Don't Know What To Make Of This

So, watched this, nearly turned it off after the first few minutes but kept on and saw the whole movie.

Melancholia.

I have no idea what to say about it.

Truthfully.

For a film I hated turns out I think of it often, certain scenes.  Confused.  I may have to watch it again just to try and unravel it.

We Can Be Heroes

I should really let my once omnipresent optimistic side out more often.  She has been much diluted but is still there so this is what I once would have sounded like.

We have watched as gold medals roll in and confused at the apologies from those for winning mere silver medals (you won a freaking silver, silver in a highly competitive field of finely tuned athletes is nothing to be ashamed of.)  

The only grumble was when the widely excellent BBC coverage cut away from the track athletics where Team GB were winning an embarrassing amount, to show a penalty shoot-out between Team GB and whoever.  Naturally Team GB lost but the change in mindset was interesting.

Perhaps the lack of sporting interest has much to do with the prevalence of football over everything.  Seeing the prima donna footballers, earning stupid amounts for not doing much (considering there are 11 of them, sometimes not even playing during the 90 minute game, and one ball - which is lucky to see the back of the net more than once or twice) their very messy private lives all over the gossip pages. 

Then there are the other group idolised by the general public - the reality shows.  The hard work, perseverance and determined dedication shown by the Olympians makes a refreshing change from the faux tension of someone not singing in tune but their granny just died so that's ok.

Wait, I'm not putting it right...here, let Bradley do it.

There is much talk about how if Yorkshire were competing as a separate country they'd be 8th on the medal table.  No mention of how far up Scotland would be but, as we only have 5 million of a population I think we'd be proud!

(Note:  Scotland will never become independent of Britain.  Britain is the island, no escape from there unless we start digging a jolly big trench, we will (hopefully) become independent of the United Kingdom government.  This is not due to hating England but a wish to see what would happen on our own again.  It was a parcel of rogues who bankrupted Scotland, leading to the need for a union.  Anyway, that's a whole other subject.)

Ok so this is really something wonderful...

I admit, the thought of the London Olympics had me cold - we're 423.8 miles/682 km (yes, I Googled that!) and a whole other country away.  It would have little impact and mean absolutely nothing to anyone north of the M25 let alone we dubious, problematic Scots.  This was costing a fortune, was yet another London-centric thing we'd heard about forever more.


And then the Opening Ceremony happened.  No one had any thoughts other than remembering the utter, toe-curling, bum-clenching awfulness that occurred at the end of the Beijing games, when a big red bus full of UK shame horrified more than this nation.


Whoever it was that decided to give Danny Boyle the reigns must be now sipping champagne on a sun-drenched island of gratitude because they made an entire nation sit up and take note.


Apart from the ending (how to clear a stadium, Macca) it is an event that is hard to describe properly - you had to be there and yes, tv counts.  The hill in a sports stadium; the Industrial age towers; the dancing Isambard Kingdom Brunels; the music (actually ear-pleasing!); the cyclists with wings; Mary Poppins killing Voldemort; the beautifully amazing flower-fire-cauldron with copper petals; the everything!


Written down it sounds like someone was tapping the alcoholic beverages when coming up with ideas, or putting down stuff as a bet (oh they'll never go for this..shall we...oh go on...teehee.)  Boyle managed, in the however many hours it took, to make people who scoffed in horror at the ticketing disasters, the transport disasters, the umpteen other disasters leading up to these games actually change their minds.


The Hobbits fell asleep at 11 pm but up until then had been transfixed, even if a little confused at the slightly eccentric goings on.  We've gone from not wanting to watch a minute to oohing and aahing at the tense archery finals, cheering at the cycling, trying to figure out who is who in the swimming.  And all this from complete apathy.


Amazing what a fantastic event can do to lift the spirits.

I imagine the organisers of the Rio games watched in open-mouthed horror.  "Ah hell, let's just do the carnival again."