Warming Up

I suppose it had to happen. Someone (Mike Stafford-Curtis in this case) has put together a Nike design for me. If Ian Nike wants to enter into negotiations I am happy to go ahead with this.

And in amazing news, we are doing another live RHLSTP and it’s at the Alexandra Palace. It’s on November 12th at 7.30pm and there will be two guests (what?) one of whom will be Robin Askwith (I am sure he will have some stories). Buy your tickets here - numbers are limited so be quick.

Outrageously my wife and I took another day off today in order to celebrate her birthday (again?) though maybe to celebrate mine a bit too as we didn’t get to do anything in lockdown. We took the whole afternoon to eat a late lunch and drink some nice wine in the plague pits of London and then went to the Curzon Soho (with maybe 10 other people in the room) to see Bill Murray and Rashida Jones (and one of the White Chicks)  in “On The Rocks”. Most of the adverts were for charity, which was nice, but also slightly depressing. The world is a bad place when it’s not interspersed with commercialism.

The film was OK, mainly because Bill Murray can make anything OK (except for his own part in the new Ghostbusters which is the only time I’ve seen him be bad). He is the actor I would most like to write for, though it seems unlikely that I ever will. Perhaps I am jealous of other films getting him, but I thought this film was a bit pedestrian and predictable (maybe it was supposed to be) elevated by great performances. It was an interesting conceit but it still seemed to excuse the charming Murray for his bad behaviour, even if you did end up feeling sorry for his actually slightly empty existence. I didn’t really by that Marlon Wayans wouldn’t do more to reassure his wife and though I felt it likely that he wasn’t going to be guilty (spoilers), he did make himself look guilty. If my wife found another woman’s toiletries in my suit case and there was an innocent explanation I’d be bending over so far backwards that I’d be forwards again to reassure her that I wasn’t up to no good. 

Wayans did a good job though and I love Rashida Jones and super love Bill Murray, so even though it felt a bit stretched out and flat, it was still superior to most films and did make me think about the way we’re tugged in different directions and that I am ultimately very lucky to have been tugged in the direction of family, in spite of 40 years of reticence. 

But the kids were at their grandparents again and though I missed them a little bit as we enjoyed an afternoon and evening to ourselves, it was also amazing to have this time for us. Amazing to be in a restaurant and a cinema and to be treating ourselves, after a year where such things were so alien.

We drove into central London in 70 minutes and got home in 65. The bright lights are further away, but they are in reach.