one-or-two-dish meals, and it’s remained moderately underused over the years with the exception of a couple of forays into slow-cooked rice pudding

and beef stew. With dumplings.

My best friend, however, is a convert, an evangelist, for the slow-cooker – so I thought I’d be brave and give it more of a workout. Nats (aforementioned BF) invited me to join a couple of Facebook groups on which users share SC recipes and advice – and I latched onto the simplest recipe there, gammon slow-cooked in Coke.

And it was DELICIOUS.

I did make the fatal error of using Diet Coke – full-fat Coke contains the requisite sugars to caramelise the meat (mmm… caramelise, one of my favourite words…) but I learned that lesson. After eight sturdy hours in the SC the gammon was tender, tasty and lasted for at least three days of meals. (Gammon, egg and chips was a must…)

Literally (and I do mean literally!) all you do is place a joint of gammon in the slow-cooker, pour a can of Coke (or Dr Pepper!) over it, leave the gammon on for eight hours et voila. Consider me converted.

I’ve currently got a slightly more complicated but equally exciting recipe on the go – sausage casserole with mango chutney. It’ll be gone 8pm before I get to try it but that’s half the fun of owning a SC: the anticip… ation.

Writing

After the pressure-cooker experience of NaNoWriMo, which I undertook in 2012 and decided against doing in 2013 owing to other commitments, I wasn’t sure how I’d get my latest novel up and running again.

And then I glanced over this article, bookmarked by Susannah Conway over on her blog – which advised that to develop (or in my case redevelop) a regular writing habit, you should attempt to write 500 words a day. Simplez.

With my life the way it is at the moment (get up at 6am, leave for the train to work at 6.30am, get back at 6pm, eat, swim or sing, collapse…) I needed to better construct my time in order to fit in the ‘more writing time’ that I promised myself on NYE.

And I think I’ve found a formula that works: half an hour a day at the speed at which I write, along to the Sarah’s Key soundtrack, renders me over 800 words a day.

Of course most of these words are doggone nonsense but hey. I’m writing again.

YAY!

Swimming

I’ve also taken a slightly different approach to my swimming this year, and my motto at the moment is little and often. I do have a target in mind when I get in the pool – ideally over 40 lengths (which equals about 40-45 minutes’ pool time at the rate I swim with a quick break every ten lengths). I’ve already got myself back up to 50 lengths.

I’ve also joined the Swimmers’ Support Group on Facebook (more commonly known as Did You Swim Today?). I was initially cautious about joining, thinking my 40-length triumphs would stack up pretty poorly against the open swimmers and the competitors. But actually, the group is great, supportive, non-competitive. Occasionally there’s a difference of opinion but everyone on there just loves to swim. I feel at home.

And besides, my 50 lengths will soon be 60 again… and then 64 for the mile…

Rewatching | Rebecca (because one du Maurier fix a week is not enough)

Mrs Danvers, you're freaking me out.

And now for the gubbins from the realms of the interweb...

Gillian Flynn rewrites the ending of GONE GIRL for the film -- here and here

And speaking of Gillians who write... Actor Gillian Anderson writes sci-fi series (now, ordinarily I frown upon 'celebrities' writing books but for GA I will make an exception as she's fabulous) -- here and here

This story of the late Japanese soldier who lived in a jungle following WW2 reminds me so much of Michael Morpurgo's excellent Kensuke's Kingdom

Two links from newly discovered emporium of great thought-fodder, Brain Pickings (thanks, Jo, for the tipoff!):

• My Ideal Bookshelf: Portraits of Famous Creators through the spines of their favourite books
• How to Be Alone | Watch this great little film and feel reassured/inspired

These parents recreate famous films with cardboard... and their baby

These loop portrait photographs by Romain Laurent are trippy (and ultimately brilliant)

Behind the scenes on an underwater photoshoot

And finally ... there's a time and a plaice -- enjoy this puntastic Twitter exchange between a Sainsbury's employee and a customer

Sunday Summary

This week, I have mostly been…

Back to work

Yes, after those delectable two weeks of comparatively nada I was back at the coalface this week. But ya know? It was good to be back. Mostly. No, it really was. If only to see my lovely workmates and to spend a very comical half-hour telling truly bad jokes while we worked.

Not sure how it started but here are a few of our gems:

I used to work in a shoe shop but I got the boot

I used to work in a bag outlet but they gave me the sack.

I used to work for Heinz but I got canned.

I used to work in pyrotechnics but I got fired << OK that one, I just made up as I can’t remember the lead-up. But you get the gist.

Reading | Jamaica Inn by Daphne du Maurier

The BBC are broadcasting a new adaptation of Jamaica Inn over Easter and I picked up a battered 1960s Penguin edition:

in a second-hand bookshop on Charing Cross Road last winter so it seemed timely to choose it as my second book of 2014. I love Rebecca – and I’m also loving Jamaica Inn. No one writes Westcountry suspense like du Maurier. The innkeeper of Jamaica, Joss Merlyn, the antagonist, is a beast and a bully (and very possibly a murderer) but I’m quite enjoying his brother, Jem…

The heroine, Mary, sent to the inn after her mother’s death to live with her downtrodden aunt Patience, could do with a little bit more gumption but she’s still fairly fearless.

Causing myself untold damage

***WARNING: CONTAINS MODERATELY GRIM INJURY PHOTOS***

OK, so strictly this should have gone on last week’s Summary but I was still in shock and not sure how the injury would pan out so…

Yep. Last Sunday evening, in my mission to cook and bake more, I set about making a batch of carrot and coriander soup for lunches during the week. 

It was all going so well.

I chopped the veg. Fried the onions, made stock, put the carrots and coriander in for the requisite time to simmer.

Here’s where I went wrong: impatient as I am, the stick blender wasn’t gouging and liquidifying the carrots quite as quickly as I might have hoped. So I assembled the jug blender. All good. I even put the lid on properly. 

And then I lifted up the jug. And something was clearly amiss with the assembly of the blender, as the entire contents spilled out from the bottom of the jug, all over my kitchen surfaces (yes, all of them…) and over my arm. Boiling-hot soup ON MY ARM.

{via here}

Ow does not begin to cover it.

Now, common sense would decree that one sticks one’s scalding flesh under cold water for at least ten minutes.

But I had one of those dilemmas: see to poor, seared flesh… or clean the kitchen?

I cleaned up the kitchen.

I did intermittently hold my arm under the cold tap and later spray it with Burn-Eze so it didn’t blister. But come the next day, it did look a little bit like this (brace yourselves):

I’ve spent most of this week disgusting people with the scar, following various friends’ advice, and then smearing the arm with Sudocrem and lavender. And it’s improving, it really is. (Again, brace yourselves...):

{the void is where my watch was...}

I’m a disaster area (especially when it comes to sharp things and hot things). Miraculously I’ve only landed myself in hospital twice with injuries: the first time I was five and I fell out of a tree at my cousins’ house on Mother’s Day (sorry, Mummy). The second time was twelve years ago when I sliced into my left index finger with a scalpel at work.

My body is testament to the fact I should just not touch things that might hurt me.

About nine years ago I assembled a cheap set of shelves from Argos (admittedly under the influence of Cointreau) one New Year’s Eve. Some months later they collapsed and a vase fell from the shelves and broke on my head.

Later that year, very possibly, I forget, I scalded the tip of my nose trying to steam my face. I looked like Rudolph for a good few days.

Two days before I was due to be a bridesmaid for my cousin in 2006, I sat back against the bulb of a clip light attached to the headboard of my bed and burned my shoulder. Can’t tell you how alluring exposed, burnt flesh … isn’t.

About two years ago I sliced my finger and thumb at work while cutting a bagel.

And last week I knackered my knee on soft play equipment.

But never mind. It’s all part and parcel of being human, and making inadvertent contact with solids (and liquids).

Right?

Urgh.

Moving on. Here is a Minion singing a bit of the Fox Song to help you unsee those photos:

Rewatching | Stepping Out

This rather excellent film from 1991 about an amateur tap dance class has still (I mean, what the chuff, still?!) not been released on DVD. And I had a hankering to watch it. 

So I rigged up an old video player (y'know, an actual player of videotapes you have to, like, actually rewind and stuff) to revisit the wonder that is Liza Minnelli as tap teacher Mavis Turner coaching her mixed bag of adult amateurs to variety-show greatness. The film also stars Shelley Winters, Bill Irwin, Ellen Greene and Jane Krakowski.

It did not disappoint. Oftentimes you can rewatch a film you loved as a child or teenager and the lustre is lost. Admittedly some of the performances and lines are a little cheesy now (step forward, Mavis' grunting muso boyfriend Patrick -- "it's great you got a hobby, but this is REAL LIFE!") but it's a sweet film that Paramount should definitely release on DVD. DEFINITELY. Especially since my videotape's a bit wibbly with overuse. And Liza is genuinely brilliant.

Found on the interweb this week

Is the tide turning against internet dating? (Please, yes.) Here and here

Finland Post Office issue stamp in honour of Tove Jansson

Punctuation IS important!

Life lessons learned from playing The Sims (all of which are WRONG!)

And finally ... a bucket of sloths.