The bloody Piano Teacher

That's two hours of my life I'll never get back.

The sweetest thing connected with that film is when I borrowed it from Blockbuster in Wembley, and the pimply young guy at the counter looked at it strangely, looked at me and said "This is one with subtitles...is that okay?" I could have kissed him.

But the film itself- I dunno, am I becoming a prude, or boring or lacking critical thought (the latter quite possibly)...but it felt gratuitous...not to the extent of Hole in My heart, but gratuitous all the same. I failed to feel a smidge of sympathy for the woman at all and the final scene? Give me a break...The music was perhaps the only redeeming feature and the earnestness of the young seducer. Isabelle Huppert played unbelievably well, I just thought the story was unbearable (and not in a challenging 'good' way).

It did however, feel remarkably good to make my own bad movie choices, without explaining myself to anyone. Maybe I should try and avoid French films for a while, and get back into the Spanish ones. Gratuitous sex in those too, but with vastly better looking people. Oh Gael Garcia Bernal...hmmm...

While we're on the subject of name-dropping, I bought tickets to see Waiting for Godot at His Maj starring Sir Ian McKellen. Score! See, Perth is practically London in terms of culture.

New man at body pump this morning. With an unathletic name like Bill I thought he'd be a walk in the park. How wrong I was...

My breakfast tomato had the explosions of the sun inside its skin...