Stake Land

Stake Land

I watched Stake Land last night. A low-budget, post-vampire-apocalypse blood-gore-and-horror buddy movie. I liked it. It didn't do that thing where the splatterfest only kicks off after half time, and there was a twist with the born-again ultra-religious Brotherhood, fundamentalists (I've just noticed, the word fundamentalists describes perfectly those it's applied to, even without the 'funda' at the beginning) who're convinced the vampire apocalypse is a God-sent thing. Like a latter-day flood, only with extra added splatter and gore, blood-sucking and vampires.

It didn't try to do anything tricksy or beyond the apparently limited budget, and it was a decent enough film.

Lionel Asbo

Amis has had some fun with the names in his latest book. The kids ought to read it. They've grown up in fun 'n' names days. Their ideas have included Asparagus (for a boy, I'm sure it would be shortened to 'Gus, and where would you go with the family theme? Brocolli? Pokchoi? Galangal? Lemongrass? Lemongrass Tikka Smith?), Tupperware, Silverfish, and Corriander.

Fenugreek. Fenu for short. Fenugreek Jalfrezi Jones.

Sadly, there's only a few chapters to go before the book goes back to the library. Fantastic things, libraries.

You know you're getting old...

...when the Screwfix catalogue comes through the letterbox with your name on the cover.

Pizza and risotto

Homemade pizza tonight. Very nice too. Something satisfying about that kneading and expanding and that flour and yeast smell in the background, and eating the quarters with your fingers, battling with that stringy cheese.

Note to the 'politics in everything' advert on Radio Five: actually, pal, I decide how much salt there is in my pizza. Shove off.

I've a craving for risotto. Cellery and mushroom. Strongly seasoned. Thick and comforting, sprinkled with tabasco sauce.

Woodpecker in the garden tonight...

...no-one seemed to share my excitement. Two- or three-tone green, pecking away at the ground. I thought they pecked away at trees. Maybe it was lost. After the ducks, the pheasant and his entourage, and the moorhen sitting in the tree (was that lost, too?), perhaps anything less exotic than a dodo, emu, or pterodactyl does not merit too much jumping up and down.