Slumdog-Tired (And Not A Millionaire)

Today I shall mostly be knackered. Because I stayed up for most of the night watching the Oscars. I wanted Slumdog Millionaire to triumph spectacularily for no other reason than the British connection. Although I can hear Sanjeev Bhaskar's Goodness Gracious Me character insisting: Of course Slumdog Millionaire is a brilliant film! It's Indian!

This sadly is the first year I can remember since I was a twenty-something where I have not managed to see a single film of the six that were nominated. Another indicator that I ought to get out more, but I find it hard to come to terms with the 'sad b@st@rd' association of going to the cinema alone, plus the omnipresent nature of mobiles (and the selfish nature of some people who own them and think they cannot get through a ninety-minute film without someone in their lives having to contact them really, really urgently) and the loss of respect towards others (I am one of those people who gets really, really wound up if people talk during films. Not wound up enough to actually do something about it, but wound up enough to sit there seething throughout the remainder of the film. It has come to the stage now where I just don't like going to the cinema, which is a real showstopper for someone who considers himself quite the movie buff. I tend to operate on a short delay, waiting the few weeks (as it seems now) between cinema release and DVD release. Thank God I no longer have to rely on terrestial TV - "Happy New Year and welcome to 2009. And now on BBC1 - the television premiere of Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring".

Experienced a slight revenge on two of my boys for their unsympathetic response to my thumping skull experienced of Sunday morning, as half term is spend and education has returned, beckoning its skeletal fingers. This only really disheartens two of my brood, as Andrew was awake, washed, breakfasted and conservatively but not unfashionably attired by a bizarrely uncalled-for hour. Lukas and Gabriel had to be dragged like cowards to the gallows from their lovely snuggly beds, both of them shocked that for what would have be the first time ever Sunday had not been followed by another Sunday, but instead by Monday. For Lukas, it was a frenetic search for abandoned elements of P.E. kit as he has not done P.E. for almost three months, and indeed cannot do much until his arm rebuilds a bit of muscle.

A very pale Gabriel came down half-scrubbed and shabbily dressed and sat at the kitchen table staring at blank piece of lined A4 within a folder with a biro held poised - a position he didn't shift from for three whole minutes although he became increasingly fidgety. I asked him what was up and said he was supposed to do a report on the novel he had read over half term for English and he didn't know where to start. I suggested opening with a synopsis of the plot, but when Gabriel asked what a synopsis was I knew a different tactic may be in order. So I explained I thought he ought to condense the plot of the novel into about half a page. Then Gabriel said I wasn't understanding him - he hadn't even read a novel over half term. I told him he was in his own boat and I was jumping ship. I went upstairs to shave and when I came back down Gabe was on the PC hurriedly scribbling down the IMDB plot summary for Stormbreaker. I quite admired his resourcefulness.

I took the warming relations between myself and Andrew as a chance to mention the idea of a week or so's holiday in Germany around Easter for all of us. Andrew said Where's this idea come from? So I explained it was at the suggestion of Colin, which of course instantly initiated Andrew's negativity towards such a notion. He said he'd prefer a holiday where Colin failed to number amongst the participants, so would be keener on staying home. So I said this may be the last chance for all four of us to spend some quality time together, and that I expected Colin to be busy sorting out the detritous of his marriage and spending time with his girls. When this seemed to be doing nothing to sway him, I added that I'd like this to happen, so I was asking him to put himself out for a week or so for me. Andrew said Ah, the old emotional blackmail, which I thought a trifle unfair, but I think he was jesting by fifty percent. I added that perhaps he might find Cologne has a fantastic gay scene, but I think by Andrew's expression I'd just blundered away whatever scant ground I'd just gained. He concluded the discussion by declaring that he'd give it due consideration.

I packed all my boys off, said my goodbyes to Colin (who had slumbered through the morning on the sofa) and ventured to work for another morning of hearing the rumours of redundancies gathering credibilty. We have been promised an official communication on Thursday.

Ah yes, Colin. The happy wanderer returned yesterday in the middle of the afternoon. He was wearing the same jacket, jumper and jeans combination I'd last seen him in, although the mischievous and slightly triumphant smile was a new addition. After half an hour of him strutting around the house like Danny Boyle with an Oscar I told him if he didn't stop waggling his eyebrows they might drop off. This gave him an unfortunate opportunity for a response as he told me if one part of his anatomy was likely to drop off it wasn't going to be his eyebrows. He then asked where I disappeared to and I explained that I was getting nothing out of the evening so I went home. He said then you've got your little brother to thank as he pulled a scrap of paper out of his jeans and passed it to me. On it was written a telephone number. I looked at him for an explanation and he said I think you made an impression on someone.

Hmm.