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Le Weekend
"So love," said the taxi driver yesterday, "heading out for a bit of retail therapy?"
Well, not really. I was looking forward to a day at the art gallery and such with my friends, though, of course, I ended up spending on random stuff. Accursed retail therapy! I paid a visit to that musty secondhand book store in the city centre and picked up an English-Russian dictionary, Abbé Prevost by Manon Lescaut, The Great Gatsby (I am so sick of being the only person in the world not to have read this book) and a Horrible Histories book on the Incas. (Yes, I know they're essentially written for children, but they're seriously fun to read!) Those books cost me £5 all told, so that was good.
I took in a gorgeous exhibition at the Walker Art Gallery with Pen and Chris, composed of random pieces of art by Frances McDonald and James Herbert McNair. I swear, it's quite galling to look back on how much effort was ploughed into promoting the arts in Liverpool at the turn of the 20th century and how even the blueprints for the simplest of posters are so fascinating and beautiful, for example:
I wish I lived in the early 1900s. Well, except for little things like the 'flu pandemic and lack of internets.
We had lunch at La Vina, a tapas bar where the food was good but the waitress was fun, honest and friendly, so we bucked the European trend and left a decent tip. We then went to see Pan's Labyrinth at FACT (a cinema where the seats are couches, with a distinct lack of chavs and beer on tap is Nirvana). It was a strange, strange film, but then I expected that. All the cast were very good, though I thought that Mercedes was a particularly good character, all strength and honour. I loved her.
However, it was awesome to see a story brought to life with such vitality. I wish that someone would adapt The Shadow of the Wind. I'd be first in line to see it.
Afterwards, we shared a bottle of wine, then escorted Pen back to the train station. Except it was the wrong one? Er, yeah. Chris and I joined one of his friends to see an indie band whose name escapes me, they were just that awesome. I think it was Blood Red something or another. Hmph.
Finally arrived home at about 1am or something with pizza, much to the delight of my dad and sister, greedy gits. Exhausted after fitting all that into one day, I've lazed around today and read fanfic. Whoo!
Hope you all had an awesome weekend, too. :D
Well, not really. I was looking forward to a day at the art gallery and such with my friends, though, of course, I ended up spending on random stuff. Accursed retail therapy! I paid a visit to that musty secondhand book store in the city centre and picked up an English-Russian dictionary, Abbé Prevost by Manon Lescaut, The Great Gatsby (I am so sick of being the only person in the world not to have read this book) and a Horrible Histories book on the Incas. (Yes, I know they're essentially written for children, but they're seriously fun to read!) Those books cost me £5 all told, so that was good.
I took in a gorgeous exhibition at the Walker Art Gallery with Pen and Chris, composed of random pieces of art by Frances McDonald and James Herbert McNair. I swear, it's quite galling to look back on how much effort was ploughed into promoting the arts in Liverpool at the turn of the 20th century and how even the blueprints for the simplest of posters are so fascinating and beautiful, for example:
I wish I lived in the early 1900s. Well, except for little things like the 'flu pandemic and lack of internets.
We had lunch at La Vina, a tapas bar where the food was good but the waitress was fun, honest and friendly, so we bucked the European trend and left a decent tip. We then went to see Pan's Labyrinth at FACT (a cinema where the seats are couches, with a distinct lack of chavs and beer on tap is Nirvana). It was a strange, strange film, but then I expected that. All the cast were very good, though I thought that Mercedes was a particularly good character, all strength and honour. I loved her.
I cried at the end; I suppose the ending was left open for the viewer to decide if Ofelia's world was 'real' or not, but I don't think it was. Her escaping into a fantasy world was so sad and pathetic. I don't think she would have been truly happy even if she had gone to live with Mercedes, so in the end, death was the happiest ending she could have. Perhaps I'm too maudlin, but it seemed like such a terrible microcosm of the Spanish Civil War itself. Spain carried the weight of Franco's reign and Fascist oppression right up until his death in the 1970s, and so although the film ended on a hopeful note for the republicans gathered there, there would be no happy ending for decades to come. I think it also reminded me of that infamous Madrid: If you tolerate this... poster of that child murdered by the Fascists and so although the film was as much fantasy as the labyrinth, the reality of children dying for no reason still happened. Whatever. It was really sad.
However, it was awesome to see a story brought to life with such vitality. I wish that someone would adapt The Shadow of the Wind. I'd be first in line to see it.
Afterwards, we shared a bottle of wine, then escorted Pen back to the train station. Except it was the wrong one? Er, yeah. Chris and I joined one of his friends to see an indie band whose name escapes me, they were just that awesome. I think it was Blood Red something or another. Hmph.
Finally arrived home at about 1am or something with pizza, much to the delight of my dad and sister, greedy gits. Exhausted after fitting all that into one day, I've lazed around today and read fanfic. Whoo!
Hope you all had an awesome weekend, too. :D