Sunday, 8 February 2009

Weekend Shenanigins.

I'm blogging loads at the moment, partly because I'm quite enjoying it, but also because I've bought new music and this gives me the chance to listen to it.

We've had a very lovely weekend. On Saturday we went to Arrow & Lu's for supper. Arrow cooked an amazing 3 course meal - scallops & black pudding to start, venison with a red wine jus to follow, and then ... oh then ... a chocolate and raspberry cheesecake that nearly killed us both. We 'only' had 2 slices each.

Considering we didn't drink all that much - 2 bottles of red between 3 (Lu doesn't drink) and a dram of Edradour - un chill-filtered - I felt rough as biscuits this morning. I couldn't understand it until Fisher reminded me of the vast quantity of food we'd consumed at one sitting, after eating practically nothing else all day. Bleuurg. No wonder my digestive system was doing somersaults.

Anyway, we had a very convivial evening, with the sort of good chat I've been craving over the last few months (covered everything from transsexuality to The Simpsons), and some good larfs. Alas, to our shame, we returned to the sitting room after the meal and discovered that Bridie had eaten 2 apple scented tea light candles, and peed on the carpet. Luckily we then discovered the pee was just water, but even so, our cheeks grew rosy on her behalf. I took the dogs out, then we retired to the air bed upstairs and kipped in their guest room. We kept waking up whenever we bumped elbows (NOT a euphamism), as we're not used to sleeping in such close proximity, so we were pretty bleary eyed the next day.

Today we scampered home so I could watch the first half of the Spurs Arsenal derby and record the second half, as we were going down to Edinburgh to meet up with Janus and Badger and look at the Jean Muir exhibition in the National Museum of Scotland. I was annoyed as, literally for the first time this season, Spurs were actually playing very well, and I was going to abandon them to the recording device, which has no vested interest in the game and therefore doesn't affect the outcome. Still, considering they've lost every game I have watched this season, it's probably quite a good thing I went away.

The exhibition was small but pleasing. I like Jean Muir's stylistic ideals as they're similar to my own. Her clothes are definitely too 'old' for me - my Aunt S used to wear her clothes a lot - but I do agree with her ideas of grace, comfort and style. Fisher and I were both surprised the exhibition wasn't larger, but what's on display is a good example of her work, so I think it does well in showing her off in a small space.

We then went for a hot chocolate with Badge and Jan in Biblios, which was very welcome as it was feckin' Baltic outside. We chatted for a while about this an' that, and it was all very civilised and cosy.

Back home I was able to sit and watch the rest of the game in peace. Despite Arsenal having Eboué sent off in the first half, we couldn't break them down and it finished goalless. We really are toothless in the box. With Robbie Keane back I hoped we might regain some proper finishing, but the only real chances fell to Keane who headed over the bar, and, in the dying seconds, Luca Modric, who was one on one with Almunia, completely failed to lift the ball over the 'keeper. Pathetic! Have to say, though, in fairness, he played pretty well otherwise. He was probably motivatied by Wenger the Whinger who said he wouldn't sign him because he was too fragile for the Prem. This was probably true, actually, at the start of the season, but he's toughened up a lot and gained some strength and tenacity.

So, we drew. All our relegation rivals lost yesterday, so this was a prime opportunity to put some distance between us - but with a single point, all we could do was limp to 15th. We SUCK.

Enough of footie. We spent the rest of the night in front of the box, which was a waste of time. I wanted to see the BAFTAs, but they were bloody stupid, as usual. Best Film went to Slumdog Millionaire, which may well be the best film in the world but, I suspect, won solely because it's British. Strangely, though, despite it being the Best Film, it wasn't the Best British Film ...

Stupid. And, also, very dull. Nowadays, all the recipients are too terrified of not getting people's names 'out there' to give a decent speech. They all have to just reel off a long list of 'I'd like to thanks' to ensure the right publicity for their teams. Sorry, but isn't that what the credits are for? Dull, dull, dull.

And that's that. Might go skiing tomorrow, if I can be arsed.