Spag bol and cinema

We didn't discuss the big plans much last night. I read a bit of Lonely Planet Tanzania while warming up the spag bol and waiting for G to come home. The more I read the less I want to go, but I suppose these books have a duty to point out the worst about places. If they set your expectations low you are less likely to be duped by a dodgy tour guide and will feel the euphoria of making it to the top of Kilimanjaro all the more.

Went to see Nanny McPhee on a 2-for-1 special courtesy of Orange Wednesdays. Emma Thompson's screenplay was pitch perfect. The pace was just right too. In fact, I couldn't pick holes in the film at all. Even the use of a vile animated baby's mouth could be forgiven for plot purposes. It did feel a bit self-indulgent to be watching it without children - a bit like a child-free Christmas day. But was worth it for being able to appreciate the tightness of the script and the warmth and whimsy of the whole thing. Extra lovin' to G for agreeing to go. He was a bit twitchy at first but was quickly bewitched. Have promised a boys' film next time featuring guns and war at least.

Developed terrible road rage on the way in to work today and it's taking a while to subside. I've got to lead a meeting with an unknown European Director tomorrow. Was feeling fine about it but when quizzed this morning about the agenda, the UK manager in charge of the visit got me riled. He said "you know - he is a director." He's obviously afraid I won't display enough obsequiousness. He might be right. I'd better go and practise.