The Guardian hates Killing Me Softly (the movie) with a terrible hate. Which surprises me, because it was a gripping - if predictable - stuck-in-an-airport kinda book.
Just love how they characterise it as "Bridget Jones meets Story of O" (that could work, for some people). Media people, they talk a funny way. Last week, I went to supper at some old college friends, and there was a girl there talking about her Boss of Bosses at the BBC, and she kept calling him Mr TV. "He's Mr TV!" she kept saying. Turns out, he's someone I worked with on the student newspaper when I was at college. And from her description of him - misogynist, camp-but-straight, well dressed - he's not changed.
Spent most of today at D's with assorted media and regular folk. Had my babel fish with me, daahling. She made the most amazing non-stop-graze lunch-tea type thing, and I was very entertaining. Some bloke thought I was an actress. When it kept raining and not-raining, I called the weather "post biblical" and people laughed. But I've noticed that people laugh if you call anything post-something. Try it. I prefer not to be entertaining when I go out, but I don't know what to do if I'm not.
In other news, I feel like I have just got in from a very long plane journey: we're some way through the four day weekend, and I have no idea what fucking day it is. Jetlag. Jubileelag. Foosballlag. Definitely lagging behind in something.
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