Not a bad subject to try to get my eye in on. Gorgeous George. Well, sort of. I’ve broadened him somewhat and his nose is too bulbous, but I’ll keep on practising. I know I’m very rusty – and it’s something I want to get back into.
The hardest thing to do is to not tear it up along the way – my “internal critic” is a vicious bitch at the best of times. Imma gonna slap her silly for as long as I can.
Last night I got hooked into watching The Queen with Helen Mirren playing Her Majesty. I’ve never watched it before, and missed a bit of the start, but it brought back a lot of memories. The day of the election of 1997 was my first day in England. The 2 May I went to the front of Buck House to see the changing of the guards (as you do) and both John Major and Tony Blair presented themselves to the Queen. One to get his golden handshake and the other to be invited to take on the job.
I was in London when Diana died. I slept on the Mall the night before her funeral. There didn’t seem to be any other place to be, really. I remember talking to so many Welsh people who’d driven down to pay their respects. Lovely people, saddened they’d lost a woman they’d claimed as theirs. It’s the ‘being claimed’ that was their reason for why they mourned so openly in public. The People’s Princess.
I remember debating whether it was appropriate to photograph the funeral procession. I rarely go anywhere without my camera. I’d taken photos of the flowers at Kensington Palace, Buck House, and Westminster Abbey. I wasn’t sure the procession of the casket was something I should be snapping at, more I should stop and bow my head and focus on prayer. I had an interesting discussion with an Irishman about it. He thought I was nuts to be troubled about it – said ‘this is history’. I’m still not sure to this day, but I did take photos. I feel like I invaded the family’s privacy – even though it was there for all to see. Such sadness, such stoic propriety, such an intense atmosphere.
I remember the comments about the family not coming down, the media full of poisonous judgement. But the Princes did come – Andrew and Edward. They walked up to Buck House and were mobbed with people thanking them for being there. Thanking them for being with the British people. Extraordinary times.
Oh I do love a red carpet. It’s where the fabulous meets the notorious with some star power razzle dazzle in the mix. Fashion shows are about the clothes, red carpets are more about the horse wearing them.
This year’s Academy Awards was a little disappointing – with nothing really blowing me away. The ladies definitely brought the colour this year, with no real standout theme. I suppose white was the most popular, but it’s difficult to “pick a winner” when the looks range from girly-flutter through to hard edged couture.
The best dressed women are the ones most comfortable in their skin. Who dress for their shape and know this is them. I find little attractive about the ones trussed up to project something they are truly not. Young things dressing too old (bless them). Old things dressing young (thanks for the laughs!).
This Oscars was the wrong person in the wrong dress. I think they should have a swap meet and ‘do-over”.
I forget how much I love the movies. There always seems so much else to do, to pay for, to run around spending time on than to sit and escape for a couple of hours. Every year I say I’ll go at least once a month, and every year I’ll realise I’ve seen maybe 2 movies, tops. Apparently, 2 hours and $20 is too big a luxury to give myself. Silly girl. For the record, today I went to the movies because I had a few hours to wait for my car to be serviced. I saw The Descendants with Gorgeous George in the lead. Sigh. He does pick a good story to tell. Beautiful. I think the experience was only enhanced by the fact that it’s “tight-arse Tuesday” and my fellow cinefiles were of the aged variety. They noted all the things I would otherwise have missed – “Hawaii’s green, isn’t it?”…”That’s not nice language at all”…”He’s the baddy”….”I like their shirts”.
Oh I do love a red carpet! The “Big 3” began today with the Globes, next is the BAFTAs and then the Academy Awards.
Ladies and Gentlemen, the Golden Globes.
* All photos pinned via news dot com, taken by someone with a bag full of fabulous gear and works the job of my dreams.
Senna was an awesome driver – particularly in wet conditions. Watch the first lap of Donington 1993 and youll see why. His stats are incredible – some still stand. Easily the best of the best. In the interviews I remember seeing while he was alive, he always answered honestly. Although I dont recall seeing so many where he mentioned his faith as was shown in the doco, it was still there in the little I remember from the early 90s.
His arch-rival – and doesnt there always need to be one? – was Alain Prost. Like Jensen Button and Lewis Hamilton, Schumacher and everyone, Ayrton the Upstart pushed the Professors buttons. It was through their competitiveness that I began to see the politics behind the sport. Considering their animosity at times, Alain Prost was a pallbearer at Sennas funeral and is still a trustee of the foundation set up in Sennas name. That fact surprised me. Gentlemen at the end who realized they brought the best, and perhaps the worst, out of each other in the fight to win.
Awesome DVD. I highly recommend it.
The first day back at work – a conscious choice to temper my responses and be as proactively prepared for the crap that will occur. I will hold in mind that these are good people under pressure making quick decisions without the fullest amount of information they need. Instead of thinking them to be a clusterfck of risk-averse, arse-licking morons with no friggin idea what their work is.
My approach will be to hold the line. HOLD THE LINE.