Part one: Saturday
We watched a movie. Like we always do. It is a given task to be achieved on a Saturday evening, given that we are generally bored of watching each others faces by Saturday evening, and we’d rather watch the screen. There we were watching The Dark Knight. Now I am a total slobbering, unabashed, teenage level devotee type fan of superhero movies, and some more than others, but while I have never really loved the Batman series, preferring other variants to this one, Spidey and friends, Hulk, etc, this one, I am pleased to say, blew me away. Yes, yes, yes, in my heart I am an idealist, and believe in the powers of people to fly with batwings slapped onto their backs and speak in deep gravelly voices thanks to tight throat constriction of said hood and mask.
A fine ensemble of characters, with faultless actors. Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman and Aaron Eckhardt are so smooth you have to hand it to these men for having finetuned their craft to a skill. And Heath Ledger blew me off my seat. No, not the good guy, the bad guy. The Joker. Guess I have a thing for Bad boys. Married one and now he’s a bad boy, in a good boy costume, itching to rip the cover off and go trawling in the dark.
Anyway, throughout the movie I could only feel an aching sense of loss. I havent seen Brokeback Mountain or any other Heath Ledger movie, and I kicked myself on the shins metaphorically for my idiocity. To think that this brilliant actor would never act again. Had died. Of a drug overdose. Was reportedly disturbed after his portrayal of the Joker in The Dark Knight, that this was his last role. If yes, this was a fitting finale to a brilliant actor who didnt deserve to die so young. He was fabulous. If you do one thing this week go watch him as the Joker.
Go see it. It deserves every damn star it got.
Part two: Sunday
Back again at Inorbit. What to do? Close friends had brought their five year old kiddo and close friend of brat over, and brat squealed and squealed to be taken to meet up, and the husband wanted to meet up his old college friend (kiddo’s father) and kiddo’s mom being a close pal of mine, it was a meeting in heaven. The kids were fobbed off on their respective fathers and we ran into the shops, all of which bore the magic word in their show windows. SALE SALE SALE. An alcoholic to a wine shop? Am proud to say I am on the road to sobriety.
Strange things happened in Marks and Spencers. Some tops in size 10 fitted me. Others in size 12. And One fabulous one I would have sold my soul for in Size 14. Didnt buy. Size 14 was heartbreaking to admit to. Would rather stick to maternity wear. Did my body expand and contract magically in the changing room?
The dear friend fought off rabid shoppers and we cornered trial rooms for her to try out tops from AND, and the most beautiful thing happened as we staggered towards payment counter with more tops than she needed in hand. The credit card swipe machine lines went down from network congestion. Think, the entire mall on sale, one gadzillion manic shoppers swiping in overbuy heaven. Something had to give. Rationality prevailed as did cold cash. So only one was bought and paid for.
But, AND, Benetton, Remanika, Catwalk, all the kiddy wear shops, Provogue, Levis, SS (with brands like CK, FCUK, Tommy Hilfiger, etc) are all on sale. Inorbit is worth a trip right now. Some shops are even opening at 7.30 am to cope with the hordes rushing in. Makes me wonder. What person would get up, get dressed and come shopping at the crack of dawn. Definitely not me. That makes me so not a shopaholic, I guess.
I am being good though. I am not buying. I am only visually feasting my eyes on the goodies on display. Like the bhog before the poor gods who can only inhale the aromas and be content.
But really, I dont need anything. Come to think of it. Do we ever? But then need and want are two different things completely. And I want want want those leopard print stilletoes from Catwalk. So much for good intentions.
We then meandered to a Chinese restaurant nearby for dinner, where the food was good, the ambience was good, and the fishtanks were great to keep the kids occupied. And they ruined it all by bringing in a live band singing onto prerecorded tracks with fake accents and drowning out all pretence at conversation. In our defence we didnt know they had introduced this special feature for Sunday night dinner, and had eaten there once before when there was calm and quiet and just pleasant piped music in the background to animated dinner conversation.
The kids boxed themselves silly and scared the worms out of the fish by tapping the glass, and found more recruits in the restaurant for mischief making until they’d rounded up a respectable gang and could actually play some games in groups on the small platform area next to where the very bad singer continued gamely to absolute lack of interest. My friend and I took turns to station ourselves and ensure no damage was done either to the venue or the other kids. And that the game stayed restricted there. Needless to say we werent relieved from our posts as sentries by any of the other mothers eating peacefully while we watched their kids.
Suffice to say I have a very hoarse throat today. But a good weekend. After a very very long time. Am not complaining.