The theme of the past few days is hard to describe without sounding cheesy (as much as I like cheese, particularly from Mellis) or yawnworthy. Let's just say that people who have lived a long life and the exercise of thinking about life as a little old lady cheered me up no end. And if that sounds odd, some of the following may explain things a little.
Image from Critikat.com
I love my local FOPP (record/DVD shop): there's nothing like walking along the shelves and picking up a DVD you would never have stumbled across while browsing online. FOPP was once at danger of being closed altogether -the fate that its saviour, HMV, is now suffering on the big scale and book chains like Borders (not around in the UK any more) and Waterstones (gone soon if we don't do anything) know all too well. Save your local shoppery - even if it's a quid more than online. Please?
The film that caught my rheumy, post-work eye on the way home (ingredients for a delicious dinner on my back, brain in need of entertainment, preferably food-related) was Mid-August Lunch (Pranzo di ferragosto (2008)): an Italian low-budget affair starring no less than four ladies in their 90s! The story (based on the film maker's life) is too simple to be summarised here - it might put you off. Let's just say that a man, his mother and three elderly ladies are spending two days together in slightly unusual circumstances: five strong personalities who are skeptical about each other, but soon find common ground in their zest for the good things in life. And how could they not? Rome, wine, food (lots of pasta), summer, and a feast day conspire to set the atmosphere.
The most wonderful aspect are the four elderly ladies: they are full of life and authentic spirit - none of them is a professional actress, and much of the script is improvised. In the Special Features they talk about how the unexpected invitation to make the movie was a gift to these advanced years of their lives. A gift, indeed. To be enjoyed with a glass of wine and a large portion of baked pasta (the star of the film).
Recipes (and this image) can be found at the Living Room Theaters' blog
An almost obsessive fan of Frasier, I have a funny fascination with The Radio - not the thing that has little men and women inside them who read out the news, but rather the technology and the practicalities of producing radio shows. Before this week, I had never seen a radio studio from the inside, when a rather unlikely incarnation of fate knocked on my door: desperation.
The desperation was on the part of the radio producer who needed an expert for a light-hearted chat show on BBC Radio Scotland. Since term just ended and everyone's flown out of the nest, someone suggested me as the next likely candidate - never mind that the show segment theme ('The therapeutic value of keeping a diary') is only very vaguely related to, er, alchemy... The angle into the theme was the question whether blogging kills the diary (like video killed the radio star, I suppose), and what ho, I am a blogger. Overall, the opportunity was too curious to pass up, and so I went.
Although I'd been warned I was surprised to find the show host veer from the script after just a few seconds. His questions went down a path which did not need me, an expert (who sniggered?), to tread down it. But when I'd prepared my bit the day before, I'd noticed the connections between diaries and letters (something I do know a little bit about now, mid-exhibition preparation). So, for good measure, I threw that into the discussion and found that the idea was received with enthusiasm, especially when I mentioned an elderly friend's letters.
Image from edwud.com: Ed O'Keeffe Photography
Was it worth spending 11 of my 15 minutes of fame? In many ways it was: I saw the gorgeous building and a studio from the inside (those microphones brought out the dork in me); I mentioned to squeeze in some history; and I was reminded of how good it is to have friends of different generations. And on that note, I'll now sit down now with pen and paper, and write a long letter.