I was up at my caravan last week so by Thursday - it poured with rain, every time I pack the caravan up it rains - so I came home. I didn't realise that it was a bank holiday weekend until it was upon me. This is one of the reasons I so hate this time of year. All those damned bank holidays. Holidays of all kinds, when you live alone, are hell and those long weekends defeat me. As it was the weather was lovely most of the time but I couldn't bring myself to sort things out again and go to Weardale.
I know that for a lot of people bank holidays are wonderful but to me it's just grit my teeth and wait until things get back to normal. Thank God it's Tuesday tomorrow.
The one bright spark was that I went to see Tarzan. Not that I enjoyed it. It was full of those dreadful cliches. Tarzan and big and had a gorgeous body and dark eyes and black hair and Jane was tiny and blonde and he kept having to rescue her. Thank God nobody really expects to be rescued.
Also there was a fat kid who was dumb and a bespectacled man who was pathetic so in this movie you had to be slender and gorgeous to be intelligent. Dear Lord, whatever next. All those ghastly stereotypes. Give me children's movies any day, they are mostly fearless, brave, sending brilliant messages to our children.
Never mind, we did go to Zizzi's afterwards and I had a pizza and lots of red wine and lots of chat with friends and that was lovely.