Unbalanced Vision

1) Renewed my Young Person's Railcard.
2) Bumped into my supervisor at the Department and had coffee. He appeared to be in a good mood.
3) Requested a form at the college library to renew my Senate House library card, but the form doesn't exist.
4) Borrowed The Knight of the Burning Pestle.
5) Met up with J and C to see Pride and Prejudice, oh, joy. Verdict: It's difficult to watch any adaptation of the book without comparing it to Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle (BBC), for the pair's portrayal was a favourite. Whilst some cannot forget the scene when Firth emerges from his backyard (ie a stately garden that is the size of a football stadium) wearing a see-through white shirt, I particularly like the bit when the grumpy man forces the words, 'I'm ardently in love with you'. In the new film, Matthew Macfadyen attempted to recreate the same affect by walking in the misty meadows, shirt unbuttoned, but something's not quite right there. Keira Knightly has a few strange facial expressions, but I like how the movie gives her moments of solitude. And lastly, whatever happened to Mr Bingley's hair? His mannerism are almost funnily awkward and gay. The movie version also shows affectionate scenes between the Bennett couple and the mother and daughter, which the TV series lacks. If the film has any success most of it is due to the wonderful story, which we now call, Austen Powers.
6) Later devoured chicken wings at Nando's.

Desk at Langton Close

Whilst scanning through photos I suddenly realised that the first cup I bought in England has now vanished in thin air. This is most tragic. I remember it still being present at my old flat near Regent's Park, where has it gone? This yellow cup was bought at Woolworths, and has accompanied me through my Master's year with cups of soothing English tea. No worries really. I don't lament its loss but the fact that I completely forgot it ever existed.

Teenagers in the hood are always dropping litter in the lift: chocolate wrappers, crisps packages, cigarettes... ewh! I am very tempted to stick a sign saying, 'Do Not Litter' or 'Don't be a Tosser', but that's just an invitation for insult. Or, I could knock on their doors kindly saying the reasons for my visit: I shall more likely be greeted with a punch in the face than a bonding session with the world's future promises. Once, I entered the front door of the building and saw a group of young girls in pink tracksuits sitting on the stairs munching crisps in the ugliest manner, and then leaving their rubbish on the floor. Later I came downstairs and noticed that a cleaner was telling them off, someone certainly needs to! I don't think the situation has improved, perhaps Singapore's fining and social service policy can be put into practice here.

The Horse Hospital

BFG's desk and chair

There was a bring-and-buy book sale held at The Horse Hospital; I went because I am a proud Bloomsbury resident and that there's a brand new The Phaidon Atlas of Contemporary World Architecture up for auction. Before it started, people were already queueing at the front door: the entry fee was either a book or one pound. The turnout was pretty good, bookworms kept crawling into the first floor, bringing in books to sell (at one quid each) and keep for their own. I circled the fair once and did not find anything I particularly wanted to buy, whilst some people were already piling up books in their hands. But the good thing about this event was that there's constantly new arrivals, one somehow may find a good bargain lying on the chair or on the table. HY was impressed by the range of sex genre. We didn't expect to go home with: Lempriere's Dictionary, On Tour with Renzo Piano, Crap Towns and Gemma Bovery to name a few, and of course, The Phaidon Atlas of Contemporary World Architecture is now claiming a coffee table space in my room.

After hanging around little bookish people, we cycled under the sun to Parliament Hill Fields, Hampstead Heath to see a giant's reading desk and table. The sculpture is rightly called, The Writer.

Open Doors

Model Houses for Families

My first Open House event builidng was the Parnell House on Streatham St. I preferred to see people's homes (the desire to probe into one's intimate space), and the sites have to be close to where I live (not too keen on long journeys). The building was finished in 1850 and designed by noble Henry Roberts to provide decent housing for the working class. I was greeted by a lady with crooked teeth, then led into the courtyard where a talk was taking place. Later we were allowed in one of the apartments: small and strange deco. One wall was filled with little picture frames, and the living room had a closet of dolls and animals. The doll standing next to the couch was quite freaky, I wouldn't want to be left in the flat alone at night. The special parts of the interior was the curved ceiling and a hole where you can sweep in all the dust, so they will automatically land in a communal bin (invented by Roberts). I didn't stay too long and hope to see something more modern on the second day.

On Thursday I went to a symposium held at the University of Sussex. The topic was mildly related to what I am working on, but I thought hearing different approaches may be helpful. Plus, a small display of the Travers collection was arranged, to which the organiser described in the e-mail that it would be 'a day of fun'. As usual, the train was delayed on the way there and back. There was a signal failure and a power failure, and the terribly, terribly British thing to do is to sit in silence and read your book. Also it was my first time to be on a split up train, when at a certain stop the front carriages will head to a different destination--very scary indeed. For the first few minutes I was picturing myself in the wrong coach and then chasing the departing train just like in the movies. People-wise, I met a person who used to work in the book trade and another who was a theatre director. Not saying it is the beginnng of a friendship, but maybe I shall see them again.

Apparently I hold a different view from Simon Hoggart: watching The Aristocrats was tantamount to listening to sermons on a Sunday morning. All I'm asking for is a plot with a beginning, middle and an end, but what I get is boring filth. I suppose I would laugh wholeheartedly at a stand-up comedy, but not when the joke is repeated a thousand times throughout the movie. Yes, you tell me each comedian brings their unique character to the telling of the story (ie the guy with the pack of cards), yet I don't need to hear it again and again. There were some interesting points discussed, for instance, 1) why would a society that does not have aristocrats find the joke so hilarious? 2) The tightrope act of Gilbert Godfrey's performance shortly after 9/11. However, they were instantly drowned in the swamp of human excrement. Gosh, Godfrey has such an annoying strident voice.

On my way to work, in my thoughts I have already awarded myself a thousand Doctorates, imagined people addressing me as a doctor instead of a miss, appeared on the Saturday Guardian and not to forget, I've also won the lottery!! When I win the lottery I will buy a house in Hampstead Heath and a flat in Barbican. During the London bombings I've also saved a hundred tube passengers and the word 'hero' was used in the next day newspaper headlines. Lofty dreams are harmless; it quickens my pace and soon my footsteps carry me in front of the bookshop.

Pig Personality Test

Toward the middle, you are a realist.
Facing left, you believe in tradition, are friendly, and remember dates (birthdays, etc.)
With few details, you are emotional and naive, they care little for details and are a risk-taker.
With 4 legs showing, they are secure, stubborn, and stick to their ideals.
The size of the ears indicates how good a listener you are.
The bigger the better. You drew small ears, you are an OK listener.
The length of the tail indicates the quality of your sex life.
And again more is better! You drew medium sized tail.

I haven't thought of the possibility of making Notes on a Scandal into a film, but now the idea is in the oven I realise the plot is brilliant material for the screen. This book came to my attention because it has a yellow shiny Booker shortlist sticker on the cover, and the judge that year, John Carey, said there was not one word extra in the novel. Once I turned the first page it was very hard to stop. At the time the dark story was incredibly intriguing; I liked the way 'class' was discussed, and am interested to know how far a society can accept absurd/abnormal behaviour? And what is normal; who decides normality? Now after recommending some friends to read the book and discussing it, I am thinking that this is merely an easy beach read, sort of like a novel version of tabloid newspapers. Is it the subject-matter that proved it unworthy of being the winner, not the stuff that makes 'grand' literature? My friend also considers the speaker a lesbian which I strongly disagree. Anyways, I suppose the actresses are well chosen, except for the fact that I adore Cate Blanchett and would not like her to portray this easily manipulated woman in the book.

The short list is up! For those of us so inclined, why not dash to the nearest bookshop to buy all six, read it and judge for yourselves--if you have the time, that is. I've read none of them, and can't wait to lay my hands on Never Let Me Go first. I'm also curious about the voting process, of who was neglected or who was hard to exclude. All I know now is that I'll definitely be sitting in front of the telly on 10/10 when they announce the winner--so like showbiz, so pathetic, and yet, so fun!

An Extras-esque moment: after wishing my boss a belated happy birthday, I asked if he felt that he was ageing? What the hell was I thinking??