Bedknobs and Broomsticks

It’s been a slow kind of day; rather typical for this time of year. We had a bit of a lie-in, and then got up, rather languidly, to do some work. Nathan sat in front of the television watching what seemed like an endless episode of Only Fools and Horses. I shivered at my keyboard in the loft, trying to come up with some melodies for the Hattersley project, constantly aware that the tunes I write need to be catchy enough for non-singers to remember, but dark and melancholy enough to fit the mood of the films I want to make. For my own sake, I need these films to be a real departure; very different to the celebratory pieces I've made in the past.
 

I worked sporadically, looking for any opportunity to down tools for an hour or so. I went for a run; up over the heath. It was like pushing a broken shopping trolley around a supermarket; heavy, listless and a bit comical. Still, I feel a great deal better for the exercise. After my run, I treated myself to a massage, which has left me very relaxed. I returned to find Nathan watching Bedknobs and Broomsticks and felt obliged to join him for old times’ sake. I must have watched that film at last once a year throughout my childhood. It goes on forever, however, and always leaves me with one question: Was Angela Lansbury ever actually young? Whilst we're on that subject, I think this little ode to the final “wacky” freeze-frames of Murder She Wrote is worth a gander. This is a comprehensive guide to fabulous ham acting.

The following picture was taken on Christmas Day at Nathan's house. When my Mum and Dad left the party, everyone gathered at the window to wave.

And here's the light that my father described as "Oswestry light"

Saturday 28^th December, 1661 found Pepys in his office, summonsed there by the Duke of York, who wanted a speedy estimate of all of the outstanding debts of the Navy. He went home in the evening with Sir William Penn and his children – and they played cards until late.