sloshtice

There's always a mass migration of snails from one side of the path to the other when it rains. It seems to be just snails here but on Conging Street in Horncastle the similar phenomenon was always just slugs. This one changed direction shortly before reaching the north-east side of the path and headed back but would probably be OK as the only cyclist I saw on the path had already passed. It might be a little bit damp and cool and soggy when it rains but it certainly makes the hill a much more peaceful place to splodge over. There were a few cars going along Old Church Lane but only two joggers round the hill road itself, one looking knackered but determined twenty metres from the start of the downslope and one looking a bit fresher but puffing much more loudly and occasionally grunting who still had most of the way to go. He'd probably find the going easier if he didn't deliberately scuff his feet with every step too. There was one nice shot of two people in anoraks with hoods up staring damply out over St. Margaret's Loch at the splishes of the rain on the water and the subdued swans but they looked like the sort of people who might have suddenly turned round and caught me taking their picture, plus the camera had had enough rain on it for one day and there was no sachet of silica gel in my bag today.

Off to see a nice film-festival film shortly (for which Nicky will hopefully stay awake (though she's currently asleep on the sofa)). A review will be added later or tomorrow.

Hmmm. Mum and Dad was somewhat disappointing though additional entertainment was supplied by the swathes of dingbats standing up and looking around in the auditorium checking to see who was looking at them or who else was present, stage-whispering "Oh, look, Siân and Tobias are here" to each other, name-checking various filmy people and generally flaunting the IDs hanging round their necks on light-blue UK FILM COUNCIL-emblazoned lanyards. Some of them even left their film-making headwear in place for the performance. The bunch of people standing around looking to see who was looking at them at the front turned out to be the director, producer, artistic director of the festival and a random sour-faced woman who stayed at the side of the stage. Most of the small cast were there too as this was apparently the world prémière. The film itself... mneeeh (2/5). It's pretty much Hostel without a slightly different preamble and relocated to a small house in the Heathrow flight path populated by people with the accent equivalent of a very noticeable toupée. There are a couple of mildly amusing and original gorno moments, some of the sound was quite good and there were a few instances of thoughtful cinématography but it's probably not really worth going to see. It was eclipsed on all counts by Careful with that axe!,the two-minute short which preceded it which is definitely worth a poke if it can be found.