We continue to enjoy Family Fun Film Night, obviously without Dig, and now once a fortnight because I can't get my act together any quicker and the thirty-year old TV only graces us with its working state on alternate weeks.
But like a stupid old donkey, I plod on with my resolutions. Even though the event usually ends up like this. Never mind! I'll keep going, until either me or the cathode ray tube expires.
Simply, I am resolved that the little gritlings leave my tender care having been directed to the best of my abilities towards the broader cultures of film, photography, book production, newsprint, and music, from folk to classical, opera to old ballad song sheets. I would be mortified to let Shark, Tiger and Squirrel depart as young women from this house and be ignorant of Alfred Hitchcock, Martin Scorsese, or The Ballad of the Invincible Armada (1588).
On the film front, at least I am organised, thanks to LoveFilm, who have sorted me out something glorious. I am working my way through 100 best films a treat, and Laurence Olivier has never enjoyed such an airing since Wuthering Heights.
However, tonight is one of those nights where I tell the children to shove off and find something else to do. Big Brother Ghoul is here, and he does not want to watch a re-run of Henry V. Fortunately, he is also an ex-television engineer, so he mends the television so I can put on the age inappropriate No Country For Old Men.
What a brilliant film. The Coen Bros are just about my favourite, what with their dark observations, twisted worlds, fantastic visuals, and heartless psychopathic killers. Now I can look forward to watching it all over again when the little grits hit age 15.