Sunday, 10 April 2016

Sunday Summary | Shake it up, shake it out ...

Dear FOQ 

... I've exhausted the enticing drinks analogies for the time being. We're onto song lyrics now. And, props to the first person who guesses the lyrics correctly (maybe a Mars Bar too, if you're lucky).


This week, I have mostly been ...


Liz is in Indonesia now, gleaning all sorts of wisdom in broken English from a medicine man.

... I dunno, maybe it's me, but I can't engage with this book the way I expected to.

Maybe I've read it at the wrong time in my life. Maybe like the rest of the universe I should have read it ten years ago on publication. Meh.


... something other than Grey's Anatomy.

Yes! Believe it!

A second lockdown by Netflix this time on Unlocator resulted in my access to the US channel being stymied once again, so I've momentarily given up trying.

Instead, this week, I dabbled with The Aviator:

And again, could not engage.

Probably because Leo DiCaprio (or, Foetus-Face as he's known in the QB household) was not exactly diversifying in his performance. I also couldn't quite buy into Cate Blanchett's Katharine Hepburn speaking in an affected transatlantic actor drawl even off-camera.

So I leapt to the relative safety of Notes on a Scandal. 

What can I say? Oh look. More Cate Blanchett.

And in case my eyes hadn't begun boggling out of their sockets with just a little too much screen time:

 on Monday night I happened upon this documentary film on Netflix (UK):

My Beautiful Broken Brain.

Film-maker Lotje Sodderland had a stroke, age 34 -- 34! -- and made this film with director Sophie Robinson to detail her rehabilitation and recovery. (See also: this Guardian article from November 2014)

MBBB is an astounding account of the brain's capacity and limitations, once you get past the sheer terror of having the same thing happen to you in your mid-thirties (I'm not mid-to-late till I'm 38, remember...); one of Lotje's friends describes her as articulate, and she truly is, even with the language loss that means she struggles to remember simple words such as 'niece', to say the word 'record' without being prompted, or to point quickly and easily to her own shoulders. She explains her post-stroke condition with alarming clarity.

(And apparently I'm not the only person to think if this were made into a fiction film Carey Mulligan would absolutely have to play Lotje ...)



Finally ... because I didn't seem to be in any immediate danger of breaking my own brain with all the watching of screens and stuff, I watched the five-part BBC drama serial Thirteen:

{photo via here}

focusing on Ivy Moxam, who was abducted age 13 and held by a serial freakazoid in a cellar for thirteen years.

Moments of the serial were pretty darn far-fetched but it was a compact little binge-watch nonetheless. Also, 'twas fun to spot one or two places in Bristol that Ma QB and I had been near.

Thirteen can still be viewed in full on iPlayer.

So, apart from the compulsive DVD-and-iPlayer inhalation, I have also mostly been ...

Eating out like a grown-up

... at local hub of culinary excellence (and veh veh nice wine) The Home Cottage, where I did enjoy a shared charcuterie platter starter with my dinner companion, friend R, then did gorge myself on a truly delicious butterfly chicken in sauce that had some wonderfully 'kicky' mustard involved in it:

before sharing the amaretto crème brûlée with salted caramel ice cream (previously sampled and inhaled at this juncture in life).

'Twas a very civilised evening in very pleasant company.

With veh veh nice wine.


YES! Walking!

I do that!

Or, I did that for many hours! (Yuh, like you'd forgotten, gnarf.)

And then my toenail fell off!

And then I just... stopped!

But half an hour spent stomping the pavements on Wednesday evening has given me back The Fever. I won't bore you with the stats but I will bore you with -- ta-da! -- a map!

{Oh you know you've missed these bad boys!}

{Collage of rather hurriedly-taken ergo wonky shots ...}

I will never bore of seeing that windmill.

Hanging with Ms Jocelyne

... because it's been too long and because I felt the lady needed at least two bricks of emergency Battenberg in her life at one time, and we both needed to put the world to rights.

That's what Friday nights are for. That, and excellent curry, and much of Prosecco. Hic.

{photo by Jos}

Much love, Ms Jos.

Getting My Hair Did

{via here}

I rarely do blatant product placement inserts or promotional shout-outs but this one's a genuine one.

If you're within driving/train-riding/walking distance of Caterham, seek out the emporium of hair alchemy that is Dtail, and ask for Freya. Seriously, the girl is a magician. I can even forgive her for b*ggering off to Australia and Thailand for three months thus leaving me with a barnet by which Ivy Moxam after thirteen years in captivity would be slightly embarrassed (see above...).

But now, the barnet looks like this:

and right pleased am I.

(The face needs work, admittedly.)

And yes, it looks remarkably similar to the bob I've rocked for, like, ever (I really need to get a little more adventurous ...) but it's edgy.

It's an edgy asymmetrical bob.

So, yeah, it's different. #babysteps

Pinterest Pin of the Week

{This made me laugh. Bumble bae pin. Gnarf.}
Weekly Web Finds

Just the one:

  • Wake up and smell the fonts | Sarah Hyndman on TEDx

on the influence of fonts/typography on our consumer choices. Hyndman is the author of this book:

which I'm dipping in and out of, simu-reading with Eat Pray Love.


Well, that's all from me this week, je regrette.

Stay groovesome!

Much love as always to my Lovelies: Jos, Charlie, Fern, Natalie and Georgiekins.

qb xx

1 comment:

  1. Love the hairdo!
    "Eat Pray Love"-could be a matter of a book not read at the right time of your life but anyway it is not gonna make the top 100 0f English Literature anyway so can be neglected.