Hardening My Heart

 OK. Deep breath. I am not a son dealing with his mother. I am a parent dealing with a sulky kid who doesn't want to get out of bed in the morning . 

A week ago I thought my mother was dying- and while that was the case I was happy for her to stay in bed all day but it seems she just had a cold and was no more dying than any of us are and since she's planning to go on being alive she needs to do it to the best of her ability and get dressed and come downstairs and eat breakfast at the table like a reasonable human being. 

I faltered briefly in the Captain Bligh act. The ear was pressed into the pillow and I didn't see any way of inserting a hearing aid short of using physical force. Fortunately I had a couple of heavies at my elbow- or carers as I prefer to call them...

Apropos The Oscars

Ailz tells me that when we first got together I insisted on sitting up to watch the Oscars. She has a much better memory for this sort of thing than I do so I don't dispute it, but I'm surprised to learn I ever cared that much.

The year will have been 1992- which was when Silence of the Lambs won most of the big prizes. Maybe I stayed up to root for Anthony Hopkins- who was at the point of transitioning from star of small worthy British movies to Hollywood headliner. I believe I persuaded myself I liked the movie more than I actually did. And now I like it even less because I've grown to hate the obsession with serial killers it more or less kicked off.

I haven't seen any of the films that are in the running this year. I fancy the new del Toro but I've missed everything he's done since Pan's Labyrinth and it's unlikely I'll stir myself to the extent of making an exception for this. I'd also like to see the Phantom Thread. I have a goodish record with Paul Thomas Anderson. In fact I've seen all his features apart from the first and the one with Adam Sandler. He makes good wholemeal movies with chewy inclusions.