Had to go to bloody Kings College Hospital for another feckin' check. My lungs seem to be reasonably functional, anyhow, thank the gods.
Went on to Clapham Junction. One pair of green shoes left...I'm pretty sure, tough, that they'd hurt my heel on the same spot that the other DMs used to, and I don't NEED leprechaun-green Mary Janes. Why am I even faffing about it?
Got to see all of RED RIVER at last. I really, honestly did enjoy it...All those wide-open spaces, and rousingly cornball music, and cowboys admiring each other's guns, and beautiful B&W.
I also saw and greatly enjoyed ME AND ORSON WELLES, and think I would have even if Mr Welles wasn't a favourite obsession. I like films that recreate Old New York. ( There was a fair bit of it left, when I was a young 'un, but I'm told it's very different nowadays.)
Speaking of sacred monsters, my little Nureyev vignette is nearly done. Hup!
On EASTENDERS, tormented Syed has just downed a bottle of vodka and pills. he was saved by his dad, Masood,who wants to run away from it all, with Jane Beal! . His puritancal, mad mum Zainab thinks it would be better if S had died, rather than go on living as a gay abomination.
Christian is so anguished, he's howling under Syed's window, with his chest hair unclipped, in an ill-fitting tracksuit, going to wrack and ruin. He doesn't yet know Sy is in the Mitchell Memorial Wing.Oy!
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