It would appear that on Thursday the 19th Century finally came to a close, what is this? I hear you say, Mr Sandman you do realise that the 19th Century finished on the stroke of midnight 1899. Well that is true, but what I mean here is that the last person to be born in the 19th Century passed away on Thursday, a titbit of info I found out thanks to a fellow blogger who goes by the handle of The Gad About Town
This brings me to the subject of growing older, one of two talents we all share, and how things define the concept. As a society are we staying younger as it were for longer? Thanks to improvements in medicine we are maintaining a higher level of health and fitness to a greater age, the world is increasingly filling with semi retired people in their sixties filling up there extra free time with all sorts of hobbies. Greater health and an increase in mobility really has moved the early part of retirement into a second childhood. Slowly going are the days of groups of old people hanging around together because they are the guys left, a basis which was the principal set up for the long running sitcom Last of the Summer Wine and was predominantly evident in the first four series (especially series 1 and 2) where most of the antics were things to starve off boredom. There is little of the slapstick of later shows and the early ones are much more dialogue driven. As we get older are we no longer going to turn into 21st century version of Clegg, Compo and Cyril? A lot of people reading this are in there 30s (or older), do you feel like a thirty something and does being in your thirties match what you were expecting it to be like?
Well enough of all this banter, how was my week. Dispondant I think is the best way for me to describe it. Monday was blissful sunshine and I spent most of the day either excerising or chilling in a pub beer garden. Tuesday however was a totally different kettle of fish with it being a grey, wet and miserable day and I felt excessively bored, I would say this photo sums up my mood for most of the week:
Stone me, what a life
An overall feeling of apathy overtook me that day and I totally failed to get any motivation to do anything, so Pier Pressure is still no further along, my attempts at writing a screenplay still consist of afew scribbled notes in a notebook. The idea is to do a microbudget production pretty much for the fun of it and I have asking around friends and friends of friends for recruting cast and crew. It seems easier to find guys who are up for it as opposed to women, (a frequent query from the ladies is “so is it porn?”, no it isn’t), so the screenplay will have to reflect that. Location wise I think we will be working on the principal of film it where we want and get it in the can before the local rozzers chuck us out and say sorry later.
Friday afternoon I went to the flicks to see Our Kind of Traitor, which is based on a John le Carré novel of the same name and was very good. It starred Ewan McGregor as a poetry teacher who gets mixed up in helping a defector from the Russian mafia move to the UK for asylum in return for information exposing a deal between UK parliament members and the Mafia. As with all le Carré you need to pay attention as it is a complex story and there are many twists and some interesting developments along the way (and one very predictable one).
After the film I popped to HMV and bought the Frank Sinatra meets Count Basie album on CD and Blu-Ray editions of Bridge of Spies and Crimson Peak, the latter a gothic horror I missed at the Cinema. Sadly I was not served by the lovely young lady of a few weeks ago, oh well.