This week, I want to be…

I was lucky enough to have a couple of days off this week, and I would usually spend the time perusing River Island’s new stock.  However, this week I was also lucky enough to have The Boy to keep an eye on me, and to make sure that there were no accidental splurges in New Look.  And he manages to do dissuade me without sounding like he’s preaching at me (most of the time.  He learnt his lesson after once spending half an hour explaining to me why spending £50 on a skirt 2 sizes too small just because it was in the sale was a waste of time.  And I punched him in the face.  *Disclaimer – probable lie*).

Instead, we decided to walk from his house into town, and back again.  This is a Big Achievement, as I’m allergic to walking, unless it happens to be in a gym. (or around the shops.  You SO didn’t see that coming did you…) Yep, I’m one of those people who will happily spend a fortune in order to join a gym, yet will refuse to get off my bum and get some fresh air, but after just over a year together, I feel that it’s time to start embracing the things that The Boy loves (and he promised food if I did it).  It’s a 2 mile walk, but as I like to point out, A LOT, my legs are a good 10 inches shorter than his, so a 2 mile walk for him is really a 20 mile walk for me (have I mentioned that Maths is my passion?!) but I did it, and actually enjoyed it.  Until we stopped, and I felt the muscles in my head actually twitching.  It’s a weird feeling – it was a bit like my legs were filled with butterflies.  Or crickets.  In a               non-freakish way, obviously.  After some reviving Diet Pepsi, we walked around some shops, looking for a birthday present for The Beautiful One (do you have ANY idea how difficult is it to buy a present for a 1 year old?!  All the things we looked at either had ‘suitable from birth’, which I worried would suggest that I think she’s thick – which she’s really not, or they’re suitable from 18 months, which I worried would suggest that I have no idea of the stages of child development.   There’s a chance that I worry too much.) – luckily, we’d already been told that clothes buying was a bit of a nightmare, as she’s quite tall and slim for her age, so there was no need to go into any clothes shops.  Unluckily, I can’t tell you what we actually bought, as we haven’t seen her lovely parents to give them her present yet, and if I tell you, you might tell them, and then it won’t be a surprise…

Then we walked back.  And I sulked, because I hadn’t fully realised that the walk back would be exactly the same length as the journey there.  And it started to hurt my bum.  (I have NO idea why.)

Then, the best bit of our time off – we went to see Frankenstein at the cinema.  No, it hasn’t been re-released without you noticing, it’s a National Theatre initiative type thing, where they stream the show live – this week with Jonny Lee Miller as Frankenstein, Benedict Cumberbatch (or ‘Sherlock’ if you prefer) (or, the inept hostage negotiator in ‘Four Lions’ if you prefer)  as The Creature, next week with the roles reversed – on a side note, isn’t Jonny Lee Miller a lovely looking chap?  I hadn’t really noticed before.

Anyhoo, Danny Boyle (the genius, if you prefer) directed the show, and it was absolutely amazing – The Boy bought me an unlimited card for the cinema earlier this year (I have probably already mentioned this, but he likes it when I tell people how nice he is) (he doesn’t.  I do it anyway), so we go about once a week – I usually get bored about an hour in and start fidgeting (chanelling my inner 3 year old), but I was riveted (and ridiculously hemmed in – the cinema was PACKED.  I couldn’t have fidgeted without grossly infringing on the personal space of the nice lady next to me).  The make up was fantastic (even Benedict Cumberbatch’s bald cap with added random tufts of hair), the acting was phenomenal (dah-ling), and I didn’t hear the words ‘it’s ALIIIIIIVE’ once.  Which I was truly grateful for. I could go on for about an hour about it, but that’s just going to bore you – I’d just like to say that you should all go and see it this Thursday evening.  Please.  You’ll (probably) thank me afterwards. 

Except now I want to be a director, preferably Danny Boyle.  Or I would at least like to climb into his head for a bit and borrow some of his ideas.  In a non-weird way.  (Is there a non-weird way of wanting to climb into someone’s head?  I just think he’s great.  I’m really not weird.)

Yes, I know I wanted to be a ballerina after I watched Black Swan.  And I wanted to be in the West End after I saw Dirty Dancing, and I wanted to be Jack Bauer after watching the first series of 24.  But this is different. Because…well…because it is.  Yep, that’s a fabulously constructed argument, right there…


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