hathycol | (no subject)

Firstly, an important health hazard notice, aimed at particular to all who know Nick and Ernest;

The poor sods have managed to contract mumps. Nick got it first, and then Ernest was a bit of a prat and decided that sharing a joint with potentially-mumps-ridden-Nick was a super idea. Anyway, if you've been in cobact with them make sure you've been jabbed and pass on the warning. Blah, etc.

Now I have completed that, it is time to talk about Stage Beauty. I rather liked it.

purplerainbow has had a good rant about the theatrical historical inaccuracy, a topic on which I am sadly dim. I will have a good long rant, instead, about certain aspects of it. For example, Nell Gywn. I have no problem with Nell Gwyn being there as part of the king's mistresses, for that she was. Erm, not in that time period though. Oh, and there was this French bint hanging around at the same time, called Lousie de Keroaulle? Nell was not the only mistress. And, y'know, she was only about 12 at the time this was meant to be set. Why on earth was Edward Hyde there? Edward Hyde was sent packing in 1667 after taking the fall for the First Dutch War. I mean, really. Prynne didn't have his tongue chopped off, and he wasn't in the stocks. Charles lived for most of his exile in France and only moved to Holland (hence the Declaration of Breda) when it looked as though he might have a chance and shouldn't look Catholic.

Apart from all of this, however, I rather enjoyed it. Historically inaccurate slash - dude, the wrong Duke of Buckingham, it was the FIRST Duke of Buckingham who swung that way with James I - which was still rather delicious, as well as all the rampant gender confusion. I also adored Rupert Everett's portrayal of Charles II - okay, Charles wasn't quite that daft, but the spaniels, the height and wigs? All lovely, lovely touches. Yay Rupert Everett.

I then proceeded to spend far too many hours sleeping. God, but I needed that lie-in. Next stop of the day was to start cleaning my room, as Clare was coming over later on. My room had reached critical mass state - I couldn't see most of the surfaces and frankly enough I was deflecting cleaning it because it had become such a big job. I'm not, naturally, that slovenly. Messy, yes, downright gross, no. So, I spent hours cleaning my room. Yay me, frankly. It isn't entirely clean - I need to have a sort out and throw out but I may leave that until I go to university as otherwise I'll be doing the same job twice - but it's much better. You can see the floor and stuff!

Stupid thing done on Sunday: whilst eating, I managed to swallow the ball from the top of my tongue piercing. I have no idea how I wangled this one, but duuude. It was there and then suddenly my tongue felt weird and it wasn't. Thank god I have a spare - I need to buy a new spare now. So, somewhere inside me a little chunk of titanium. Lovely.

Clare came around later on, and I made food (cleaning and cooking? Egads) before we wandered off to watch King Arthur. Except it was the Director's Cut and it was much more rambly, long and generically pointless. Blah.

And now it is Monday. Everyone seems to have finished college, unless you go to Winstanley and are made to WORK. Bah, indeed. It was freezing cold this morning - icy blasts from everywhere, the park frozen over and looking like a Winter Wonderland and general shivering. I'm dreading walking home - I'm going to freeze. Gah. I should really just go home at lunchtime but I am on an economy drive and cannot afford to do so. How depressing.

~Hathy_Col~