From December 1999, for a year, I wrote a journal. Not on paper, don’t be silly, but not online. I have it on disk somewhere and I haven’t read it since I wrote it. It covers what has been, so far, the most bonkers year of my life for a number of reasons; sadly the margin is too small to contain them.
Writing the journal was hugely cathartic. I sat where I’m sitting now, often into the early hours, unburdening myself, if that’s not too pretentious for you. It is far too, uh, honest to ever be published in full. I probably talk about you, by the way.
It seems such a long time ago now. It seems like yesterday. I’ll read it again one day; but not yet.
So, Notes on a Scandal. Insanely good. Funny, touching, and for me marginally uncomfortable (but I should like to point out that my journal contains no stars of any hue). Screenplay by Patrick Marber, aka Peter O’Hanrahahanrahan from The Day Today, now a proper grown-up writer with awards and stuff.
Judi Dench will be fighting Helen Mirren for the Oscar, I think.
Avaragado’s rating: two new potatoes