Quartets and paint balling

I've just been to the cinema with Philippa on my first night out in what seems an eternity. We went to the Barbican, and because Philippa was a little late, I popped into the main complex to wash my hands. What a curious place it is. I'm pretty sure that it would all seem rather familiar if I was living in 1960s Poland, but because I'm not, everything seemed a little brutal! And barn-like. 

We watched the Philip Seymour Hoffman film about a string quartet. It had my old friend Imogen Poots in it. It's lovely to see her doing so well. I guess you could say I gave her her big break, when I was casting films, by bringing her in on the spur of the moment for the film 28 Weeks Later.

The quartet film itself was intriguing. Heaven knows how something so art-house and wishy-washy got funding and ended up with so many big names attached. It was, however, painful to watch actors pretending to play stringed instruments; cringe-worthy, really. There was also a scene where an expensive violin gets dropped in a scuffle and left on the floor. I gasped out loud. The scene was highly unrealistic. No matter what the circumstances, if a violin was dropped in the presence of string players, everything would have gone into slow motion whilst everyone rushed to see if it was okay. 

It's been a very pleasant day which started with a morning stroll into Muswell Hill to pick up a prize for our quiz next Saturday. It's slightly eccentric prize; a paint-balling trip for ten courtesy of the deeply generous folk at Sainsbury's Muswell Hill. I'm not sure it's something my Mum would enjoy, so we'll make sure there are a few other prizes, but I'm equally sure one or two people will get very excited at the prospect... That's if I can find the voucher, which seems to have gone missing! 

We came home from Muswell Hill laden with soup and cheese. Penny came over for a working lunch and we brought each other up to speed on the progress of the White City project. I played her all the songs I've written. It's a horrible thing to have to do, but useful in that you suddenly become aware of all the flaws in your writing. It's funny how a work's first audience can force you to polarise your views on what you've written.

It's very windy tonight. Perhaps we've skipped summer and gone to autumn?