Last night I dreamt that I encountered Daniel Hill in Berkeley Square Gardens and simply had to ask for his autograph. I have always felt as if I'm his only fan, and so, apparently, does my subconscious, as he proceeded to grin very broadly when I asked him and then went on to quote a whole poem on this piece of paper before finally signing it (in a very childish handwriting, I might add). I then went to the nearby Jaguar shop to buy a car.

In part two of this dream, Michael Palin (no need for a link there, I should hope!) had become president of the UK, and made everyone stop what they were doing at 8.30 in the morning to salute his image and chant something preposterous which included the words 'hail' and 'supreme being'. I was shocked (and no, there is no way my subconscious thinks Palin is anywhere close to that characterisation). It then turned out that he had also ordered every child (up to the age of 40, apparently) to be sent to orphanages spread across each city. I was deemed too important for being imprisoned, though, as I was an excellent diver (never dived in my life) and there was a serious threat from a band of sea monsters we had to deal with. I was given the command of the national diving team (bit of narcissism shining through there, ahem...), and we went on our dangerous mission via a local pool where there were several people with their kids (strangely enough, seeing as they should all have been locked up). One of those was Bill Paxton (I was watching Frailty yesterday) with his borrowed two-year-old, who morphed into Ed Harris (probably because I think Paxton is a nice guy) and threw an absolute fit when he thought I was too slow to move out of the way as they were leaving. We finally got into the pool and started descending into the water, as I awoke. My bet is that we got rid of the monsters and saved the world.

In the spirit of the Red Dwarf guys recording commentaries on Back to Earth today, I am going to watch Back to Reality (S5E6) with commentaries now.

Labels: daniel hill, dreams, humour, michael palin, personal, red dwarf

Yes, I say "we", because whomever is going to be elected in the US will have a huge impact on all of us. *bites her nails frantically*

It was only a matter of time. Michael Palin is clearly the best candidate of the two Palins. Thanks to rickfan37 for sharing!

Labels: current affairs, humour, michael palin

...and not just any kind of hair. A pubic hair was waiting for me when I got back to work after my holiday; neatly placed on my keyboard. I choose not to think about how it got there.

I have to say, the thought of Jason Donovan in drag amuses me, and for some reason it makes perfect sense.

Well, the last Proms concert was terrific, although I have to admit I could hardly choose between all the different parks, because there was a lot of salivating going on when I checked the different line-ups. I guess this digital telly revolution is giving me too much choice after all (even though there never seems to be anything on when you want to just spend the day on the sofa, glaring at the box) (that's the telly, not...something else) (perv!)

Not too sure about the Tess of the d'Urbevilles thingie; the only reason why I lasted beyond the first 20 minutes, was Ian Puleston-Davies (for any Norwegians out there, that's pronounced poll-stn. Perv!) After that, I pulled out my trusty RadioTimes and read up on the story, which proved to seem more interesting as it went along. No, I am not familiar with Hardy to begin with.

Yesterday, after work, I pulled out all my CDs and started sorting them into "have been ripped to mp3" and "have not yet been ripped" (AKA "may have been ripped earlier, but then deleted again from the hard drive for reasons unknown, or actually probably because I never listened to them anyway and needed the space"). And then, guess what? Well, I started ripping them, dumb-ass! Boy, there were a few CDs there that I had all but forgotten. Some of them I sort of wish I had forgotten, but no chance there. Still, to make my collection as complete as possible, plus taken into account the fact that the CDs aren't getting any younger and sturdier and I certainly won't buy any of them ever again, I need to rip them all (ok, with a few exceptions due to their being of too embarrassing a nature--the fact that I have them in the first place). There were quite a few I was surprised to see I hadn't already ripped, too. Like all of my Monty Python records. I mean, OMGWTF??? I love those guys! They're the reason for my anglophilia, nerdiness, sense of humour and accent! (OK, I can't blame them for my Norwegian accent; I mean the accent I try to emulate when speaking English.) They are, in effect, the real reason for my moving to the UK! It all started with poor, old Michael Palin (which means I am highly annoyed these days when the name Palin is mentioned everywhere and it always turns out to be someone else than him...but hopefully this will only last for a couple more months (fingers crossed for a sensible election this time--we've waited slack-jawed for too long now; we're developing nervous tics!))

Where was I? On my way down Politics Lane again? Sheesh...well, I'm not done yet. Still, concentrate on the CDs for now. Let's see...oh yeah, I found an old album by a Norwegian band calling themselves Innocent Look; it's even been signed by the guys. Oooh. The problem is that they're so unknown they don't even have a profile on Last.fm. I mean, I have a profile on Last.fm, and they don't. How sad is that? I also found quite a few compilation albums I had forgotten all about, but I used to listen to them a lot there for a while. They bring back memories. Good and bad, embarrassing and sad, fun and...something else rhyming with -ad, perhaps.

Anyway, back to watching The Daily Show. How tragic is the situation when you have to turn to Jon Stewart to get the latest news from the US?

Labels: comedy, current affairs, michael palin, Monty Python, music, musicals, personal, theatre, TV

Had a wonderful evening yesterday, as we went to see/hear the recording of two episodes of the new radio sitcom Cabin Pressure at the BBC. Now, the main reason for my going, was Roger Allam, who seemed to be in a great mood (despite what must be a stressful period, what with the first preview of Afterlife tomorrow and all), but I had a jolly time watching Stephanie Cole (I've been a Waiting for God fan for many years), Benedict Cumberbatch and Matilda Ziegler as well. The whole thing was actually very funny (even the second time around, when they had to do some retakes), and I will definitely listen to it on the radio whenever it premieres.

Now, anyone who knows me really well knows that I am a bit of an anglophile, and that this could all be traced back to poor ol' Michael Palin. In my early teens, when I was at the height of my Monty Python obsession, I used to say that I would do anything to have a job at the BBC. Since then I have always had this awe for the channel (which is rather ridiculous, but there you go), and my road to a job there is very long, it appears. I once bought some 3.5" diskettes because they were made by the BBC (yes, an odd thing for a TV corporation to make, I know). I also saved last week's envelope in which the tickets for the show came. Yet, it didn't quite hit me until I had been there for about 15 minutes yesterday, that I was actually finally inside a BBC building, after having stared longingly at Broadcasting House in Shepherd's Bush on my way to and fro work these past few years. And then I forgot about it just as quickly, to be honest, so obviously not so remarkable after all, haha!

Anyway, look out for Cabin Pressure on Radio 4. Some time.

He-hey, seems I already have a tag for Roger Allam. The seriousness of my fandom is creeping up on me.

Labels: comedy, michael palin, Monty Python, radio, roger allam

Been looking forward to the tenth of October for a long time.

The day started with "a local grocery store" delivering groceries (duh) to us, so now I won't have to go shopping for a long time. ;-)

Then I did some housewifey things I seldom do, i.e. I ironed some clothes. Don't think I've done that in years.

At half four we left for the tube, by which we finally ended up at the Strand, where we had supper at a local Italian restaurant (with no Italian waiters, even though there were a lot of waiters--we had at least four during the 90 minutes we were there). I thought the food was nice. I even had dessert. Couldn't finish it, but that's not the point.

After supper we crossed the street and went to see...drum roll, please...yep, that musical again. I had been touching wood for six weeks every time I was afraid of Philip Quast not turning up, and I grinned broadly when I could see his name on the board in the foyer.

Still didn't believe it until I saw his understudy (the increasingly unpopular (in my circles) Mark Houlihan - but that's because he tried to out-sing Quast, a feat which will be neither forgotten nor forgiven) perform in one of the earlier ensemble scenes. I could breathe easily for the first time in weeks.

The point is, we had paid through our noses for these seats and up till tonight I have been unfortunate enough to miss Quast in 33% of the performances I went to specifically to hear him sing, so it was crucial he was there. Since I went with my flatmate I wouldn't have left if he weren't, but I would definitely not have sat through yet another performance with his understudy.

I know, I'm bad.

Well, the show was bloody brilliant again (my fourth performance so far), and even though we sat close to someone who stank from hell and back (think old gym clothes), that did not ruin the experience.

Just one thing--maybe I'm being picky here...or just creepy--unmarried men are usually supposed to not wear wedding rings, right? So, basically, for authenticity, actors should also leave their own rings behind when entering the stage to portray single people? ;-)

And now for something completely different. From one idol to the next, actually. I watched the Michael Palin special on BBC 2 during the weekend and as soon as it ended dragged my flatmate with me into the sitting room, where we watched his first (and, in my opinion, second best) travel series, Around the World in 80 Days (hmm, interesting to see that three of my biggest favourites have appeared in different "versions" of that story...and no, the 1989 film with Brosnan and Idle is not among those). I must have seen the series at least five times, but it is still a great watch and also brings back a lot of memories. It is, after all, the programme which made me a fan of Palin's. I actually know exactly where I became a fan...which is either sad, obsessive, creepy or all of the above.

Never mind that, I am going to bed. Been a long day and I have just one day left of my holiday. I need to land first.

It took me at least four times of hearing it before I realised that Madonna tried to say "Ik ben trouwig" in the intro to her song "Sorry". Duh.

And if any Norwegians out there wonder why haven't mentioned the death of Jan Werner Danielsen it is simply because I still cannot believe it. I read about it a few hours after they found him and I was in shock. I'm very fortunate that I saw him performing live at least twice. It is such a loss.

Labels: comedy, evita, film, food, linguistics, michael palin, music, musicals, online shopping, personal, philip quast, theatre, TV

The 5th of May always has a very special ring to me.

Happy Birthday to Michael Palin, the ultimate reason for why I live in London, who is 63 today! Yay! Other things have happened in the interim and Mr. Palin is no longer the only reason for my moving here, but he will still be The One That Sparked the Interest. Of course, driving past the BBC Television Centre every day truly re-sparks the interest. Sigh.

Work is going well, I'm not a complete failure and hopefully I will stay here for a long while longer. I'm actually looking forward to going to work. I haven't felt like that since...ever, I think. Of course, it could have something to do with my co-workers. It could definitely have something to do with my previous co-workers.

Yesterday saw the True Start of Summer, as we had what the Evening Standard called 'a heatwave'. It was 28 degrees outside and I noticed that my pace was not as quick as usual. The tube was not exactly a joyful place to stand, dressed for early spring and with a non-existing personal space for 45 minutes. Still, I did survive and treated myself with some 'Chunky Monkey' when I got home. And no, that's not a sexual innuendo.

It's an ice cream.

Stop sniggering.

Deep breath.

And we're back.

So the weekend will land in a few hours and I'm already looking forward to going back to work. How sad is that. I mean, it would have been fine if it were The Job, you know, the dream job I've always wanted, but it's not even anywhere near it! I must be in love or something. Or just very, very happy there are money coming into my account at last.

And they're showing repeats of Waking the Dead, why wouldn't I be happy?

Current track: Nada.

Labels: michael palin, personal, trevor eve, TV

I'm moving house at the moment and that means I have a lot of tidying up to do. I'm very attached to memories, but this time around I've decided to be very firm and throw away most things that I haven't used for years. That actually includes my old Amiga 500!!! My apologies to classic gamers out there, but read a bit further to understand my decision: Mouse. Nest. Pee. I wouldn't risk turning on the old bugger only to be fried. There are plenty of emulators out there. So my trusty Friend, AKA Mike Amiga (yes, I named it) (I was nine) (excuses, excuses), whose input devices hardly work anymore, will have to die. The same goes for my old typewriter. Let's face it, if I would want to go back to "the good old days" I would much rather choose a manual typewriter, not the electrical one I've got. Might as well use a computer then.

So, the mouse, who was also named (Kåre) (not by me), turned up to frighten me in the middle of the tidying up and after that I hardly touched anything before my companion had checked everything. Twice. I'm such a wuss. I mean, I'm used to gerbils and hamsters, for god's sake, and Kåre was very cute, but I guess the surprise factor got to me. Anyway, he'd had the most wonderful time partying amongst most of my things, so I basically rescued what I could and threw away all the rest. What a clever little creature, shortening the time I used for tidying up so well!

No matter, I did find quite a lot of old memories. Photos. Postcards. Letters. Upon letters. I was an avid letter writer until I discovered the 'Net. A few years after that, too. But then it all died out. I found letters just now from people I couldn't remember ever having written to. I had penfriends all over the world. I was probably the one who ended the friendship in most cases, by not replying all of a sudden. Very me.

I also found my old wallets, which brings me to the point du jour. (Speaking of points; what the hell went on during the Eurovision Song Contest? Ooh, the less said, the better, I suppose.) My oldest wallet, which I believe I was given by a classmate back in year two, when I was popular (that didn't last, LOL, when they found out how weird I was), is white (-ish) and has lots of writing on it. On one side you can more or less clearly see the following, astounding, names: Kiefer Sutherland, Charlie Sheen, Ralph Macchio, Prince, Andy Bell (singer, Erasure)...so far, so good. Then, after a bit of squinting and turning of the wallet, I can make out Twisted Sister being written there. But then...Nigel Havers, Peter Coyote, Eric Idle, Michael York (really? Can't remember that), Michael Palin and Dustin Hoffman. Now, the latter two plus Nigel I still like quite a lot, but not "like that". I remember my old diary had Tom Cruise and Paul Newman written side by side on the cover. I have to admit I put Tom's name there to balance things out, because I've never fancied him. LOL! Ah, the memories...

Labels: computers, dustin hoffman, erasure, michael palin, music, personal, TV

Actually, I'm going to go a bit further back in time, to the eighties. What brought this on, I hear you mumbling. Well, last night I watched this BBC programme from 1985 in which they talked about personal computers (or "micros", as they appear to have been calling them at one point in time) and mobile technology. First of all, the mobile phone they were talking about was the brand new cellular technology (ring any bells? LOL!) that had just arrived from the US. New York already had 10,000 subscribers to the network after only six months of availability. The UK was planning on making the network available to 90% of the UK mainland. :D And the phone they were showing was "without a cord, honest!" and really handy (in a suitcase kind of way). I nearly fell off my chair laughing. But the funniest part was when they talked about the BBS (bulletin board system, anyone familiar with computers from the seventies and eighties know what these were, the rest should watch Wargames, which is a brilliant contemporary film about computers - I never tire of it); BBC had its own BBS which had had so many visitors during the previous month that it had collapsed, but now they'd installed "a brand new 15 megabyte harddrive system" and everything should work like a dream.

Anyway, the computers they were talking about (and showing (off)) were one of the Spectrum (Speccy) machines (that year's bestseller), the Commodore 64 (C64) (that year's runner-up), the BBC Micro B and one of the Atari machines (the 800, I presume). I've been fiddling around with emulators ever since I realised they existed back in 199x, simply because I love all that older technology. Also, there are programs and games for these old systems that you can't find anywhere else anymore. One of my all-time favourite games is one for the C64 and is a pinball game (Magic Pinball). Due to the fact that the C64 only had a 320x200 maximum graphical mode, there was a very limited number of sprites (graphical icon or figure, basically) allowed on screen at any time. That also meant that the ball could only follow certain patterns every time, and after a short while of practice you would know exactly where to hit the ball in order for it to go where you wanted it to.

I am, however, looking for a game for the Commodore 16/Plus 4. It was a text adventure game and the only thing I remember about it was that there was a rope featured at the very beginning. I played this when I went to a summer course in England in '89 and have never seen it since (especially since I never owned one of those machines; I went straight to the Amiga 500). Doesn't really matter that much, I just find myself remembering it now and then. We stayed at a school which was closed for the summer, and they had a computer lab there with about...ooh, I'd say roughly three and a half machines. ;-) Three of us sneaked around to the other rooms and gathered power supplies (I remember scaring one of the maids that way once, as I was hiding behind a door, clutching the power supply and pretending not to be doing anything wrong) before firing up one of the Commodore 16's they had there. We didn't actually do anything with the computers, because they had very few games and we didn't really know enough English to play around with the programs (thankfully).

Another game I've played a lot is Tracksuit Manager, on the C64. It's possibly the coolest sports management sim ever, and believe me, I love the (first four, full) Championship Manager games! It's just very simple and easy to learn and it's basically about winning. I know CM has got so much more to offer in way of micromanagement, that's why I love it, but still, TM is lots of fun.

Oops, just remembered I have to watch the last two episodes of Himalaya (eith Michael Palin) tonight, before lending it to my parents over Christmas. Guess that means I've got to go.

Current track: Nothing.

Labels: computers, history, holiday, michael palin, technology, TV

These days I'm celebrating my 15-year-old anglophilia. It all started when I was watching the third episode of Michael Palin's Around the World in 80 Days on Swedish telly. Sounds weird, doesn't it, that I know exactly when it started? That happens to me a lot. Sometimes feelings come creeping up on me, but most of the time I recollect the exact time and place for the catalyst of any life-alterning emotion I've had. So that's how I became an anglophile. It hasn't been easy being an anglophile in Norway, although it seems like I've probably been luckier than most non-English. Our TV channels import a lot of British programmes. We don't dub anything other than children's films, and those are usually shown in the original version as well. We're situated pretty close to the British Isles, so even though it costs a bit to get there, Norwegians are often to be found wandering the streets of London and Manchester (the latter being due to the enormous interest of football among Norwegian neanderthals sport fanatics). It's very difficult to find a Norwegian who hasn't been to England at least once. This is why the blatant ignorance about English culture among Norwegians baffles me. Even those who consider themselves to know a lot about English daily life are surprisingly clueless when it comes to politics, current events, well-known TV presenters, stand-up comedians, writers, local dialects and traits and especially the (sometimes very weird) English customs. I had a dreadful English teacher in sixth form who thought she was very up-to-date on everything English. We fell out during the first month and were on unfriendly terms for two years, when I graduated. We were always quarreling and unfortunately she was one of those teachers that give you bad marks if they don't like you. (Luckily our final exams counted quite a lot and were graded by someone else, phew!) I decided that I did not want to become like her; a behind-the-desk globetrotter who still looked back on her travels during her early twenties as the most glorious time of her life. She was in her late fifties, early sixties when she taught us.

Fifteen years into my anglophilia and I feel like I've only just started. There's a lot to learn and discover about those Isles and their inhabitants. I won't ever reach the end of it, but at least I'm doing my best. Of course, it'd be a lot easier if I was actually living there, but at least I've got the Internet to help me out.

Current track: Queen - I Was Born to Love You

Labels: michael palin, personal, sport, TV

So this is what Michael Palin's been doing lately!

Labels: michael palin, TV

It's obviously that time of year when I start publishing my Lists(TM); could be because I had a delicious supper, or just because I was getting tired of people constantly asking me which films I've got. So here is my film collection. I keep a huge database in Excel with loads more info than this, but I decided on just listing the titles here. I have kept my four categories, though: Normal, where most of my films are kept - these films are not among my favourites, but they were good enough for me to keep in my collection; Classic - older films (often in black and white), also not my absolute favourites; Must-see - newer films that I adore; Champ - classic films that I absolutely love.

Having browsed my newly updated list, I discovered that my Top Ten list of actors appearing in most films (in my collection, that is) is as follows:

William Hurt - 24 films
Alan Rickman - 18
Dustin Hoffman - 18
Geoffrey Rush - 18
John Cleese - 17
David Niven - 16
John Lithgow - 16
Sir Alec Guinness - 16
James Garner - 15
Michael Palin - 14

Further investigations left me with these additions - these are the ones that appear in ten or more films within my collection:

Christopher Walken - 12 films
Kenneth Branagh - 12
Alfred Molina - 11
Kevin Kline - 11
Bruce Willis - 10 (What? Must be the Die Hard films.)
Eric Idle - 10

The first actress appearing on the list is right beneath Eric Idle with her nine films; Emma Thompson. We need more parts for women in the film industry!

Current track: D12 - How Come

Labels: Alan Rickman, alec guinness, alfred molina, david niven, dustin hoffman, film, geoffrey rush, james garner, john lithgow, kevin kline, lists, michael palin, william hurt

This has always been a very special date to me. A mix of events, I suppose. It's the birthday of Michael Palin, the man who indirectly made me an anglophile. Three years later, in 1992, I became a fan of William Hurt's on this date. A year ago, just past midnight so technically May the fifth, I met Philip Quast for the first time. Not "met" as in "how are you," more like "gnnhyh...uhmm...err..." But still. He was there, so was I, that's all that counts. :-) He'd just given me goosebumps from singing "Stars" from Les Misérables (I don't care what you may think; I still think he's the ultimate Javert) AND I'd just heard Tommy Körberg doing "Anthem" from Chess - basically, I was in heaven. So May 5 is a special date to me. I was hoping today was going to be another May 5 to remember, but alas. We went to see Van Helsing (which I believe was the world premiére) and it was an ok film, elevated because of Richard Roxburgh and Huge Jackson Hugh Jackman (and Alun Armstrong, but he wasn't in it for long). The comic relief of the film was David Wenham as a monk friar, although we suspected the whole film to be a farce at one point. Sadly, it wasn't. If it had been, I'd've given it a better rating at IMDb. ;-) Anyway, the actors were doing their best and the special effects weren't half bad; some of them were even outright brilliant, but the ones that were crap ruined the film for me. Oh, and did I mention the story was a wee bit weak? *rolls her eyes* Oh well, I soon learned to sit still and get into the film, so it was quite entertaining for a long while. Definitely not the worst film I've ever seen, but they could have done better, for instance by editing it down another twenty minutes or so.

Apart from that, work is a near-hell-experience these days and has been for months now, coincidentally starting at around the same time my boss finally lost it completely. I swear I'm not lying when I tell you he's in need of some serious therapy. And a shower. But there's no hope. I'm amazed I've lasted this long. I think about quitting three times a week but I haven't done it yet. I bet you he doesn't think I will. He'll have a heart attack when I eventually do. I'm hanging in there, though. No choice, unfortunately; I've got a mortgage, a student loan, a credit card and several bills to pay. All the while he's sitting there on his millions; he'll probably die of tightfistedness and a lack of friends.

Why I didn't apply and audition for drama school at some point, I don't know. I'm not saying it would have helped me paying the mortgage, far from it, but at least I would have been looking forward to going to work every day (after graduation, naturally).

I'm not in a bad mood, though. Just venting. And WHY do I always end up sitting next to someone who uses snuff when going to the cinema? What did I do wrong to deserve that? For one, it stinks. It looks really, REALLY stupid and they just don't get it. AND it's very damaging to one's health, but of course they're young and nothing bad will ever happen to them and yadiyadiyada. (I'm a reformed smoker, by the way, I know how hard it can be to kick the habit. I also know what a relief it is when you finally do.)

Current track: Bill Medley & Jennifer Warnes - (I've Had) The Time of My Life

Labels: film, Javert, michael palin, personal, philip quast, richard roxburgh, theatre, william hurt