Tag: <span>Indiana Jones</span>

Ahhhh what a nice Bank Holiday weekend that was.

Visited my Mum for lunch, then popped into to see my Gran for a while before heading home before the rush started (catching the end of the Scottish Cup Final). Saturday evening and we were out with friends for dinner and a screening of the latest Indiana Jones movie. I don’t want to spoil it for anyone, but suffice to say that having read several reviews I should’ve expected what I saw.

Yes, Harrison Ford is older but I thought he carried it well and the first 40 minutes or so skipped along just fine, with the usual romping, fighting, nonsense all in place. But after that it started going downhill. Fight scenes were obviously CGI’d, the plot got more and more ridiculous and next time I hear that George Lucas is writing a film script I’m going to track him down and shoot him (in his writing hand).

I was quite willing to suspend disbelief for this movie, give it the benefit of the doubt, and the first part of the movie helped me do that but it just got so bad towards the middle that I had no choice but to get dumped back to reality. THAT is the sign of a bad movie, one where I’m made painfully aware that I’m sitting in a cinema and my left buttock has gone numb. I’m quite glad I already own the first 3 Indiana Jones movies on DVD, I certainly won’t be adding this one to my collection!

Sunday found us in the garden, weeding and tidying up (mainly weeding), and yesterday we had my sister-in-law, a niece and a nephew over for a BBQ. It was a good day to do not much, a little prep, a little cooking and LOTS of food!

And best of all, the weather is back to grey nothingness today. Just in time for everyone going back to work.


Frustration is a terrible thing, particularly if coupled with self-importance. Take, for example, the stroppy business-suited blonde I encountered this morning.

Let me set the scene: Monday morning trains are usually late/delayed/packed and arrive out of schedule, so it’s quite normal to arrive at the station and find a train has just rumbled underneath the bridge and is sitting there whilst passengers creep onto it (into it?). This usually prompts an athletic display of stair-stumbling, down the 20 or so steps to the platform, that ends with an Indiana Jones style last-minute dive between the rapidly closing doors. This morning was no different, and so I sat on the train ticketless. We arrive at Glasgow Central and spew forth, all eager little puppies, bounding happily towards the grindstone, or rather jaded thirty-somethings who are considering any last ditch excuses to save them from yet another working week (“Sorry, my right arm was amputated at the weekend… whaddya mean ‘well you can type with your left’!!!”)

As one we surge… ok plod.. to the top of the stairs and let out a small moan. Yes, the ticket collectors await, the queue is formed and we all start silently cursing the people who don’t have cash and want to add 10 seconds to the transaction by paying with plastic. Of course we don’t grumble too much as it all helps to delay that cheery hello from the security guard as we spin through the revolving doors into the office lobby. Then, snapping us out of our mumblings, strides stroppy business-suit woman. Heels clicking furiously as she marches past the queue to one of the awaiting ticket collectors.

“I’m sorry, I’m terribly busy and I must get to work” she says. Or something like that, I did catch the words “very busy” for certain.

The ticket collector points to the queue but no, she’s shaking her head, that won’t do at all. He is insistent, as is she, and this little tête-à-tête goes on long enough to allow the rest of my queue-buddies to turn and nod knowingly at each other: “Some people eh.. ” “there’s always one” “we are ALL busy!”. How expressive we can be without saying a word.

As one we will the ticket collector, psychically passing the collective message: “Do not let her pass!”

He doesn’t. Unfortunately she doesn’t throw her briefcase down and start stamping her feet, which would’ve been much more satisfying, instead she gives the modern equivalent by turning on her heel and marching to the end of the queue, whilst digging out her mobile phone as if nothing has happened.

The satisfaction of knowing that we are still below street level and her phone won’t work gives my morning enough of a lift to make the day passable.

Of course I should be discussing the vagaries of the British Queue, but they’ve been well documented before and we’ve all stood in them so really.. what’s the point?

Although I will say this: a queue is wonderful at providing a sense of shared purpose. A “we’re all in this together” team spirit that many a manager or coach would love to find. Maybe that’s why football players queue to get on the pitch?

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I’m a big fan of trilogies – The Godfather, Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Back to the Future, The Matrix… emm.. and all the others (yeah Alien but I’ve only seen the first one) – so I’m looking forward to the Return of the King, the final instalment in the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve not read the books, and managed to watch the first two films unadultered by reviews, comments, or any spoilers. Unfortunately this morning I lapsed, but it wasn’t really my fault… honest.

The Metro were doing a “Special Edition” with a centre page thing full of snippets from cast and crew. I glanced over it briefly, with one eye shut and the other barely open (drawing a few quizzical looks from fellow train passengers, yeah I spotted you staring at me little miss ‘can’t be bothered to brush my hair this morning’), to check for any spoilers. I didn’t really spot any so I resumed my normal reading posture and facial expression – hunched over, elbows out, with my tongue trapped on my bottom lip.

And the reason I didn’t spot any? Because they had been cleverly worked into the snippets! Argh!

I won’t say anything here though. Well…. no, no, I won’t. Promise.

And as ever when something like this happens, I’m reminded of the time, the year after Formula One coverage switched to ITV, (stop me if I’ve told you this one before… ohhh you can’t.. ha ha the joys of self-censorship!) when, after having managed to stay away from the results of the a Grand Prix so I could watch the entire re-run and not know if Mr.Schumacher had won his umpteenth world title, those lovely people announced the result. The fact that this happened minutes before the ITV re-run was about to start was, of course, coincidence. Of course.

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Wooossshhhhh. So that was the weekend. Saturday, in-laws, haircut, curry at friends. Sunday, my parents, shopping and two Indiana Jones movies (they just don’t make them like that anymore…). Back to Monday already…

Funny atmosphere of people getting on with their day-to-day work without really being too sure of where it will lead. Maybe it’s just me…

Personally still knackered, sleeping way too much, but helping someone smile on Friday helped lift me, and I’m not being too pessimistic about any warning signs. One advantage I have now, is that I can recognise those signs easily, and deal with them much earlier on.

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Tidy, neat and organised. Took some time away from this wretched machine to do a bit of tidying up. You know the type of thing, the stuff you keep saying you’ll do but never actually get around to, well we’ve done it. Mind you my desk could do with a clear out, I currently have an ambulance on standby in case the paper tower sitting next to me should topple.

Think we are going to watch a video tonight (no DVD in this house..yet). What to watch? Fight Club? Mary Poppins? Indiana Jones trilogy? Hmmmm what else did we get for Xmas?

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