And so it went. On Friday, too pooped to cook and the Boy went out in the rain and trawled for sustenance, coming back home with fish and chips of epic proportions. It makes a BIG change for us to eat takeaway of any sort, so it was a real treat. There's something quite decadent for us in sitting down to eat food that I haven't made, but we do have a spectacularly good Chippery in the village, and it doesn't hurt now and again to spend a few quid on something good. I still haven't found a good local place to actually go OUT to to dine and spend my money in, but the hunt goes on. As eating out is a very rare occurrence, I need to know that our hard-earned cash isn't going to be wasted on gunge masquerading as fayne dayning. I'm often disappointed and not a little cross at what passes for acceptable fodder in restaurants these days. I'm saddened that other people either don't notice how badly food is prepared and served, or that they just don't have any expectation that it could be better. It's really NOT that difficult. We usually save our dining out experiences for Belgium where, it has to be said, the food (even in tiny out-of-the-way establishments) is always excellent in both quality and price.
In between showers we dropped down into Bugville to shop. It didn't take long, mercifully. The quicker we can get in and out the better, quite frankly, especially on a Saturday afternoon when there seem to be more mutants per square inch than at any other time. It had to be done, though - there was a Sunday curry to be prepared and no coconut milk in the house. I had a Beef Rendang on my mind...
And also π... (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9Hjrs6WQ8M)
Now, call me a Philistine if you will, but I couldn't get on with the book. I don't know what it is about books written with a sub-continent subject matter, but me and they, they just don't mix. This is the person who will read cereal boxes in desperate moments but apart from one notable exception ('A Fine Balance' by Rohinton Mistry), lent to me by N when I lived in Bruges, the 'Indian sub-Continent novel' has completely passed me by. Hand on heart, I tried at least 10 times to get into Vikram Seth's 'A Suitable Boy' to no avail. Other people rave about it, so either they're a) cleverer than me or b) lying. I suggest the latter. Emperor's New Clothes, anyone? So, anyway, I read the overwhelmingly glowing reviews for π, I listened to the radio interviews about π, I purchased π (both in hard copy AND Kindle version) and STILL couldn't get into it. Indian sub-Continent, see? And then, I saw that a film was in production. And, in due course, that film was released to great acclaim, and lo, it was to be shown at the Picturedrome cinema (http://www.picturedromebognor.com/) for a mere £3.00 on Sunday. Bearing in mind that I've recently watched the Emperor stroll past unclad to the soundtrack of The Glums, I was in two minds about going. An Indian boy, adrift in a lifeboat in the Pacific, accompanied merely by his wits, a gaff-hook, a broken-legged (then dead) zebra and a Bengal tiger called Richard Parker? I was thinking π x arse-squared. And actually, it was, but only because a female Hagrid and her equally gigantic offspring were sat directly in front of us and me and the Boy spent the entire time leaning heavily one one buttock in order to see round them. The fillum itself was delightful. It took all the useful bits, packaged them up into a beautiful whole and sent out the essence of the novel into the popcorn-scented room that is Screen 2. We loved it. On the way home, I tried to explain to the Boy just why I couldn't get on with the book. It might have had something to do with all the extraneous stuff: 25% or so Kindle reading and I was still in Pondicherry Zoo having animals described to me in minute detail. A mere 10 minutes of the film and Ang Lee had condensed the necessary stuff (why Pi was called Pi, the lessons of 'not feeding the tiger', the weaving in of all the 'Gods' and the religious stuff ) into a few lines of dialogue. Perfection. Go see it. It's a beautiful film and the CGI is extraordinary. If you didn't know it wasn't possible, that tiger in the prow is REAL. Truly.
And the Beef Rendang supper wasn't too shabby, either. A big plateful of mixed bhajis, yoghurt, mint and cucumber dip, mango chutney and a carrot and toasted cumin salad with spiced poppadoms, followed by beef rendang, buttered Basmati and Peshwari naan. A little 'mixed up', curry-wise (the Rendang's Malaysian, not Indian), but who cares? I made it, we ate it, it was good. And then, when we thought the weekend goodies were all done and dusted, my very clever Boy managed, by virtue of his lightning-fast reflexes, to score us two tickets to see Counting Crows http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bSTWIlQ-MA&list=ALBTKoXRg38BD7Q7Jvb077w22BBNBr4Qu8 at the Apollo in London in April - HOW GREAT IS THAT????
We are lucky, lucky monkeys...
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