By the way, that incident the police were here about? Murder. Nice.

So Ali came to my door yesterday as I was playing Chrono Trigger and stood there for about ten or fifteen minutes going on and on about how amazingly cheap his electricity company was in comparison to mine. He was a smooth-talker and a fast one at that, so I never got the chance until the very end to tell him that I wasn't the only one living here and I couldn't make such a decision on my own. I was lying. He was stupid enough to show me the form I had to fill out and I thought "he'll need to come inside in order to fill all this out and my sitting room looks like a complete mess". We haven't quite unpacked yet. It's like the boxes multiply during the night. I'm also getting fed up of IKEA Edmonton (the one where they had to close down shortly after the opening because of all the commotion). It's a nice place, but it's a hassle getting there and we don't have a car so we have to order home delivery. Which is a bitch if you've forgotten something, like we did.

Something spectacular happened here yesterday, though. I got up, had a shower and when I came back to my bedroom I turned on the radio and listened to Jonathan Ross live. After more than two years of listening to his show (religiously, every Saturday) through the internet, I was finally able to listen to it on my own radio, and in the right time zone, even!

I feel I have to mention two things off the telly. Yesterday I watched Holiday Showdown on ITV2 as per usual (nothing like watching a good row while having supper), and every week those people increase my blood pressure. First of all, the producers naturally put together people who are as farthest away from each other when it comes to hobbies and interests as humanly possible. So when the chavs go on holiday with the posh, there's bound to be a lot of clashing. Now, this is very important: It doesn't matter how high-brow you think you are. One: They only pick the most extreme families for the programme. You're weird no matter what. Two: Let's face it. You can't be very high-brow since you watch ITV. Stop pretending.

The other programme I want to mention is The Girl in the Café, a new film by Richard Curtis which was shown on BBC1 last night. I thought the script was really good, but then I'm inclined to like whatever Curtis does. The comedy part of it was delivered wonderfully by the immensely talented Bill Nighy - top-billed for once, probably because they've realised he steals any scene his in anyway - and Kelly MacDonald was spot on as the slightly bewildered "girl in the café", looking worried and whispering her lines most of the time. As you may or may not know, this year's G8 summit takes place in Scotland in the beginning of July, as from what was discussed in the film it is pretty clear that Curtis is very much involved with the Live8 concerts and the whole idea behind it. It's a bit of an extension to his already well established Comic Relief in that the BBC gives him a prime time slot in order to plead for Africa. However, the day the leaders of the UK, Japan, Russia, Canada, Germany, France, Italy and the US want to waiver all debt, increase the aid enough for the poor African countries to actually have a real future and trade with them in a fair manner is the day when the rest of us spontaneously combust out of amazement.

On a happier and sillier note, I had a fantastic dream the other night. Apparently, I was the student vice president at some high school and was about to turn thirty (so this'll probably happen in a few years). We were planning a huge concert with people from all over the world performing traditional songs and dances, but this was all a cover-up of the real concert, which was in my honour (megalomaniac much?). My friends had put their lovely heads together and come up with a long list of my favourite performers (most of whom were actors, strangely enough, ahem...). All of them had accepted the invitation, even those who were sick. Kevin Kline was the first one out, and he had broken his ankles and hurt his back, but still he found the energy to hop around singing some song while frantically trying to find me in the audience (he had obviously only been told where I was seated, and I had moved when I found out it was a surprise birthday celebration). I want to extend my apologies to Mr. Kline right now. Unfortunately, since I live in a rather noisy neighbourhood, I woke up just as they announced the host for the evening (a certain Mr. Quast), so I don't really know who else was on the long list of performers, but I know the whole thing took place in different arenas and that even I had to have tickets for each show, one of which was the world premiere of Dogma...hmmm...

Well, I probably promised you pictures of my new place - here's about one sixth of my skyline at night:




Current track: Morrissey & Siouxsie - Interlude

Labels: bill nighy, current affairs, dreams, film, humour, kevin kline, personal, philip quast, radio, TV