Tony Grist (poliphilo) wrote,
Tony Grist

Slumdog, Poached Eggs, Gordon Brown, Lent

Yes, I'm pleased about Slumdog Millionnaire. It may be everything Judy says it is- softcore liberal pap designed to tickle the tastebuds of the Hollywood voters (I haven't seen it yet) but I don't believe any Hollywood studio would have had the nerve to make it- not without sticking a Caucasian male in there somewhere.  Danny Boyle- if not quite an auteur- has a record of making films that are both feisty and commercial- and create the taste they exploit. Besides, he's not only a Brit, he's a Lancastrian; he comes from Bury- a small town about ten miles from here.

We bought an egg poacher yesterday. I haven't owned one since I don't know when. I love poached eggs. I had them for tea yesterday and I think I'll have them for tea again today.

If I write very little about politics these days, it's because I find our current government so disgusting I'd end up spluttering. They took us into an illegal war, they colluded in torture and detention without trial, they helped create the current recession by feather-bedding bankers, they legislated away our historic liberties. Our current, unelected prime minister is a galumphing, self-righteous coward- and  heads a cabinet of  greedy, unimaginative, dull-witted, corporate drones. The gap between elected and electors has never been wider- and- if Britain were a country with any serious history of revolution, I'd be predicting blood on the streets. See! Just as I said I would- I'm spluttering.

Ailz has been debating what to give up for Lent. I think she's settled on yeast. So, no crumpets, croissants or hot-cross buns. No toast. No cake. I refuse to take religion that seriously. According to the research I conducted- swiftly and superficially- this morning, the origin of Lent lies in the 40 days mourning of Inanna for Tammuz (much deplored by the prophet Ezekiel) - a discovery that goes some way towards reconciling me to it. But, no, just because I've started going back to church doesn't mean I've laid aside or pacified my Daddy-issues.  And if a gang of long-dead hierarchs thinks it can tell me what I can or can't have for breakfast it's got another think coming.  
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