French Film Night

Last night saw the largest gathering of our unofficial film club for a screening of La Tourneuse de Pages (The Page Turner), a cracker of a film in the mould of The Hand That Rocks The Cradle but infinitely more subtle. A slow starter, this film; it builds to a tense denouement without over-dramatising or going for any obvious goriness. It's a quite chilling tale of damaged people and revenge. Most certainly well worth a look.

Needless to say the evening degenerated into lots of wine quaffing; Dong brought along a particularly nice Muriel (and that's not a new name for Auntie Sharon, although perhaps it should be). It was good to play host to Keith and his friend Yvonne for the first time at a film night, I think they enjoyed themselves. Yvonne is visiting from her adopted country of Milton Keynes (or its surrounds) and is thinking of moving to our old stamping ground of Frome. We tried to persuade her that Millbrook could be a better bet, after all everyone washes up here eventually, so why delay the inevitable?

No evening is really complete without pictorial evidence of the culpable throng, so here from L to R we have Dozybean (on a flying visit to clear up her clutter), Yvonne and Keith who bravely protected Yvonne from a small black cat for a good deal of the evening:

And, naturally, here we have Dong (before giving us a lusty rendition of something about larks being malodorous) and Shazzer carefully chewing her finger:

According to Oliver Stirling on the Archers this morning the best cure for a hangover is a fifteen mile run with full military kit followed by a fried breakfast and a prairie oyster. I'm going to try this formula immediately after finishing this posting, but I might miss out the first bit.