Yesterday marked the first day that British women put on their black tights.
It is officially the end of Summer. (I have absolutely no time for people who use calendars, or ‘official days’ to decide when the seasons start and finish. I cannot live my life by these wildly speculative and changeable measures. I am a very consistent and practical person.)*
At a dinner last night with various other, black-tighted ladies, I overheard several people complaining about Winter’s arrival. I was able to listen closely to their conversation, whilst maintaining my own, because I have recently realised that ‘being a good listener’ just involves not speaking when someone else is talking, and leaves one completely free to otherwise engage with the rest of the room/ your internal monologue.
Frowning vaguely in the direction of the person I was ‘listening’ to, I eavesdopped intently on their grumbling. ‘I can’t believe Summer’s over,’ One of them said angrily. ‘And now what will we do?’ Leaving aside my friend’s inability to perform even basic forecasting, I never quite understand people’s fury that Summer ends.
Summer is not like Ryan Gosling, where every moment is a magical, wonderous joy-ride.
Summer is the first man you ever dumped- unpredictable, unreliable and, despite all its good points, not ‘the one’.
Summer is the first man you ever dumped- unpredictable, unreliable and, despite all its good points, not ‘the one’.
Which is why, when Summer finally stops taunting us, stringing us along with its feckless promises of sunshine and happiness, we should welcome Winter with open arms. Winter is the best boyfriend you ever had. It is comforting and reliable and stays with you for ages. It lets you wear huge jumpers and get fat and never makes you go out. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, because it’s early days, but Winter may just be ‘the one’.
Which is precisely what I would have said last night, if I hadn’t been distracted by the growing ladder in my black tights. ‘Ah well,’ I remarked loudly to my dinner companion. ‘There are always some snags in the beginning.’ Which he was somewhat suprised by, because apparently he had been talking about Putin.
*In entirely unrelated news, I have a set of kettlebells that need to go to a good home*
The opening credits roll and the same florid pink letters that Tom Cruise’s ‘Cocktail’ sported so proudly announce that Ryan Gosling will be accompanied by various other actors. One of whom is Carey Mulligan. Carey Mulligan is a tremendously talented actor, but will forever be for me the girl in ‘An Education’ who refuses to lose her virginity to a banana.
(We watched this movie during a skiing holiday, and spent the rest of our time on the slopes shouting ‘David, I don’t want to lose my virginity to a piece of fruit’ at one another. I really like to think we did our bit to improve the reputation of the British abroad). There are a couple of things I like instantly about ‘Drive’. 
It is extremely shiny. You might not think that is a good thing, but when compared to the picture quality of films genuinely made in the 80s, ‘Drive’ is a clear winner. I spend much of the first scene congratulating myself on living long enough to see such advances in digital media. (One’s sense of personal accomplishment increases exponentially when you take credit for things other people have achieved). I then spend some time wondering why Ryan Gosling’s voiceover is so somber. ‘Ryan!’ I want to tell him. ‘You’re absolutely beautiful. Any girl would be lucky to have you. And it seems that for this part you got to drive around really fast and dangerously in cars. Your life is a dream! Stop sulking and enjoy it.’ 
It seems Ryan is playing a stunt car driver who does overtime as a getaway driver. He takes everything very seriously. I wonder if we would be as well matched as I thought previously. Carey Mulligan has been cast as the vulnerable next-door-neighbour. She has an impossibly cute son who she is far too young to have given birth to. She has a haircut she is far too poor to afford. So far, I really like everything about this film. I’m pretty certain I will enjoy it. I don’t want to ruin the movie for those of you who haven’t seen it, so I won’t say if I did, but just a quick heads up- it is NOT a rom-com. And there is a reason why Ryan Gosling is so serious. And in hindsight, the cheery pink of the opening credits is DECEPTIVE. But you know, by all means, go see it.
unfashionablylost 