1 February
Pinch, punch, first of the month! What do you mean, ‘no returns’? I thought there was a thirty day exchange policy. I have consumer rights!
Still, today was a quiet Friday in which England’s lady cricketers were beaten by their Sri Lankan counterparts in the ladies cricket world cup. I wonder if they knew where their off stumps were? In the place with the other wooden limbs needing a wash. In the evening, Lady O, Kumar and I watched THE EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES OF ADELE BLANC SEC, which was irritatingly interrupted by adverts. It should have been called THE ORDINARY ADVERTS INTERRUPTED BLANC SEC. Whatever happened to Louise Bourgoin? And why is Mathieu Amalrac only in it for five minutes? Answers, Besson [Luc Besson], answers!
I did the laundry a day early. A young homeless woman brought in drying. I think she was looking for a place to sleep. The attendant turned off the light to shoo her away – while I was still drying my socks. Have you ever tried to pair socks in the dark? Turn that into a film, Dustin Hoffman!
2 February
I should have travelled to the Sky Movies Preview of WRECK IT RALPH but overslept. Shopping and lunch followed. Listened to Chelsea lose to Newcastle 3-2. Arsenal squeaked a 1-0 win at home against Stoke, a deflected shot from Lukas Podolski. Kumar and I went to the library. After tea, I ventured to Fulham Road Cineworld to see HYDE PARK ON HUDSON. Only it was on at Chelsea Cineworld. I ran back to that cinema with bin-end trailers to spare. There was a woman in the lobby with a clipboard ‘Can I help?’ Yes, it would help if you had the names of the films you are screening outside the ruddy cinema. HYDE PARK ON HUDSON was surprisingly enjoyable. It is quite a damning indictment of FDR, the man who used his stamp collection to attract women. (What naff chat up lines.) The Chelsea audience only started laughing when the Brits – Elizabeth and Bertie – appeared. Tentative hot dog munching got a big laugh.
3 February
Kumar and I returned to filming our Academy Awards special. If he had his way, we would have done it all in one day, but I needed a script – IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR AN ACTOR? We travelled to Canary Wharf where Kumar divested me of my hat and gloves – he was very cold. He took lots of shots of me walking. I was assured it was a homage to DJANGO UNCHAINED (opening titles). I only managed to find my mojo after lunch. We didn’t have a catering caravan – I took Kumar to Tesco’s instead. (You don’t get loyalty points from the Honey Wagon, especially as it contains lights!)
Outside LA Fitness (‘I didn’t know it was French’), Kumar enjoyed himself immensely as I pulled a muscle. And they said Michael Winner was a tyrant. Plus he filmed me encumbered by a loose bogie. The shame of it! I thought of Martin Scorsese and THE LAST WALTZ. When faced with evidence that Neil Young had snorted cocaine, he had to cover it up with the travelling booger shot. Yes, Marty, but what about the eyes?
We took a 277 bus back to Highbury & Islington but got off early when some foul mouth ten year old boarded. First utterance, a curse-word! Response from friend, another curse-word! We took a 38 to the Angel and a 4 bus to the Barbican. (Is any of this interesting? I’m not sure.) There, we saw people queuing for four hours to enter the Rain Room. If I had squeezed my bladder, they could have the same effect for free! I had a great idea for an elevator pitch in an actual elevator but my director threw a hissy fit. ‘I don’t get it! I don’t want to do it.’ However, we found an empty table in a waiting area where we could perform one skit where I played Warren Beatty but with MCCABE AND MRS MILLER facial hair. Kumar wanted to film another scene in an underground car park, which we did. I wasn’t so much Deep Throat as hoarse and raspy of voice – and that was just my impression of a well-known ex-husband of Kim Basinger.
In the evening, I listened to the second half of Manchester City verses Liverpool, a match that ended 2-2. I saw Channing Tatum shaven of head on JIMMY FALLON promoting SIDE EFFECTS (which I thought was a book of short stories by Woody Allen).
4 February
I had a ticket to see SONG FOR MARION but when it came to five-thirty and young Kumar still had not done his homework, I had to stay to make sure that he produced something that did not contain film references. It was notes for a character’s way of speaking. Kumar described it as ‘archaic’ like ‘Gangster Squad’ then referenced the films of Christopher Nolan. I advised him to begin a sentence with a verb: ‘Know this’. This proved to be a catalyst for three-quarters of a page of passable dialogue. Result!
Lady O returned home at Seven-fifteen. Kumar made her a cup of coffee. ‘It’s blacker than me!’ she complained.
5 February
Saw STOKER at Fox Preview Theatre, 31/32 Soho Square. An embargo forbids me from commenting upon it.
6 February
After finishing his homework, I got Kumar an EE 241 ticket to see MOVIE 43 at Cineworld Wood Green. He enjoyed much more than when I accompanied him. Lady O was not pleased. England beat Brazil 2-1 at Wembley, but it wasn’t a proper match but a friendly.
7 February
Wrote a review of BULLET TO THE HEAD, which I thought was called BULLET IN THE HEAD on account of Sylvester Stallone’s slur. Lady O worked late. Invited to SOMETHING IN THE AIR next Wednesday, a good reason to miss CLOUD ATLAS (I could not secure a guest ticket for the latter).
8 February
My review of HITCHCOCK was printed – yay! – but none of the others. Watched THE VOW in the evening with Lady O. Rachel McAdams loses her memory and Channing Tatum attempts to convince that he was never a stripper. Michael Sucsy directed. Scott Speedman played Jeremy, the spurned boyfriend. Jessica Lange co-starred as Tatum’s mother in law. I forgot who starred as the disapproving father-in-law (‘divorce her’). Every so often, Tatum turned up in a recording studio to supervise a session but I was not convinced. Found a good American website, getascreening.com. I got tickets for CLOUD ATLAS in Basingstoke for Sunday.
9 February
After laundry, Lady O joined Kumar & I for a trip to Enfield Cineworld. Kumar saw WARM BODIES whilst Lady O and I watched DJANGO UNCHAINED. Tarantino’s latest showed his style becoming a cliché. If a character describes something that will happen, either removing the lead character’s testicles or sending him to work in the mines, you can be sure there will be no follow through. The problem is, we have to listen to a lengthy description of what is not going to happen. It was truly Christoph Waltz’s film. Dr King Schultz is a likeable romantic bouncy hunter, who keeps his money in his tooth – the one on his wagon, that is. Jamie Foxx has a mainly reactive role. As for Leonardo Di Caprio, he lacked menace and a sense of power. I truly withdrew from the film when the theme to UNDER FIRE was played in its entirety as the characters rode into Candieland. Lady O described the 165 minute film as ‘butt-numbing’.
Kumar was none too happy either with his audience. Whole rows shifted throughout the film. He appeared to like the first hour of WARM BODIES; he described the last thirty minutes as sub-TWILIGHT, with shades of JASON AND THE ARGONAUTS (walking skeletons).
If you would like a dining experience that is memorable in the wrong way, why not visit Pizza Hut in Enfield? Lengthy queues, long waits for service, longer waits for cutlery, dishes arrive that you didn’t order, dishes arrive with the wrong topping. I didn’t ask the waitress for the bill; she was too overworked. Instead, I paid at the counter. Good for kids’ parties at weekends, but not alas for grown-ups.
No idea how Arsenal fared in today’s match, or against whom. (1-0 away win against Sunderland. Jack Wilshere got crocked.)
10 February
We did not see CLOUD ATLAS. Instead, Kumar and I filmed the introduction to our Academy Award special outside the Royal Opera House, where preparations were under way for this afternoon’s BAFTA film awards – a poor second cousin, if you ask me, but then I’m not Ben Affleck. Then we shot the SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK skit outside Cannon Street Station. Rain prevented us from completing the last two segments. We went to Islington where I bought Lady O Series One of MRS BROWN’S BOYS to cheer her up. At time of writing, Kumar is re-watching 21 JUMP STREET and chuckling profusely, in between coughs.
Stayed up to watch the BAFTAS, in which ARGO was rewarded with Best Film and Best Director. Emmanuelle Riva won Best Actress for AMOUR, Daniel Day Lewis Best Actor for Lincoln. Best original screenplay was DJANGO UNCHAINED. Best Supporting Actor, Christoph Waltz for same. Best Supporting Actress was Anne Hathaway for THE DARK KNIGHT RISES - if only - no, for LES MISSABLE. I wonder how POSTMAN PAT will fare this time next year. Rising Star: Stephen Mangan? (Or Jess the Cat?)
11 February
Malade with el-fluenza. Isn't that an opera. Early night.
12 February
Still ill. Missed SONG FOR MARION again. Up in the night. Complaints from downstairs neighbour. (Those aren't my creaking floorboards, they are my loins. My timbers shivered.)
13 February
Saw SOMETHING IN THE AIR (aka APRES MAI). Visceral, simplistic. Attractive leads. Didn't really say much. Homage to the neglected oeuvre of Kevin Connor (THE LAND THAT TIME FORGOT, AT THE EARTH'S CORE, THE PEOPLE THAT TIME FORGOT, WARLORDS OF ATLANTIS) - not all of them, just the first. Gilles, le revolutionary hero (set fire to a car) takes a well deserved ciggie break at the end. Qu'est que c'est le cinema?
14 February
Runny of nose, consumer of packet soup. 'Appy Valentino's Day.
15 February
At home, ridden of bid. Lady O phoned me while I slept and then complained that I did not get up. But I am supposed to be getting better. Wrote two reviews, CLOUD ATLAS and LORE, the former in the morning, the latter at night. Sent the latter both to my editor and the PR company that requested a quote. Much too late to get my name on the poster. The name Larry Oliver seems destined for obscurity, at least the way I spell it.
16 February
The first day of the future – the Future Film Festival that is. Kumar was very keen to see STRINGS, a film by that whipper-snapper, writer-director Rob Savage. Only the organisers could not guarantee him a ticket. Meanwhile I had booked for Lady O and myself to see ZERO DARK THIRTY. Was Kumar prepared to stand in the way of Lady O and I having a good time? What are teenagers for? Anyway, Lady O and I escorted him to the BFI South Bank and I negotiated with the organisers to procure him a ticket? Did he want more than one? No, Lady O and I are far too old.
We took the tube from Waterloo to South Kensington in an effort to make the 12:45 screening. Do not suppose that it was a straight-forward journey. Not if London Underground could help it. The entire circle line was suspended so I could not catch a tube from Embankment to South Kensington. So it was back on a train to Leicester Square and then change onto the Piccadilly line. Lady O had her foot clipped by a careless suitcase wheeler. They need a license, those people - this one was European and pulling on the wrong side of the pavement. On the Piccadilly line, a woman was reading a book entitled ‘Positive Dog Training’. But what if the dog was negative? What if it could not be arsed? So much for that book! A man standing in front of me decided to lean forward and place his genitalia in close proximity to my face. A woman sitting next to me leaned in, so I could feel her arm. It must be the ‘Lynx effect’ (to quote a British deodorant advert) or at least the faint smell of link sausages.
We made it to the screening on time and I have now seen eight of the nine Best Picture nominees. AMOUR is clearly the best, but I enjoyed (if that is the right word) ZERO DARK THIRTY for its refusal to descend into kitsch (unlike ARGO). Yes, Americans tortured Muslims – that is, terrorist suspects. They should not be proud of it. Yet the practice brought the Americans to the door of Usama Bin Laden. Discuss.
The journey home was fraught with commuters but we made it. I did some shopping whilst Lady O caught up with Kumar who MOANED about STRINGS. He didn’t get it – that’s a polite expression for Kumar’s opinion.
In the evening I wrote a review of SOMETHING IN THE AIR for another of my outlets. Arsenal lost to Blackburn 1-0; the team is out of the FA Cup. Not a good result, but Arsenal (and I) have been there before.
17 February
It is accomplished, or, to put it another way, it’s a wrap. Kumar & I finally finished shooting our Academy Awards special. We eventually found McDonalds – Kumar always needs motivation to shoot – then Lincoln’s Inn Fields where, for reasons known only to Kumar, I gave a bad Liam Neeson impression. (I should not really blame it on him.) Young Lincoln was played by Kumar and he wielded an ‘axe’ which turned out to be a children’s electric guitar. We did not so much rock out but look very silly. Kumar then saw PARANORMAN 3D at the British Film Institute South Bank, screened as part of day two of the Future Film Festival. This was followed by a Q and A with director Sam Fell. Kumar & I met afterwards and we had lunch (he ate, I watched) and shot a pick up for our LINCOLN skit. Then we filmed BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD in Russell Square – me chasing after squirrels – and that, boys and girls was the end of three weekends of so-called comedy.
In the evening, I edited two segments whilst Kumar put the finishing touches to his version. Kumar watched GLEE. I looked glum. Kumar read Chapter One of OF MICE AND MEN to me and spent the usual thirty minutes in the toilet. (Not in that order.)
18 February
The first day of what we British call half-term holiday, which is another way of saying teachers get too much time off. Kumar spent the day volunteering at the BFI South Bank during the final day of the Future Film Festival. I am not sure what he did but it involved moving a team urn and spilling tea on his foot. He also went to a networking event that served fruit juice – good for them. An early night was had by all. Kumar read the second chapter of OF MICE AND MEN to me. I nodded off. Surely that was the point!
19 February
At Wired Preview Theatre in Charlotte I caught DRAGON, a martial arts caper with Donnie Yen as a villager with a secret past. His wife learns to accept the words, ‘I’ll see you tonight’ from him, but only after he loses his arm and his dad is killed. (Yen’s screen father is not a pleasant chap.) Arsenal is comprehensively beaten by Bayern Munich at home 3-1. The Germans played like a team; with the exception of Wilshere, Arsenal played for the showers. Lady and Kumar watched Benicio Del Toro’s THE WOLFMAN (arrr-whoo!) Fell asleep during another chapter of OF MICE AND MEN.
20 February
Saw THIS IS 40 with Lady O and Kumar at Cineworld Wood Green (walked there and back), followed by repast at the Devonshire House (I a burger, Kumar a chicken burger with extra bacon, Lady O an ‘all day brunch’). A woman aged 71 flirted with me at the bar. It was her birthday. ‘I’m very drunk,’ she confided. My defibrillator flickered into life, but it could have been down to the slow service. I wished her a happy day.
21 February
Had a quiet evening chez nous, scribbling a THIS IS FAULTY review. One to one French lesson with Mademoiselle Professeur, about eating out (in my case, ‘manger avec ma femme et petit Kumar’). She taught me the French for ‘well done’ which she reliably informed me isn’t ‘well done’ spoken with a faux French accent.
22 February
New York, New York, it’s a wonderful town. Hearing aid don’t work, ‘cos the battery’s down. Danke schön Herr Irving Berlin, Monsieur George Gershwin. Bless United Airlines and their in-flight entertainment – watched ROBOT AND FRANK whilst seated behind a couple of lost Communards – one male, the other wore the trousers – and in front of older man plump of belly who INSISTED ON KICKING MY SEAT. All hail the chicken in-flight gastronomic rectangle (from a selection of chicken, vegetarian, or pot luck). Cry hosanna that the flight took less than seven hours – how much KICKING from the buck-less bronco could I take? Yippety-yay the bus that took me to Newark and left me in haulage causeway – I eventually found my way downtown. Blimey, that’s hot coffee from Dunking Donuts in a ‘screw the planet’ polystyrene cup. Jeepers creepers, some of the downs on the streets of Newark are definitely out; this attempt to save the sixteen dollar bus fare direct from Newark Airport to NYC was misguided. Thank the lapsed Christians I found my way to Penn Station and the 108 bus (fare $5.50) to Port Authority Bus Terminal on 42nd Street. What a nice lady I met on the bus who warned me about pickpockets who engaged tourists in casual conversation – she wasn’t one of them, lived in Union City (of Union City Blues fame – what, too young for BLONDIE?) Pick up a free copy of VILLAGE VOICE, but it has no movie listings. Check out the cinema with 25 screens. Remark at the mild weather that is nothing like the chill that gripped London! Yum yum to the milk and cookies on arrival at Hampton Inn, 108 W 24th Street! Oh dear, Channel 64 (ABC) doesn’t work. HOW WAS I GOING TO WATCH THE OSCARS?
This was of course the raison d’être, or raisin-bran d’être since I’m short on roughage. I walked to 14th Street to find the Chelsea cinema that screened it for charity on my previous visit (2010). It was on 23rd Street (found when I walked back on 7th Avenue. Had my cheese bagels for my evening meal and coffee – I made coffee in my room. Nothing on TV, even on the Sundance Channel! The pixillating Channel 64 taunted me. I asked Front Desk to see to it and they said they would despatch an engineer, but nothing happened. ‘It’s the cable company,’ they explained, milk and cookies now a distant memory. What was I here for?
23 February
An early night turned into a ‘wake up, it’s four am and it’s no good just lying there’. I shaved, showered and had breakfast at six. Had some sort of odd sausage as well as egg, cheerio substitutes, a yoghurt, orange juice, two cups of coffee, a banana to go. And go I did, up town, past the Half Price Ticket booth in Times Square, which ought to be re-named the ‘not quite half price, in fact we sell for full price, and not the really good shows either’. Here’s their pitch: ‘If you want Scarlett Johansson in CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF we ain’t got it! If you want Ricky Martin in EVITA, we ain’t got it! If you want Tom Hanks in LUCKY GUY, a New York Play by Nora Ephron, it’s not on until next week and we ain’t got it. If you want Jesse Eisenberg in THE REVISIONIST we ain’t got it. We ain’t got it! We ain’t got it! WE – AIN’T – GOD – IIIIIIIIT! Nor BOOK OF MORMON neither.’
It’s funny how a group of random extras appear as a chorus in the middle of the street, shaking their heads vigorously! Or maybe not!
So I walked to 65th Street, found the old Sony Theatre now an AMC, and it didn’t open until 10:40am. It wasn’t even 8:00am. I walked back and did some random filming in Central Park and its environs. The city is one big TV location, where NBC and Fox were broadcasting live in the cold.
So I walk back to Times Square and check out the Swatch shop. Then the AMC Cinema on 42nd where cinemagoers have gathered for a marathon viewing of all nine Best Picture nominees from 10:01am to the next day. (Tickets: $60 – a bargain.) Cold fact: I could have watched LINCOLN and ARGO on the plane, but instead I chose 30 ROCK and BEN AND KATE. (Not so good with the touch screen automated menu.) I tried to watch WRECK IT RALPH, but I got bored.
Anyway, I didn’t opt for the $60 ‘who needs a hotel’ ticket. I walked down town in search of the CHERRY LANE THEATRE, 38 Commerce Street. Where was that? Somewhere in West Greenwich. Did I have a map? No.
Reader, I walked for hours: first, down to SOHO, then past my old hotel on Watts Street and then alongside the river. I was so close. A German tourist asked me for directions: ‘Where is the Soul Hole. Direct me to the Soul Hole!’Oh, Soho. Make a left. Don’t ask me, I’m a fugging tourist. Even New Yorkers don’t give us the time of day. An English accent? It’s like body odour, or to be exact, completely devoid of benefit for the get-ahead New-York-lander. ‘I do not desire your company, sir. Go back to that Rorschash blot of an island you walked in from. Oh, you want a theatre ticket? $86 and NO DISCOUNTS. ‘
I did indeed find the CHERRY TREE THEATRE and fork the aforementioned eighty-six bucks for a fourth row seat for Jesse, Nessie (Redgrave) and Bless Him (never heard of the third actor) for the 2:00pm performance of THE REVISIONIST. How I rejoiced.
I spent the time between 12:00 and 14:00 in a nearby McDonalds drinking a dollar coffee (‘that’ll be a dollar and nine’) watching the same man with a can walk UP and DOWN. UP and DOWN. Brown bagging a good one! I thought of William Kennedy’s IRONWEED. Meryl Streep singing ‘ere’s me pal!’ Wrong gender. A man greeted the lady behind the counter. ‘How you doing?’ ‘I doing good.’ There was the unmistakeable air of talking the fork. Walking the sulk. A young Asian father perched his child on his lap as they were about to tuck in. I gave up my seat.
I headed off for the branch of the NOO YAWK PUBLIC LIBRARY across the street (on 7th Avenue). Who was in there? Ladies using laptops, the poor and me, soaked. Did I tell you it was raining? Really, I noticed!
So I’m doing the SUDOKO puzzle in a free paper and trying to write down what I had for breakfast and it’s nearly half-one so I head back to the theatre.
It had a set. There was a sofa and able on one side, hallway, sliding door and a bedroom. Lights went down and Nessie appeared asleep on sofa. We are apparently in Poland. There is some sort of entry bell sound. Nessie wakes up. She searches and eventually finds her glasses and she does the lick and slide on the hair that passes for, ‘it would take too long to put on make-up – besides it’s an illusion.’
An illusion
All made up
Invented
... and we get our first glimpse of the star, Jesse E, the playwright who wanted to sit it out but when Nessie signed up, made time to play the main part, a writer, David who comes to Poland to revise his novel, a science fiction allegorical tale that somehow isn’t funny enough.
Why go to Poland?
The Poland of Mr Eisenberg’s play is not that inhabited by my neo classical guitar-playing pal from my FILM AND DRUMMER days – I was late with my essays, they tried to drum it into me. Where are the right wing zealots? No, this is the Poland of Holocaust survivors, provided with social housing, a little pension, no children. Nessie’s character GETS BY. She LOVES HER FAMILY. Look at them, pictures on the wall! Jesse (David) would rather not. He would rather smoke some weed. He just needs to crack open a window.
‘You want some food?’
‘No.’
‘I brought you present. Exercise books. For your novel.’
‘Er, thank you. I have computer.’
‘Better to write in a book.’
Pause.
‘You brought something for me?’
‘Sorry!’
‘You have present, something for me.’
‘I didn’t know we were exchanging gifts.’
‘You stay in my house.’
‘How about this bottle of Polish vodka?’
‘It’s Polish. Why would I want it?’
‘To remind you of home.’
‘Oh, OK.’
‘I’ll keep it for you.’
At this point, I should love the ability to completely reproduce the play, complete with Nessie getting her legs shaved (an illusion) and Jesse’s physical comedy and save you the eighty-six dollars. But you would not thank me. Jesse would not thank me (breach of copyright). The lost German tourist would not thank me. (‘SOUL HOLE!’) To summarise. Jesse wants to stay for a week. Nessie wants him for longer. She takes his plane ticket, puts it on fridge. He does not like the pictures in the room. Especially of him. ‘Where did you get it?’ ‘Your uncle.’ He wants to smoke. He can’t write. She wants him to sign a bad review. (It’s the New York Times.’) He won’t. Then he will. Nessie has taxi driver friend. (Who walks to the Cherry Tree Theatre?) Jesse teaches him rude words. He utters one Polish phrase for ‘good morning’. It is the afternoon. Nessie tells Jesse half her story. Her nanny adopted her whilst her parents died in the gas chambers. In the next scene, she explains second half. Nessie’s family isn’t her family. It is that of a dead girl. So she and Jesse aren’t related. Of course, she’s a Redgrave, he’s an Eisenberg. Jesse is sent home earlier. The book, six weeks behind at the start of play, is now seven weeks late. Nessie revised her past. At the start of play, she took cold calls for company. Now she lets the phone ring. Curtain!
Having had the New York theatrical experience – large parties of people who know each other, the absence of a bar in which to discuss the play – I walked back to the hotel, picked up a five dollar footlong subway sandwich (meatball marinara) along the way. In my room, still no Channel 64. I watch THE HURT LOCKER on Fox. With adverts. Lots of them. Then at the thrilling climax, the TV suddenly goes off. I miss the big explosion, the money shot.
Early night again.
In the UK, Arsenal beat Aston Villa 2-1.
24 February
Yesterday’s entry was rather long. I’ll be brief. Saw LIKE SOMEONE IN LOVE and the Oscars and Landmark’s Sunshine Theatre, several hours apart. Changed room. Channel 64 worked. Slept well. Wrote a lot in an exercise book (not a computer).
25 February
I can be slightly less brief. Checked out. Saw SIDE EFFECTS at AMC 25, 42nd Street. Went back to Trader Joe’s. Bought biscuits. I had lunch at Olive Garden on 6th and 22nd – worst lasagne ever. Took bus to Penn Station, Newark. Filmed outside hockey stadium. Got wrong bus to airport. Got right bus to airport. Mooched around before flight. Beef for dinner. Three seats by myself. Slept. I watched the beginnings of lots of films including LINCOLN, HOTEL TRANSYLVANIA and ALEX CROSS (latter pretty bad).
26 February
Home. Bought Lady O choccies. She liked them. Missed preview of PAPADOPOULOS AND SONS (sorry Sue and Liz). Lagged of jet. Heard about Kumar missing CLOUD ATLAS because he forgot his ID. What would he do without me? Answer: go to Future Film Steering Group today (he did).
27 February
Still lagged of jet. Quiet day. Biscuits went down well.
28 February
Missed some of my French lesson. More tortuous restaurant ordering. Qu’est ce que ‘huieul?’ Oh, oil. Bon Fevrier, mes amis.
