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We started watching this ol’ Technicolour/Panavision epic – it’s three hours long! – tonight. We’ll split it over today and tomorrow.

There’s not a chance in Hell of watching it all one sitting these days. For starters Teresa would be asleep way before the creditors rolled. But I’m getting to bed earlier and earlier these day as well.

Trevor Howard is great as the martinet Bligh, whilst Brando is intriguing as Fletcher Christian, played here as a rather dandified fop. I’ll get to historical accuracy later. But in terms of setting up a fun movie dynamic, it bodes fine.

I mention this ‘cause the movie bombed, and was almost universally panned, at the time. It stalled Brando’s career for a decade (until The Godfather)! Watching it now it’s hard to see why.

One of the best things about it so far – and I’m typing this only half an hour into the movie, is the Bounty herself. A full size replica was built, at a cost of $750,000. And she’s a real beauty. No mistake!

There’s an interesting blog article (here) on the model Bounty, as used in the film. The scenes of the stormy failure to pass Cape Horn are superbly done. By now we’re about an hour into the film.

After just half of the movie, we’ve paused for the night. The crew are enjoying Tahiti, whilst Bligh stays on board, fuming. The McGuffin here, and a narrative spine of sorts, concerns a boffin from Kew, seeking to bring breadfruit back from The Tropics, as a new ‘superfood’.

It’s a bit uneven. But I think it is a classic of sorts. Not as an out and our masterpiece, far from it. But it is epic, in style and feel. And the effort that went into the production makes it a spectacle well worth viewing.

Also of interest is the fate of the full sized working replica Bounty (read more about that here, which was ultimately lost at sea, with loss of lives, including the skipper. Who, in an echo of the movie, as Bligh is o j I’m portrayed here, makes a foolish command decision, to sail into foul weather.

It’s the following day, now, Sunday. And we’ve watched the second half of the film. Or rather I have. Teresa fell asleep, as ever. But, returning to the film itself, as a rip-snorting Hollywood epic, I’m actually mightily impressed.

I suspect it’s a long long way from historically accurate. But I don’t care. If I want to know what really happened, I’m sure there are folk who’ve done the work finding out (as best as can be done), and I can explore that at some later point.

What this is, is melodrama, and grand spectacle. Or, in a word, entertainment. And as such, it’s really rather good. Apparently Brando’s posh British accent came in for some flak. So did Keanu’s, in Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula. But both are fine. Indeed, perfectly good.

And not only are their accents no real cause for criticism. Much more importantly, both films are excellent (albeit very different).

Some might disagree with me on this. But I’m just observing that American actors affecting posh British accents would have to do spectacularly appalling jobs to butcher either film – they have so much else going for them – and as it happens, neither of them do anyway.

I did worry for a moment that the post-mutiny part of the film – which it takes so long to build up to – might be a let down. And there is a slight deflation, or loss of dramatic pressure, so to speak, but the dramatic ending more than makes up for this.

All told, I’m rather baffled as to why this bombed at the time of release. It’s not only better than the average Hollywood fare of the era, it’s good enough to have stood the test of time, and remained highly watchable right down to our present times.

Oh, and to finish, another interesting footnote is that Brando and the actress who plays his Tahitian live interest did actually marry in real life, and have a family. And there’s lots more of interest, in that vein, if that intrigues you. Including murder! But I’ll leave it at that for now; bed beckons…

This chandelier had two of it lower chains of ‘cut glass’ (resin or plastic!) broken, ages ago. Since which time it’s looked a bit sad, frankly.

I should’ve taken a before pic’, but as happens so often, I did’nae. So it’s only the post-repair pics on here.

In the end it only took a few minutes. Using quite fine wire, one of the broken chains was put back almost as was. The other one lost four piece of ‘glass’. So that required a different fix.

I’m pretty sure ill have kept the missing links. But exactly where they may be, or if I’ll ever find them again, well… that’s another matter entirely!

So instead I did what you can just make out in the above photograph. It’s a temporary bodge. But it’s doing the job for now. At least the chandelier doesn’t look as tragic as it did with two strands hanging forlornly off it.

Another little home improvement job ticked off. Small but satisfying.

We bought this tree at a great post-Xmas discount, from the Scotsdales on the Trumpington/Shelfords side of Cambridge. I believe it was about £100-120-ish, down from a pre-Xmas price of roughly £400.

We’ve had it about a decade now. So it’s paid for itself, compared to our old practice of having a real tree each year, many times over now.

I’m still a bit icky about having a ‘fake’ tree. But it saves money, is easier to have at home, and looks pretty durn good. So I’ve come to terms with it.

We still have a lot more tidying and decorating to do. But it feels great to have cleared space for the tree, sorted the tarry curtains out, and got the place looking nicer overall.

I’ve recently being having a bout, or rather occasional bouts, of insomnia. Zopiclone is far and away the best pill form remedy. I occasionally use valerian tablets. I have no idea how effective they are, to be honest.

One incidental feature of these recent troubled nights have been occasional periods of incredibly vivid and potent dreams. Sometimes great fun. Sometimes less so.

Last night the dreams were definitely nightmares. And very odd they were too. Like a film, but where one is unable to change channels. I often wish I could remember or record dreams. Not so much in this instance.

Mind, it’d be interesting view them in sober waking consciousness, and see that, if anything, one could make of them. But, truth be told, I don’t believe dreams are at all like that. They’re more a mix of feeling, memories, thoughts, emotions, and in these instances, fears and anxieties.

A lot of the time I prefer being asleep to being awake. But this is decidedly not the case when having such vivid and terrifying nightmares. I left posting about it until later in the day. So it’s nigh on impossible to recall any detail.

It was like a psychedelic maelstrom!

We spent a portion of our afternoon on a shopping trip, taking in West End DIY, March Quality Meats (Yuletide duck, n’ sausages!), Boyes and Sainsburys… phew! During which we got seasonal fare, weekly grub, Xmas gifts and curtain rings.

The curtain rings were quite pricey, and aren’t a perfect match with the ones we started out with. But I don’t care, frankly. The whole shebang looks so much better than heretofore. So I’m mightily chuffed. Thanks Teresa, for your sewing skills (and forbearance!).

I decided I’d imbibe. But under the current new dispensation alkeyhole is out. So I’m enjoying an alkoholfrei Erdinger weissbier. Alcohol free beer is, to my mind, a little like a white shade of black. Nonsensical. Maybe that’s why the bottle says ‘refreshing isotonic drink’?

Still, it tastes ok. And it’s cheaper, albeit not by a big enough margin for my wallet. It’s cold, fizzy, tastes very beer-ish. And I won’t go doolally.

We had to move a butler sink, and tons of sundry crap, from under the stairs, then put a shoe rack in that space, move our second gate-leg table up against the stairs, and put our as yet unused fish tank in one of the sheds in the garden.

Whilst out in the garden I got all Alan Partridge – ‘look at all these leaves; someone should really ought to clear them up!’ – and cleared a load of dead leaves from our ragamuffin lawn, and onto the compost heap.

On having cleared some space, I realised this was the perfect time to sort out the tarty curtains that are both too long – so they funnel any heat from the radiator out of the window! – and are tattered and torn.

Teresa fought me tooth and nail, insisting we do the tree first. But I figure it’d be easier to do the curtains before the tree blocks access to that area. So I just took them down, measured and cut them. Fait accomplis, Teresa fell in, and sewed the hems.

An even smaller job, but one that’s been urging the hell out of me for a while, was sorting out this armchair: removing g all the layers, puffing up and re-positioning sunken cushions, and re-layering the throw. It’s now much more comfortable, and looks a lot better.

All these little jobs add up. Here’s another horrid area or two of clutter, that drive me doolally:

This area, and several others dotted around our home urgently need sorting. Otherwise I greatly fear – and I jesteth not – insanity beckons. The clutter really does stress me out that much.

Teresa re-hemmed the freshly cut curtains in short order. And they’re ready to go back up. At this juncture we realise we need a load more curtain rings. A trip to Boyes, and/or West End DIY is clearly indicated.

The first curtain back up. And drawn. You’ll note there’s clearly no lining. That needs remedying at some point. Although I think Teresa plans that we have entirely new curtains, instead.

Then I decided to clear an area in the corner. All sorts of stuff had accumulated here, inc. auto related stuff, at materials, several lights/torches (inc. some good powerful ones!), and whatnot. I’ve just shifted this junk for now. But the improvement is encouraging.

I need a dedicated space – at present it’s the shelf beneath the cleared area around the ukulele – for car related gubbins. Prob’ ought to be out in one of the sheds?

Teresa begged me to take her to work today (well, the begging was done last night). Today is one of those rare Fridays where she’s actually doing some teaching work. At Ely College, on this occasion.

She needed/wanted to be there for 8.15. We would up getting her there at 7.45! Despite being directed to the wrong place. And even with an additional stop for a Breakfast McMuffin, which we shared.

Shooting the above drew my attention to the wall itself, which looks amazing, with all the ancient frozen growth on it. Chilled to an almost grey-green monotone.

In the two close-ups below, the organic stuff almost looks like those electron-microscope images one sees in science books.

Sadly the church was locked. Another one for the revisiting list. Definitely want to capture the stuff that most interests me on the insides of all these locked up churches.

The view above is fun for falling into that category of architectural jumble, that you often seen in places on old buildings. In this instance there’s a bit of added interest:

The Ely Riots, which occurred in 1816, the year after British and Allied victory over Boney, at Waterloo, are a reminder of the uglier costs of war, even if you’re supposedly on the winning team.

The Wikipedia entry on The The Ely & Littleport Riots sums it up succinctly:

The riots were caused by high unemployment and rising grain costs, similar to the general unrest which spread throughout England following the Napoleonic Wars.

A fascinating little footnote to the above story is that the Chief Justice of the Isle of Ely was one Edward Christian, who was brother of the famous/infamous Fletcher Christian, of ‘Mutiny on the Bounty’ fame!

Fletcher mutinied in 1789, and yet his brother was appointed Chief Justice in 1800, by James Yorke, who was Bishop of Ely from 1781-1808. It appears Fletcher’s mutinous adventures didn’t ruin the prospects of the entire family!

I had a really good day today. My decision to lie in till midday seems to have been a good one. I’ve not been sneezing constantly. And even the concrete nose effect has lessened. That said, I’m still sniffy and a bit bung-dup!

My delivery route took me around the pancake flat Fens today. And it was a cold, crisp, sunny beauty of a day. The autumn colours in the bright ‘Fall’ light… just… wow!

I’ll post on that topic separately. This is about tonight’s dinner. Getting home plenty early enough, and with a lot of the dull quotidian chores that had been piling up done, I resolved to cook us dinner.

I’ve been suffering, mostly mentally, but also physically, quite badly of late. And it’s a bad habit to let that make one turn inwards and neglect life, one’s loved ones, etc. So, to pick up some of the slack that’s been falling Teresa’s way, I’m starting to do more domestically.

Above I’m nearly there already: I browned the onions much more than I usually do, but just as I always mean to. I got the chillies and parsley free at a church, during todays deliveries.

Though I say do myself, this might’ve been one of my better Spag’ Carburettors. Damn tasty!

Teresa was evidently both very hungry; wolfing hers down ‘toot-sweet’. And, the ultimate compliment, immediately going back for more.

And after dinner, sitting in one of our armchairs, who should bless mr with his fabulous furry company, but dear young Chester. Ah, what bliss it was to have him camp out in my chest for 20-30 wonderful minutes. Purring away like a little generator.I’m frequently rather glum of late. And this was some of the best therapy I’ve experienced in ages.

After that, Teresa and I played there hand of rummy, Teresa beating me 2-1, and then we had our baths. And now I’m abed. And it’s only 7:50 pm! But we like our early nights. Especially in the cold dark winter months.

I’m now on page 670 of Shelby Foote’s titanic and magnificent The Civil War, in a chapter called Riot and Resurgence. What a great read it is. A perfect way to wind down for an hour or so before hitting snoozeville.

Yesterday I chose to rise from the warmth of a cosy bed into the freezing cold of our unheated home (we’ve forgotten how to programme the boiler! I must remedy that ASAP, now it’s dipping below 0° outdoors!), and invigorate myself with a 10 minute Joe Wicks work-out.

And that was after a bad night of insomnia.

Last night I took Zopiclone, instead of Valerian. And it worked a treat. I slept solidly through till when Teresa gets up, around 5.30. And I’ve dozed on and off till 8am, since then.

But since eight I’ve been blogging, and sneezing continuously. This latter has been coming and going, along with ‘concrete nose’, since the weekend. I seem to have picked up a nasty head cold.

So I’m going to remain abed this morning, methinks. And try and get more restorative or recuperative sleep/rest. Plus it means I can defer re-learning how our central heating, boiler and thermostat system works.

I wish the latter were simpler; I’ve ‘taught’ myself how to operate it on several occasions. But it would appear it’s just not the kind of info my brain seems capable of retaining.

Regarding the ‘concrete nose’, I may be forced to flush my sinuses with my ‘netti pot’. Actually the thing I have isn’t strictly an Indian style netti pot, which look like mini watering cans, but a western adaptation, more prosaically known as a nasal irrigation tool.

Will it help at all, I wonder?

All my Amazon deliveries today were in a very concentrated spot in Stamford. Which made for a nicer than usual (at least of late; too many deliveries in Peterborough!) delivery route, albeit it was, literally, freezing.

Seeing how the other half live, on occasion, is a mixed bag. It’s nice to enjoy the splendour of these beautiful buildings, even if only very momentarily. But it also rubs one’s schnozzer in the fact that this isn’t where one resides oneself.

This picture, above, is the rear of the palatial gaff pictured above it, mit portico, etc. Shot from down the bottom of the rather sweet little Barn Hill Mews cul-de-sac, where I had a package to drop.

Some prime portals on Barn Hill. Look at these, above and below. Huge doors, massive knockers (snurf!). And check the tiny weird shaped letterbox on the one below. Almost no post will actually be small enough to pass through that little aperture.

I took a few shots in town, as the evening light was lovely. And there’s so much photogenic architecture, all begging to be papp’ed.

Above, All Saints, shot from Red Lion Square. Just one of Stamfords’ several grand churches. Why, pray, so much impressive ecclesiastical architecture? In looking for an answer I found this:

At this time the town was of great importance having been granted a charter by King Henry III in 1256. It then possessed six monasteries and priories, six religious colleges and no fewer than 14 churches. This unusually high density of religious establishments was renowned throughout Europe.

Read more here.

Being in an abstemious phase, I only parked near The George. I dursn’t go inside. As I’m orff the sauce for good. Instead I walked over the bridge – see pics below – to the St Mary’s Bookshop, for to see their Ernst Haeckel Taschen book (a handsome 40th Anniversary edition). Only to decide I could’nae afford it.

The views from the bridge were lovely at this time (I forget exactly when; poss around 5pm?). With the evening light, and a clear (and freezing) sky.