Brides, Lovers and Raisins

This particular rendition of Madame Bovary turned out to be not so memorable after all, even if the story is as disturbing as ever. Marc fell asleep twice already, so we're on our third day of watching a two-hour film. I have to agree with him though, the whole production is lacking something. Volume. It's flat as a pancake.

Besides, I believe we have both been saturated by De Poolse Bruid. We saw it three days ago, and were completely bowled over. Highly recommended!

In addition to the acting/atmosphere/setting, etc., the most amazing thing about the movie is a song about half-way through, sung in Groningen dialect by Ede Staal, but beautiful even if you don't understand a word. It's called 't Hoogeland and can be found here.

I love it despite (or perhaps because of) its suspicious resemblance to Le Plat Pays.

Marc had a 'release' at work today (a most mysterious name, incidentally) which involves work on a Sunday from 5 am to 1 pm, followed by many phonecalls intended to solve problems resulting from the release. Makes you wonder what (or who) they release. And where it/she/he goes after it's been released.

This meant Isabelle and I had a quiet morning sorting the wash and playing in the park. I was hoping to take her to the beach (the weather has been loverly springish these last two days) on our brand-new bike (wish I'd made a picture) (later, later) but she explained to me with much expressive body-language that she was going to freeze, her toes and her nose were going to fall off, and many other horrors of which she wished to spare me the details. In fact, the only way to go outside, IF I REALLY insisted, was to have her tucked up into her flannel sleeping bag in the buggy, together with a tupperware full of raisins and her cup of warm milk. Like so:


Then push on Mama-horse!

Marc says she gets it from me. What is 'it' I wonder? Her love of raisins?