- Secondary glazing cuts drafts and sound from outside, who knew? Well, of course it does, but we put it in to prevent a repeat of last month's window-smashing episode, and it's just a happy chance that it's now about 5 degrees warmer in the front hall than it was before. However, I can no longer hear the school bus pulling up outside.
- The Hobbit film was good, but it would have been better if they had not decided to heat the cinema to approximately 35 degrees Celsius when everyone was dressed in winter clothes. I managed not to faint, but comfortable it was not. I liked it, but it has to be said that Peter Jackson a little too obviously didn't have any new ideas at all for this and was just recycling everything from the LotR films. Also it went on for ever and ever and ever, especially the fight scenes. I wanted more Bilbo being a trickster, not Bilbo waving a sword all over the place. But the scene with Gollum was excellent, and the other bit I adored was all the dwarves singing at the end of the Bag End scene; that raised the hairs on the back of my neck (and also evidently came across well in utero, judging from the baby's reaction). Thorin and Bilbo were both played well, and though I'm not entirely convinced by the attempt to turn Thorin into an Aragorn-esque character, I can see why they did it. It was a fun way to spend some time and as ever, the scenery and costuming and general look of the thing was wonderful.
- At breakfast this morning my son suddenly burst into a spirited (and entirely in-tune) rendition of 'Riu Riu Chiu', which he cannot have heard anywhere since last year, but has remembered the entirety of since then. This is what people mean when they talk about little islets of ability in severe autism.
- I wrote a drabbly thing about Aral and Simon for hedda62 the other day; here it is:
Cordelia walked into the library, then stopped. Aral was sitting on the deep low sofa, head back against the cushions, eyes closed. Beside him sat Simon, his posture wholly tilted towards Aral. One of Aral's arms was around him, the other hand rested on the top of Simon's head, and Simon too was asleep. Cordelia looked at them, and felt a strange flicker of memory, of Count Piotr dozing on the sofa at Vorkosigan Surleau with one of his favourite hounds curled against him.
She blinked and the flicker was gone, and she saw two very tired friends whose conversation had evidently turned to sleep while she'd been gone. She took a step, and Simon moved a little, eyes opening. Aral moved too, gave a grunt, and smoothed his hand on Simon's head. Simon subsided, and Cordelia smiled. Perhaps her first impression had been the right one.
Crossposted at http://philomytha.dreamwidth.org/98