There will be hardly any speech marks in my posts ever again, because I am becoming increasingly unsure of when to use them. I have lost touch with the grammatical world, and it scares me, and so I am just going to back away from all of the rules that confuse me and just IGNORE it all. So, forgive me if things look a little non-edited. It is because they are non-edited. I might just use bold a lot. And maybe more italics.
My parents had their 49th wedding anniversary today. They are lovely. Here is a photo of them in Turkey, in their respective swim suit and funky holiday shirt:
Still married. Through teeth loss, four pesky children, campervan ownership and a vegetable patch, still they love each other. Apparently the Prime Minister of New Zealand came up and congratulated them, but I think that was less about the wedding anniversary and more about them being in the right place at the right time. Which brings me nicely around to my next Startling Bit Of News.
I saw The Queen Of England and Wales today, being driven with her husband through the Bayswater streets, looking not at all bothered. I got a bit excited when I realised the policemen on motor bikes (two at the front, two from behind) were not stopping traffic for something as dull as a car accident, but for the Queen of England and Wales. I waved, and jumped up quite a bit, and pointed out to all of the tired-looking tourists that the Queen of England and Wales was in that car. I don’t think they understood.
And last weekend, as you know, we went to the country. I only did a little bit of the dishes (rinsing the plates, a lot of mumbling about whether there was anything I could do to help, etc) and a fair amount of apologising for the Hugo Boss Sunglasses Incident. Which went like this:
1. Custard is excited about being in a new house
2. Custard is feeling a bit like he needs some attention
3. Custard spies some Hugo Boss sunglasses
4. Custard bends the frames and twists them until the lens pops out
5. Custard announces to everyone that he has broken my glasses (of course, they weren’t mine, as I have Marc Jacobs sunglasses) thus preventing me from shoving them down the back of the couch and denying all knowledge.
But other than that, and the one broken wine glass, and the screaming, they were mostly lovely, and the country was nice, if a little bit lacking in shops.
And then we get back here, and it is all a little bit cold and the flat is a bit tiny and there isn’t a helicopter landing pad in our backyard like where we were staying (yes! they had one!) so I went to the movies to cheer myself up. And what a horrible horrible mistake that was, because I went and subjected myself to Eat Pray Love. Gah! So foolish! So foolish. I came out with all of my fingernails bitten down to bleeding stubs. Julia made me do it. She made me eat my own fingers. Because it dulled the pain of watching her have middle class existential dramas about NOTHING! And going to an Ashram to do NOTHING! And to fill my head up with words like guru gitas and with scenes involving her communing with elephants! And to watch her make sexy eyes with a plate of spagetti! These are the lessons I learned from my night with Julia:
1. Hoops earrings are maybe worth trying because they looked nice against her blonde hair.
2. However, blonde is not always best, Ms Roberts. You look anaemic.
3. When on holiday to exotic climes, do not buy the local clothes and wear them because you will look like a midwife in batik scrubs (Bali, obvs), or an old school librarian (Italy) or a Gap year student who is well past her Gap year (India).
4. When you are wealthy, and successful, with a nice husband and a nice apartment, and you feel like weeping for no real reason, do not leave your nice husband. Go and be a volunteer, or talk to your doctor about a SAD light lamp. Go running. Little things. It is not the end of the world, spoilt white privileged lady. We all feel like that sometimes.
5. When Javier Bardem loves you, honestly, LET HIM. Yes, his face is a little wonky, but do not go mental and tell him that it will make your life unbalanced. Because it makes your audience EAT THEIR OWN FINGERTOPS IN ANNOYANCE.
I know that it isn’t actually Julia Roberts I should be disapproving of, but really. C’mon Julia. You let me down. What an outrageous pile of dogshit.
Gratuitous shot of Baby Ned to calm me down:
Very funny, you just confirmed all my fears about the Julia Roberts film. And I love the picture of Ned. Take the kids to Despicable Me instead, it’s funny for grown-ups and they will like it.
Oh Jodes, I also saw that pile of cack and although I found it butt-searingly boring, I also kind of enjoyed it in a swoony kind of way. Your review, however, is the best one I have read. More film reviews please Jodes!!!
Saw the movie last night with a work “girls night”. Completely agree with you on all of the above, including hoop earrings. Would they look as good on us? I certainly do not have Julia’s jawline. I still don’t know what she expected to find in Italy, India and Bali?
Thanks for dropping by at my blog. You are right our youngests are no more than 4 weeks apart I think.
As to the cinema – i’ve not been to anything past a U for at least 7 years. Wont be changing that to see what sounds like a heap of poo.
Just found that Eat Pray Love is listed as ‘family friendly’ in the Time Out kids guide this week….what family would that be?
Ned Noodle has become BLONDE! I guess I should have seen that coming, given your other blondies and your own blonde self, but STILL. (I guess it ain’t for nothing that I am the foxyMORON) Also, he is looking a bit Noah-esque, no?
Great post as usual !
Love your blog. And I suppose I also have a tiny little crush on you too, not in a creepy way, just an “admiring from afar” way; I live in San Diego, CA, although I hail from that Most Stylish of all places, New York. I prefer SD, but then I don’t prioritize “style” to nearly the extent that you do. I think it’s – paradoxically? – unStylish to be preoccupied with Style. You want to come by it naturally or eschew it altogether, is what I think. Anyway, there’s a valid sense of the word “Style” that refers to something that we all have, not something that some of us have and others don’t, or that we have to varying extents. Anyway … my admiration/mini-crush: I just love articulate, funny women who have a bit of an edge to them, and if your blog is any indication, you are certainly all of that. And you’re kinda cute too. Other blog readers, don’t judge me harshly; just let me be, a male admirer of TH who understands that compliments fuel the writer in all of us, and I couldn’t NOT compliment this particular writer. (back to TH:) Maybe if I write again I’ll tell you (a) what I would have done with the apostrophe-challenged teacher, and (b) how I happened to come across your extremely entertaining, life-affirming blog in the first place. – j
Look out JerryB, Mark will don his purple bike pants, work up a sweat on the exercycle, then hunt you with his bow-staff or frickin 12 gauge. Failing that he’ll watch a bit of telly and leave you to your admiring from afar.
Tutak – I kid you not about the horror and depravity of that film. It was some kind of penance for some bad thing I did in a former life. AVOID AT ALL COSTS. But then, everyone knew that already, didn’t they?
Jo – I may well write some more film reviews. I did, after all, study Swedish Film at university. As you do.
Belinda- as soon as I find my hoop earrings I shall report back. They are lost, no doubt squirrelled away with the boys’ other treasures, like rotting grass and stolen coinage, piled high at the ends of their beds, obstructing their way to the toilet at night. Which may explain the wee smell that refuses to budge. Anyhoo, I am sure they would work with my brassy fake blondness.
Betty M – thank you likewise. I did enjoy your blog.will add it to the blogroll as soon as I remember how to.
Foxy – yes, neddie has turned yellow, with the exact same cowlicks as Noah. Hopefully better hearing though, if you know what I mean.
jerryB – well, thanks! So nice to say those things, especially the kinda cute part. I was, but now I am too old. I have to hand that baton onto the children. SIGH
ms Fedora- mr mark took the latter option, like we knew he would. Hard to get noticed around here, honestly.