Oscars 2016

Well, that’s it for another year. Yes it was diverse, though not in the way it could have been.
Chris Rock was solid as a…well, rock and the jokes were as near to the knuckle as expected. He made some very good points too. ‘Why not have ‘black’ categories’ he asks mischievously, ‘ we already have separate categories for men and women; why? It ain’t field and track.’
There were a couple of shocks: Ex-Machina winning for visual effects. Not that it didn’t deserve to be nominated but did the academy not see Mad Max? And Spotlight winning for Best Film, although I had a sneaking feeling about that one. The two main Acting categories were foregone conclusions, and rightly so. Brie Larson’s (and Jacob Tremblay’s ) performance was superb and Leo… Yes, he finally did it although part of him was probably thinking he would wake up in bed in the morning with a terrible hangover, a half-empty packet of out-of-date elephant tranquilisers and his car parked across the lawn (This won’t make sense if you haven’t seen Wolf of Wall Street).
Lady Gaga was introduced by Vice-President Joe Biden – honestly – and it was one of the night’s moments. Vivid and powerful, and with all those survivors of abuse on stage, she moved the audience to tears. This was the year abuse was pulled out of the closet. And why Spotlight deserved it’s moment.

Tempus Fugit.

It was the sound of the breathing that sickened him more than anything else; even more than the inexplicable guilt that crossed his mind. The deathly rattle from the old man’s chest wore him down and he thought of the unfairness of it all – the war, pollution, smog, the tobacco – and how he wished he could help.

The storm outside was still raging; cracks of rain peppering the windows, the moaning of the wind as it ran along the bricks and mortar. The curtains rippled slightly as the outside forced itself through the thin sheets of single glazed glass.

This will all be over soon; life will carry on. The grief will hit them all in different ways – will creep up on them at inopportune times – but the loss of life and its effect on the ones left behind is only natural and human.

He was ready and that was the single most important thing.

He glanced at his watch. It was nine fifteen. It felt like five o’clock. Time was being swallowed in great gulps.

He pushed the curtain to one side, the dark contradicting his perception of time. His body clock was messed up and he was tired. He slunk into the old long-backed chair next to the bed, closing his eyes for a minute.

He thought he was awakened by a tapping on his shoulder. Having fallen asleep, it took a few seconds to waken fully. He turned. Looking behind, he realised the chair was up against the wall. There was no one else in the room, just the two of them, and he quickly came to the conclusion he must have dreamt it. It was now twelve minutes past midnight.  He looked across at his father; saw stillness and heard nothing.

The storm had gone and with it the old man’s soul.

Can you endure Fortitude?

On the lonely edge of the Arctic Circle lies a town suffering, both metaphorically and literally, from meltdown. It seems some of the critics of the show have been premature with their dismissive reviews. Only just over half way in, the show is starting to reward, proving Sky’s insistence that it is both groundbreaking and genre-busting. Particularly like the relatively unknown Richard Dormer’s performance as the doughty, stubborn Sheriff. He more than holds his own against the more well known cast members; Stanley Tucci, Michael Gambon and ‘cameo’ Christopher Eccleston. More recent plot developments are intriguing and – are we heading on a horror/sci-fi trajectory here? – reminiscent of Lost. If you haven’t seen it yet or given up after a couple of episodes, I can only urge you: Watch!

The Muffin Man

I was panicking as I weaved my way through the throng of reluctant shoppers; people paired off, chatting, blocking the pavement and ignorant – or was that unaware – of people like myself who were on a mission, who had a purpose in life. To get where I was going.
Maurice and I were settling down and this was my big chance to be the main man once again. If I got this job, it would show him that I still had it. His wage as a male nanny was hardly going to keep us in the manner that we aspired to be accustomed to.
I was not going to be late for the interview and even though the sweat dripped down the inside of my shirt arms – and I was hot – my confidence was not to be blunted.
I stopped outside the ‘Costa Lotta’ coffee bar and decided I had enough time for a quick bitch-slap-in-the-face choco mucho mocha latte. I backed myself into the door, my briefcase held against my chest, and plopped myself down at the nearest table. I took in the joyous smells, the delightful gurgling and slurping of the coffee machines. A young man adjacent, on the other side of the table, smiled at me. In pity, I think, at my nervous sweaty demeanour. I joined the queue of caffeine junkies and when it was my turn I placed my order, surveying a particularly eye-catching chocolate muffin as I waited for my drink. ‘I’ll have one of those.’ I pointed to the muffin and the barista nodded and took my money.
The table was quieter when I sat down; just me and the young man adjacent. He was reading some Men’s health magazine, I think, and he looked up and smiled at me again. I think he was flirting but I couldn’t be sure. I reached for my case and brought out my CV and give it the quick once over. Just in case. I took a sip of my drink and licked my lips, noticed the young man, still smiling. My heart skipped a beat. He was old enough to be my…my new friend? What would Maurice say? I smiled to myself. Probably call me a tramp.
I took another sip, daintily dabbing away my chocolate moustache with a costa Lotta napkin and turned to get some other paper out of my case. I turned back to the table and saw the young pup smiling to himself as he read. He was chewing and I realised a bite size piece of my muffin was missing. The cheeky mare! I scowled, my mood darkening by the second, and immediately took the cake and stuffed it whole into my mouth. That got him! He stared, longer than he meant to, and I could see he wasn’t impressed. The cheek! The bloody cheek!
I collected my things together and shut my briefcase. I stood up and told the swine what I thought of his insolence. ‘You, son, are a cheeky young bastard.’
He stared at me, bemused as the barista approached from the counter.
‘Sir’, he said sheepishly, probably having witnessed the whole thing. ‘Sir, you left this at the counter.’
He held in his hand a plate. A plate containing my eye-catching chocolate muffin.

What is your earliest memory? Describe it in

What is your earliest memory? Describe it in detail: the place, the setting, the sights, smells, and sounds.