You owe me your soul…
When you are reading this, we are in the cinema.
And we are watching, are you ready for this: Pirates of the Caribbean – At World’s End
And I can hear you think: What?? No!
No! No! NO! NO!! This can’t be true. Not that film again. You have seen it 15 times in the cinema already. You got the DVD! I thought we were passed this!
Yeah, well I am kind of not.
I attended a Bafta screen writing session yesterday, so this post is about all the above, a lot about screen writing and film making too, and about the homecoming of Davy. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
“So …” Davy begins.
“So” I say, knowing that something is coming.
“How many pages have you written of your 90 page feature film script?”
“Ehrm, well ….”
“Ahrr, I thought so.”
“Yeah, but you know, Dan and June … They hold my head hostage at the moment.”
“You will be in trouble if you don’t start soon. November remember.”
“I … *deep sigh* know”. And I do, I really do. And it worries and stresses me a bit.
“Which is why I made a plan.”
Davy’s, London
“I have been thinking and I know what I want now” he said.
“Excellent” I said “what is it?”
“I want to open my own restaurant”
“What an absolute brilliant idea that is” I said.
“You think so?”
“Yes. You’re not moving out are you?”
“No. So you’re fine with it then?”
“Yes. Absolutely. One thing thing though …”
“Yes?”
“Be sure to put “Chocolate Mousse” on the menu. I love that”.
“Serious?”
“Serious”
Two more things:
I think Bill said no
And this is one of the most beautiful love poems I have seen in a while. Because I say “No” too. All the time.
I saw Attempts on her life in the National Theatre last Thursday. After about 10 seconds in the play I realized I had seen this play before and I didn’t like it that time. I saw it in Aarhus performed by freshly graduated theatre actors. It wasn’t their fault I just have problems with modern theatre, it’s not my cup of Yorkshire tea.
Listen, this trip of yours …
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If jet lag means an attention span of even less than 0.42 seconds, feeling hungry but not being able to eat, and having the feeling that someone put the wrong head on your body, then I am in the middle of one right now.
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“Ingrid …”
“Davy …., wow, how is New York? I look so much forward to see you again.”
“New York is fantastic, you are going to love it, trust me. And I had a great sailing trip, I’ll tell you all about it when you get here.”
“I can’t wait… I …”
“But as your editor …”
“Ehrm yes ?”
“I know you don’t really do Christmas, but for your readers …”
“What?”
“You need to wish them a Merry Christmas.”
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Mr. Blue Eyes
The first time I saw the new Bond was in Oxted cinema. Oxted is far, it’s even beyond the M25, which, for Londoners, nearly categorizes it as being on the country side.
The idea was nice, seeing Bond in a small independent cinema away from the West End, and it was cheap too. And the cinema was cosy, but absolutely not geared to show a film like this. Crappy sound (we had a hard time hearing what they were saying), and chairs making the noise of doors in a haunting house. Very. Annoying.
All that, and the fact that this is one of those films you simply have to see in the Odeon (mega screen and brilliant sound, but so overpriced) on Leicester Square, made me go again. Today.
Daniel’s blue eyes looked even more blue, and his b…
Bzzz. Just a sec, telephone.
A great place to be
We wanted some Rock ‘n Roll, Davy and me, but the man in the TKTS booth said that the places left in the theatre were not particulary good ones. So we decided to drop it, and try to get cheap tickets for it on another day. No rush with this one.
“What shall we do then?” I asked Davy.
“Go home?” he suggested.
“We still don’t have internet at home and half of our tv channels are out of order for the same reason”.
“So?”
“Let’s go to the internet cafe and check if there is a film we would like to see?”
“Mmpf” was all he said.
There wasn’t a film we particularly fancied seeing, so Davy got what he wanted, we shortly visited Waterstones for a book check, and went home.
“Gosh I miss my internet”.
“You sit behind a screen all day at work, don’t be silly. And – you could write.”
“Write. Yes I could, but I can’t write on my laptop when not online.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I want to check my mail, I want to have messenger on, I want to be able to google”
“That’s ridiculous”
“Wha’ – What?”
“All those things, they will distract you from your writing”
“Well …”
“You need to be more disciplined, I heard you say that yourself a few days ago. Well, this might be a good time to start.”
“When did you suddenly become this clever?”
So annoying that he is right all the time.
The proud pirate
“These pictures on your wall, who is he?”
“Oh, him. He is, well he’s someone, I admire. You are related to him did you know? And he has some Scottish blood in him too, half of it to be precise”
“You’ve made a lot of artwork with him on it”
“Yes, it’s just, you know, killing time. And sometimes something nice comes out of it, and then it ends up on the wall. It was so empty when I moved in here.”
“Do you, erhm, do you ever make things like this of other people?”
“Yes I do sometimes. It has to be a person I like though.”
“Ah, I understand”
“And it does require you to sit still for a while you know, think you can do that?”
“Wha, what?”
“Favourite colour?”
“Oh, erhm Blue.”
“Blue, that’s mine too. OK, sit still then, and give me some time”
“I didn’t mean to, I mean I don’t think I will look that good”
“Oh yes, you will, now, let me look at you.”
…
“Here you go, come and have a look. Like it? I think you look great in blue.”
“Oh, it’s, it’s so … The hearts, are they, why, do you really …?”
“like you? I do.”
Oh – we found the nicest flatmate to come and live with us. It’s a girl, Davy picked her. And there are more good things bubbling at the moment.
The cookie, which fitted well in the Love is Actually all around series made the day already brighter, yesterday.
And then I got (t)his mail. Another response to my “who wants to drink a cup of coffee – but no romance” ad. And I don’t drink coffee, I drink tea. But that made the title a bit long, so I left it out. And “no romance” because I am not in the mood to make things complicated. Life is fine as it is right now, more than fine actually, it’s close to perfect, and me and Davy are getting along more than well. So, why bother. But this mail.
I am 42.
Blimey, the magic number.
I am Scottish.
Like David Tennant Scottish? Have you heard him talk? I melt when I hear him talk.
And since I’m coming directly after work, unfortunately, I am wearing a suit.
Unfortunately? A suit? Wait a minute. Who set this up? When I say “no romance” don’t send me a-Scot-in-a-suit!
Davy, a proud Scot himself, has, of course, his doubts about all this.
“I better come with you” he said.
“No, no, no need to” I said “You know, one : “no romance” believe me, and two : you have organ class that evening”.
I think I heard a quiet “Ahrr”.
INT. LIVINGROOM - AFTERNOON
I(NGRID) Hey Davy D(AVY) Ahrr yes? I. You and Slarti have been meeting quite a lot lately haven't you ? D. Ahrr yes. I thought you liked him too? I. I do, I do. You two are not getting me in any trouble now do you?
