I am just about as tired as a newly-migrated swallow.
We have arrived in our hotel after the busiest day, and I am loyally writing to you although really I would very much like to go to sleep.
Some time last night I had the brainwave of thinking that it would be nice to do something all together before dispatching the children to have their brains refilled.
I thought that we could go and watch a film together. I quite liked the idea of a film called Doctor Strange, because I had heard some people on Radio Four saying that it was marvellous. The rest of the family liked the idea, so I investigated in between customers, and decided that the best thing to do would be to go to York first and find a cinema there, and fortunately there turned out to be one which was on our way.
It was in 3D, that is to say, some showings were in 3D, although not all. Obviously we wanted to see it in 3D, I can’t begin to imagine knowing that a film was in 3D and still deliberately choosing to watch it in ordinary dull flat screen. 3D is a magnificent invention and I appreciate it very much, all films should be in it.
In the end we found a showing in the early afternoon, which meant that we would have to leave our house at half past ten in the morning.
This was not quite as bad as it might have been because of the clocks changing, so we had longer in bed than we might have done otherwise, but it was still not very easy to leap enthusiastically out of bed all the same. It seemed to take ages to get ready, because the children had stayed up far too late as well and so we were all sleepy, and by the time we were ready to go I was starting to get shouty.
We dropped the dogs off with Mark’s sister at the farm. Going to the farm is a tiresome experience when there are sheep about, because there are three gates to be opened and closed. This means that if I am driving there and back on my own I have got to get in and out of the car twelve times. This is the sort of thing that should be pointed out to people who imagine they would like to live in a rural idyll.
The dogs disappeared into a pack of waving tails and we brushed the muddy pawmarks off our trousers and set off. By some inexplicable miracle possibly related to there not being any speed cameras we managed to make it to York in time for the start of the film, so early, in fact, that we had almost finished the popcorn by the time the opening shots appeared.
If you are the sort of person who appreciates a plot with your films then probably it is not worth bothering with this one, however if you are just somebody who likes massive stunning special effects on an enormous three dimensional medium then I can jolly well tell you that this is the film for you.
We came out in awed silence, and were back in the car before Lucy said, with some admiration: “So, who knew what that was about, then?”
None of us had any idea what it was about, but were in agreement that this was not important, and felt pleased with the afternoon. I suggested to Lucy that maybe we could go and watch Bridget Jones some time, but she sniffed, and said if she wanted to watch blondes getting in a tizz about stupid trivial things she could do that at school, thanks.
After that we went to meet Nan and Grandad for the usual pre-or-post-school jolly, and ate far too much, because the food in the White Swan at Deighton, should you ever be passing, is ace. I had chicken drowned in bubbling cheese and bacon, followed by lemon meringue pie and cream, and I can tell you that if you have got to finish up with Type Two Diabetes there are many worse ways to get to it.
We left Lucy in her pretty dormitory at school and went on to the hotel, which is where we are as I write, and after such a day of extravagant hedonism I am exhausted. Mark and Oliver are in the shower and I am in bed.
I will write some more tomorrow.
