Trying to tell me something
Back from the weekend away in Suffolk.
Actually I can't complain. My sister and her family are OK. The children are old enough to hold a reasonable conversation with, and it's great watching them wind up their parents. The journey over wasn't much fun though. There's about a zillion roadworks on the A14 and even before we'd got that far, Chiswick decided he was going to crap on the seat and the Dachshund. Fortunately everything was covered up in dog towels and rugs, which have now been washed (except the Dachshund, who has also been washed), so no dog poo actually touched car, so to speak. But the smell was quite intense in an enclosed space. Cleaning things down with kitchen paper at the side of a busy dual carriageway in the dark isn't easy either.
We all went to see King Kong on Saturday, which was alright in a numb bum kind of way. I think Jack Black was an excellent and unexpected piece of casting, but the movie could have worked just as well at two hours. God alone knows what the director's cut DVD special extended version will be like - five hours anyone?
The other thing that struck me was a complete lack of any sense of vertigo. Things quite often happened on cliff edges, at the top of the Empire State building (I don't think I'm spoiling anything here), over steep precipices. Yet not once did any of the cast show the kind of wary trepidation any normal person might show in such circumstances. It's a small point, but annoying all the same.
Coming home yesterday, the traffic wasn't too bad and all the road works passed with reasonable speed. Until we hit Wales, that is. Just about halfway between Trewern and Pool Quay, on the run in to Welshpool, there had been a nasty accident and the road was blocked. We sat in the queue for about fifteen minutes with no sign of motion, no explanation as to what was happening and a growing sense of frustration. It's not an easy place to take an alternative route from, but eventually we decided to turn around and make a large detour.
So it took an extra hour to get home. The last time we went away, our return was thwarted by a crash on the A44. I'm beginning to think someone's trying to tell me something.
Actually I can't complain. My sister and her family are OK. The children are old enough to hold a reasonable conversation with, and it's great watching them wind up their parents. The journey over wasn't much fun though. There's about a zillion roadworks on the A14 and even before we'd got that far, Chiswick decided he was going to crap on the seat and the Dachshund. Fortunately everything was covered up in dog towels and rugs, which have now been washed (except the Dachshund, who has also been washed), so no dog poo actually touched car, so to speak. But the smell was quite intense in an enclosed space. Cleaning things down with kitchen paper at the side of a busy dual carriageway in the dark isn't easy either.
We all went to see King Kong on Saturday, which was alright in a numb bum kind of way. I think Jack Black was an excellent and unexpected piece of casting, but the movie could have worked just as well at two hours. God alone knows what the director's cut DVD special extended version will be like - five hours anyone?
The other thing that struck me was a complete lack of any sense of vertigo. Things quite often happened on cliff edges, at the top of the Empire State building (I don't think I'm spoiling anything here), over steep precipices. Yet not once did any of the cast show the kind of wary trepidation any normal person might show in such circumstances. It's a small point, but annoying all the same.
Coming home yesterday, the traffic wasn't too bad and all the road works passed with reasonable speed. Until we hit Wales, that is. Just about halfway between Trewern and Pool Quay, on the run in to Welshpool, there had been a nasty accident and the road was blocked. We sat in the queue for about fifteen minutes with no sign of motion, no explanation as to what was happening and a growing sense of frustration. It's not an easy place to take an alternative route from, but eventually we decided to turn around and make a large detour.
So it took an extra hour to get home. The last time we went away, our return was thwarted by a crash on the A44. I'm beginning to think someone's trying to tell me something.
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