I feel as renewed as library book - now there's a last century similie. I did absolutely nothing yesterday apart from go out and get a newspaper; I alternately sat in the garden, read the Guardian, books, watched TV. There's something very peaceful about not talking to anyone for twelve hours. Also, I continued to eat healthily and went to bed early, which is a rarity.
Read Katie.com - which I would not recommend (although it only took two hours); it reads something like a very long school project, which it may well have been, and I found myself starting to dislike the protaganist, which is never a good sign. It's like a very bad A Child Called It, without the depth, insight or pathos. I know there's a trend for obsessive Jerry Springerism, and what happened to this young woman was not a good experience, and I can only hope that at least she feels better after writing it, as I feel worse for reading it. And if I'm a reader-therapist, she should be paying me £5.59.
And watched Last of the Blonde Bombshells, which I'm pretty sure is a made for TV movie, with the most incredible cast: Judi Dench, Leslie Caron, Olympia Dukakis, Cleo Laine, June Whitfield (who is, unbelievably, seventy-five) and Joan Sims. So something of a Carry On reunion, too. It's an alternately moving and humourous story about one woman's search for meaning in her life after the death of her husband. An hysterical script, by Alan Plater, a seasoned TV writer - every line is a gag, practically - toe-tapping old-time swing music, and a post-feminist tear-jerker par excellence. Only marred by the mediocre performance of Millie Findlay as Judi's grand-daughter, which was a little bit school-play for my liking.
Today; the gym, more healthy food, walk on the Heath, if the weather holds up, with some friends. I am a paragon of healthy living, right?
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