Life’s busy: I say that with no meaning as to its goodness or badness but just as a simple statement of fact.
G and I jotted off to London last week to visit Riverside and attend our family Christmas Dinner. Now, that may sound strange so let me explain. For Christmas, my sister (and her hubby, Butchie) and G and I gave my parents a swank dinner as a prezzie. However, with our schedule, my parents even busier schedule, and my sister’s schedule dominated by two very busy children, trying to negotiate a day that worked for everyone involved was an adventure.
It took four months but we finally managed it.
We had a splendid time (gosh, when don’t we have a splendid time at home?!) and dinner was outstanding. We shall plan on returning to Only on the King soon, this time for the chef’s tasting menus avec vin.
Two weekends ago, we hosted my cousin Cindy and her son, Scott, for a Sunday coffee to get caught up after, oh, fifteen-odd years. It was great to see her and good to know Scott, an aspiring musician, is now in the ‘hood so to speak as well. I forgot to take a picture?!
On other fronts, we also hosted Ann and Gord, sans Lady Sarah (who was sadly ill) last Wednesday (was that last Wednesday?) to begin the planning of a very large reunion later this summer for XXXX (name deleted but think world’s largest humanitarian organization). It’s going to be a great get-together with a 100-odd current and former employees from across Canada and overseas. I forgot to take a picture again, save the table setting. Ah, the joys of early onset Alzheimer’s.
Now we’re back, and the weather is thankfully getting warm, our project has been the balcony. While still a work-in-progress, we – er, I – laid down the undermat on Sunday and have purchased a gorgeous rug and new furniture. While this has all be dutifully christened with drinks, the unveiling shall wait for another post when I’ve more time.
5) me laying the undermat; 6) union break
7) random photo of cupcakes we picked up in London … almost as good as The Cupcake Shoppe one’s bought here in Toronto
The Ninth Gate
Directed by none other than Roman Polanski, the Ninth Gate is an uneven film that builds great tension and interest in its first thirty minutes then rocks you to sleep and frustration for the remaining two hours. When rich guy Boris Balken (a pre-Nixon Frank Langella) hires gruff antique book hunter/dealer Dean Corso (the always stellar Johnny Depp) to find the two remaining copies of a book reputedly illustrated by the Devil himself all manner of strangness results, including the appearance of Polanski’s muse-(and wife)-who-can’t-act, Emmanuelle Seigner as “the girl”, a devil/demon (take your pick) bent on protecting Corso. There’s plenty of nods to Catharism and the Albigenses here for those with some familiarity and a dash of Dan Brown. The Ninth Gate is blessed with pitch-perfect music by Wojciech Kilar and Polanski’s sly and humorous direction is there along with a great ‘style’ including some subtle nods to Hitchcock, but it sadly rolls off its tracks the further it heads into Europe to the point of being – well – dumb. While good out of the first gate this film ultimately can’t make the second and garners my rating of 4 out of 10.