I have no pictures because I spent all my time relaxing instead of worrying about how I'd share my half day and evening off. And it was so worth it!
I started off by dropping by Greedy for Colour's house to pick up a couple of relaxation aids (crochet book and DVD) then off to the hairdressers. Alas, she was busy for a couple of hours so I headed to the boat, but not before a quick act of altruism. Having paid for my parking already I noticed a woman pulling into my discarded parking space as I was leaving. I parked up, raced over and handed her two hours worth of parking. It just feels so good to surprise a complete stranger with a random act of kindness; in fact it felt so good I had to question my motives briefly. Did I do it for her or for myself? Does it even matter why?
So, having rested for a bit with a book and a sandwich, it was back to the hairdressers for two and a half hours. Great conversation, got to read my book for a bit and left a new blond (which my mother tells me is really grey. We just love mothers).
And then on to Harry Potter. Oh I do love Harry Potter and all things Hogwarts. This film, like the books, was so different from anything before. There was less fanciful magic and cool spells. There was much more emotion, more depth, more story. It moved slower but time went quicker (much like Slughorn's hour glass). The only downside to the film was the man who went to sleep a few rows behind me and overshadowed the delight with some very loud snoring. Thankfully I think someone woke him and we all got on with the film. And the best part? Talking to a couple as we all left the theatre and husband remarked how there was no way that film could have possibly been two and a half hours long. My response . . . you must have thoroughly enjoyed it.
A quick stop at Little India to pick up some dinner, back to the boat for a meal and a DVD. Unfortunately I didn't watch the one on loan from Greedy as I knew I'd love it way too much and that I'd never get to bed. I watched The Illusionist instead. What a brilliant film. There's something so compelling and believable about Edward Norton. Every film he makes is better than the last.
Now I'm home again and smile to remember the excitement, followed quickly by tantrums that I was greeted with. It's okay . . . a night on the tiles makes all that seem insignificant.
PS Remind me to tell you about the very intriguing, very sad dream I had last night. An idea for a novel? Mmmmm maybe.