The past week has been a hectic-bordering-on-bedlam one, so on the weekend I did bloody nothing but watch Netflix. I'm working my way through The Queen's Gambit and am really enjoying it. It's based on a novel I've not yet read, and tells of an orphaned female chess prodigy in the US during the 1960s.
This week has had a sorrowful pall with the death of a much loved uncle. I was able to attend his funeral - traveled with my brother who acted as a pallbearer. I am loathe to use the oft trotted-out cliche (which is what makes them cliches!), but it was great to see my relatives despite the lousy circumstances.
To counter this cruddiness, I will try and think of some good things. First of all, I have completed some of the study I have undertaken. This is why I treated myself to a weekend of Netflix and shared a bottle of Moet et Chandon with Mr Bingells. Since receiving this hallowed drop as a birthday present a few years ago, it has been our realisation that if one is going to drink champagne, and I mean CHAMPAGNE. not sparkling wine, then by the Living Harries make it the good stuff!
Second of all, I started thinking about bathroom renovation. I do not know when the renovation will commence, but I do know I'm having some marvelous ideas. I bought a magazine for inspiration but found myself thinking: 'Yuck! Who in their right mind would want THAT gaudy monstrosity as the chamber for carrying out the ablutions?' I don't know about you, Reader, but when I see floor-to-ceiling tiny rectangular tiles, all I can think about is public swimming pool change rooms or pubs. As Mr Bingells pointed out, having too much white will create an atmosphere of cold, clinical sterility that one would associate with a hospital or asylum (no jokes about your blogger being the resident, please), so I'm thinking white tiles (not all the way to the ceiling), but with some kind of frieze at the top, which will provide something visually pleasing and break the monochrome monotone. Currently, I think the most visually pleasing thing in the bathroom will be Mister Sixteen's discarded clothing in the laundry hamper instead of strewn over the floor.
Only other thing that has really crossed my mind today is that I would happily never hear Tiny Dancer again. Oh, don't get me wrong - I do likes me a bit of Elton, which is just as well because my younger son is mad about him and plays his music frequently. But Tiny Dancer just gets on my nerves somewhat, possibly because it's one of those tunes that gets hammered to death by classic rock radio stations. I tend to think of that scene in Almost Famous whenever I hear it. I liked that movie - how astonishing an actress is Frances McDormand? - but am flummoxed that Kate Hudson was nominated as Best Supporting Actress for her role as the groupie Penny Lane. Huh? I saw nothing outstanding about the performance. You'd think it difficult to make the character of a groupie, a marginalised sector of society, really bloody boring, but somehow Kate managed to achieve this. Nah, I just didn't get it at all.
My dinner is ready. I must away. Also, now that I am more au fait with digital technology, I should be able to finalise the uploads to a self-publication platform; unless there are some publishers out there who'd like to take me on now that my previous publishers have closed their doors?
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