Saturday, 31 January 2009

Beat me with your rhythm stick

Miss Pettigrew lived for a day, at least in our village hall last night. Every month or so, we have a visit from the cinema, right on our doorstep, and last night Mrs Pelly Sheepwash and I sauntered up and took our seats. It's a light film, with plenty of froth, stagey acting and lovely 30s sets and costumes. Nothing much happens, plenty of people pretending to be what they are not, falling in love and the leading lady gets her man at the end. I love film, from highbrow serious to Star Wars and Jungle Book. And I love the experience of going 'out' to watch one. What I am not too keen on is noisy people behind me. And last night there were three of them. Hooting with laughter at scenes that were really not that funny, stating the obvious at quiet, poignant moments and wolfing down three Tupperware containers full of salad and cous cous.

I remember once, at one of these film shows, a man at the front complained very loudly to the projectionist that there was the shadow of a head on the screen. Everyone turned on him. 'It's yours,' they hissed. 'Move out the way.' And the showing of the foreign language film La Spagnola was the most hilarious experience I have had in years. Forthcoming attractions include The Boy in Striped Pajamas and Morris. This latter film is set to be a cult hit (if the trailer is anything to go by) along the lines of Hot Fuzz but with Morris Dancing as its subject. Mr Loggins will love it.

Mr St John has resurfaced after the last blog appeal. He is still alive, thank goodness, and trying to sell Mr Grigg a car to replace the Freeloader written off by the lorry a few weeks ago. Would you buy a used car from this man? Well, yes, actually, I already have. Powered by elastic bands and swearing, the car suits me fine, particularly as it is bright orange.

Mr Grigg has been out most of the morning beating on the last shoot of the season, as I was down on my hands and knees cleaning and scrubbing puppy dust off the furniture. He returned full of port and cider, a grin across his big face and a huge hole in the gusset of his boxer shorts. The pickled onions at the beaters' lunches are pretty powerful.

A nice night in beckons with shared supper with Mr and Mrs Sheepwash and Mr and Mrs Loggins. I swear Mr Sheepwash looks more like Jon Stewart than ever since the family's return from Washington. My bet is that Pelly dunked Mr Sheepwash in the icy waters of the Potomac just before they got on the plane.

That's about it
Love Maddie x

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