Yesterday I spent in a reclining armchair watching stuff on TV. I watched Harry Potter and the Order of The Phoenix- a turbo-charged account of a leisurely novel- and the last three episodes of the BBC's new Torchwood series- which more than fulfilled the promise of the first two by turning all political and state-of-the-nationy. Russel T. Davies is a classic writer. He's produced a lot of tosh- much of it in the first two seasons of Torchwood- but when he gets things right he's outstanding. Torchwood: Children of Men is a masterpiece- bitter, shaming, heartening, kinky, sentimental, morally challenging, subversive- also very exciting and funny.
Last night I slept for 12 hours straight.