This bank holiday weekend we are in Hastings. The mobile Internet connection is strong, and the cave full of mannequin smugglers terrified the boy. Perfect.
Rather than write a traditional cocktail post, I thought I would share with you the Comment That WordPress Wouldn’t Allow, from the man himself, Doctor Pockless:
If an alcohol free mojito is a nojito (which it isn’t) then once rum has been added, it becomes a yes-nojito. We also speculated about the opposite of a Virgin Mary, with unsavoury consequences.
If an alcohol free sangria is a singria, then once it has been re-rendered palatable, it is a congria.
If an alcohol free pint is called a shandy (which it isn’t), then having restored its glorious pintliness it must surely be a pint and a bit.
If an alcohol free Sex on The Beach is called an Inland Footle (which etc), then having returned to the shorelines of intoxication and abandonment, it must now be a Make-Up-Your-Bloody-Mind Mary, The Tide’s Coming In.
And so on.
I am writing and scheduling this post from a small exclusive party at the Castle Pockless, which is almost entirely devoid of furniture. The good doctor’s worldly goods have mostly been sent abroad on his foreign travels, and the man himself is squatting in his own soon-to-be-former home, surrounded by packing tape and leftover spices. We have found a carton of alcohol free mojito mix, added a splash of Morgan’s Spiced Rum, and spent the evening playing Maponimoes and arguing good-naturedly over what you call a non-alcoholic cocktail to which one has added alcohol.
The bar today is serving non-alcoholic cocktails which have been rendered alcoholic again (by the addition of alcohol). Name your drink. No, really, give it a name.
(seen in Hull)
I may have overdone it during my week in Armpit (RunKeeper confirms 45 miles in a month: a personal record). I now have niggling aches in my left hip and leg, enough to keep me awake which is not great. So I’ve firmly decided that I will do pilates sometimes as well; now you guys need to help me to stick with this resolution.
On Sunday we had some unexpected child-free time and Pete willingly agreed to go for a run with me. Being ten inches taller and ten years younger, he goes fast despite not being in the habit of running, so it was two miles of speed interval training for me, with a crazy run-like-Phoebe finish from him. Not surprised his legs hurt yesterday.
So yesterday I pilated (that’s a verb, right?) and today did the Pete’s-office-to-home 4 miler just before the thunderstorm. Thought it was stuffy.
What have you all been up to?
I take back what I said last week about Lost In Translation. I thought that I’d seen it enough to leave the bones clean of any additional nutritional value, but it seems that I was wrong.
The first time I saw this film, I consider to be a kind of throwaway; a crash test. I wasn’t prepared for such a lack of plot. Not that there’s an absence of plot – it is there, but it’s in the background. Of course, this isn’t the first character-driven film in the history of the universe, but what is remarkable is that I still like it.
I’m very much a plot-driven kind of guy. So the first time I saw this film, I was a little disappointed. I think we watched it again a few years back. I don’t think that my response then was particularly ecstatic either – on the one hand I knew a bit better what to expect, but I still didn’t really engage with the characters. But this third watching – I think I’ve finally really got it at last.
It’s a film about being stranded in a strange culture that you don’t understand and don’t really like, and finding support in a kindred spirit. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced this first hand – maybe that’s what the second watching was for. But now I’m equipped to absorb the atmosphere and the sense of isolation and frustration, to appreciate the excellent chemistry between Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson, and to understand how, by liking each other, they learned to like themselves.
The question now is: is there anything else to get out of it if I watch it a fourth time?
Back in the days of old Uborka, our ISP was Pipex. This was a satisfactory relationship for 2 or 3 years – our connection speed was initially 512Kbps, then 1Mb. Things started to turn sour when we moved house, and the experience was anything but seamless. At the time, we had plenty of other issues on our plate, so I reluctantly ended up in another 12 month contract with them. Continue reading
Self-service cocktails again today; the theme is the best meal you ever had…