The BFG

Yesterday we took the girls to see the BFG. The Cutester was desperate to see it, and I was keen too because I loved Mark Rylance’s performance in the BBC’s Wolf Hall. I was also curious to know what a great actor can do with just his eyes and his mouth, which are seemingly the only bits of him left in the film (everything else is CGI’d, or something).

BFG poster

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Goodwill to all neighbours…

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Tarmac nativity

Last Sunday we had what has become an annual event on our street – a spot of carol singing followed by more than a spot of mulled wine. (Okay, I made 12 litres. Oops.)

A neighbour suggested it three years ago. I was enchanted by the idea of what she called ‘bellowing in the street’, and realised that I have only once seen a group of carol singers out on the streets in the local suburbia (and that was up in the next postcode where they are all quite posh white and English). Three years later, I can’t seem to stop organising it.

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We are all Nazarenes

Red Arrows at the Newcastle Festival of FlightI’d started to write a post about going to the beach on our holiday here in intermittently sunny Northern Ireland, but my heart wasn’t in it. I could have written about the fantastic aviation display that happened here on our doorstep on Saturday, but it was hard not to see military aircraft without thinking of what’s happening in Gaza, Syria and Iraq. Then one article after another on Facebook – on Iraq especially – has taken residence under my skin.

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