It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring

Such a rainy Saturday it has been*, but strangely satisfying.  The panda and I watched Mr Smith Goes to Washington and it was amazing.  I love James Stewart: his voice, his face and his damn good acting.   He was so young in this film, it’s probably the earliest one I’ve seen. Funnily enough we were going to watch Rear Window, which is right at the other end of the spectrum, but the tech was against us.  I need to watch more of his long list of films, maybe The Man from Laramie, just because I fancy a western and I’ve always loved the song:

the west will never see;
a  man with so many notches on his gun,
everyone admires the fearless stranger,
danger was this man’s special-tee!
So they never bossed, or double crossed, the man from Laramie…

Doo-de-do-de-do-do. the man from Laramie.

Where was I?  Ah yes.  Then I hoovered the whole flat and reorganised my bedroom, which was strangely satisfying.  I often find that when my head isn’t on quite straight a burst of housework cleans out my mind as well as my house.  Two results for the price of one.  My room looks, as Panda put it, more like a room now, and I’ve got a little deskesque space set up to use the computer without mucking my neck and back up any more.  My wonderful birthday speakers are repositioned, my books are tidied up and my chair is just begging to be curled up in with a book and a cup of tea.  So long folks….

* editor’s note.  I’m writing this on Saturday, true enough, but I probably won’t publish it until later.  I’m so rubbish at writing at certain times that it seems wasteful to release a passel of posts into the wild at once, so I’ll save up my loquacious moments and dole them out in measured doses.  It’s my blog and the timeline doesn’t have to make sense …so there.

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