Archives: Film

Up far too early this morning to get off to Harefield for my first trip there in a month. Slipped into clinic still dripping from the torrent of water being unleashed from the heavens in the short walk between the car park and the main building, to be greeted by a very quiet scene after an apparently large number of cancellations. All the better for me, though, because the fewer people in clinic the earlier I get away.

Went through all the usual rigmarole and emerged the other side pretty much unscathed – weight’s up a kilo, SATs looking pretty stable, temperature good, lung function moving up smoothly.

K had the day off work, so took it upon herself to take us both shopping in Watford thanks to our 3-hour hiatus afford by the usual clinic practices of waiting for results before seeing the docs. Somehow, we managed to walk the entire length and breadth of the Harlequin Centre in the middle of Watford (albeit mostly looking for food) and come away without spending any money whatsoever and a brand new Blackberry Curve for me. I was impressed.

Proceeded to return to H-base and got into see the great MC pretty snappily. He was perfectly happy with my progress, which was something of a relief as last time I’d seen him he was mildly concerned about my slight plateau in lung-function and indicated that if it didn’t improve I’d have to go back in for another Bronch et al. My issue was I didn’t know how much he wanted it to have improved by in order to skip that part of the plan. Turns out, it just needed to be going steadily the right way, which indeed it was. More than that, some of the more obscure numbers (rather than the simple FEV1/FVC numbers we are given) had apprently jumped further than he’d have looked for. So win-win really.

Also managed to catch up with Emily briefly after we missed each other in the morning thanks to her having a bit of an “off” moment. Really weirdly, having not seen each other for months and months and months (since I was in hospital after my initial op), we’re now down to see each other twice in a week as we have a Trustees meeting for Live Life Then Give Life on Friday. Funny how the world works.

Managed to escape Harefield by just after 3, which had us home and dry by 5 after a brief Tesco-and-petrol detour on the way back. After half-an-hour or so of sitting doing nothing, itchy feet took over and we settled on a night out at the flicks to catch The Other Boleyn Girl.

Although on the surface – and in large parts – it’s a very ordinary (if star-studded) costume-drama/book adaptation covering the lives and loves (well, love – Henry VIII) of both Anne and the lesser-known Mary Boleyn, there are moments of brilliance smattered throughout.

It’s testament to the two leading ladies, Natalie Portman as the Queen-to-be-beheaded and Scarlett Johansson as her younger, less fortunate(!) sister, that one still feels fairly hefty pangs of emotion at the denoument that you’re well aware of before the film even starts.

In the hands of a lesser pairing, Anne’s betrayal of her sister and her semi-sadistic schemeing to win the heart of the King and the throne she believes to be her right would be too much for an audience to forgive. And while I can’t say I went the whole hog to total forgiveness, to imbue such an innately unsympathetic character with enough humanity to carry such weight on her death is remarkable. But it’s not solely down to Portman’s work – without Johansson’s pain, anguish and subsequent forgiveness and the enormous risks taken at the end being wrote so large and ingrained so deeply within her performance, the audience wouldn’t be allowed the access to the emotions we’re lead to feel.

It’s not a flawless film, by any means – there’s a few stilted performances and even some of the big guns involved take a while to hit their stride, but it deals deftly with the passage of time and there are some emotional beats within the story that the film nails as perfectly as any movie I’ve seen this year. Worth a look if historical and/or costume dramas are your kind of thing – not one to be immediately dismissed if they’re not.

Monday’s been a pretty nothing-y kind of day – hossie appointment early this morning for K, after which I dropped her at work and came home.

I sat and watched most of Last King of Scotland, Kevin Macdonald’s flick about the regime of Idi Amin in Uganda and his Scottish doctor who fails to realise what’s going on under the rule of the infamous dictator. It’s a fantastic film, Macdonald’s first fiction turn after the incredible BAFTA-winning documentary Touching the Void. If you’ve not seen either of them, I can’t urge you enough to see them.

Touching the Void is not your usual dry documentary, but even if it were the story alone is compelling enough to keep you clinging to the edge of your seat. Before I saw it I didn’t have much love for documentary feature-making, but Macdonald shows that docs can be just as exciting – if not more so in a lot of cases – as any Hollywood bang-for-your-buck blockbuster.

Last King of Scotland is mostly remarkable for it’s two central performances – Forrest Whittaker as Amin (for which he won the Best Actor Oscar last year) and James McAvoy, the then-up-and-coming, now bona-fide star, who plays his personal physician. It’s brutal and gruesome in parts, but please don’t let that put you off (there’s enough warning to let you look away), with the two leads performing an almost perpetual dance around each other which draws you in. It is by no means a demolition job on Amin, but rather a carefully drawn portrait which shows you not only how terrible he was, but also how charismatic, how inspiring and how self-confident he was. When you see this film it helps you to understand how leaders and dictators like Amin, like Hitler, can rise to power when they seem so extreme. It’s all about the cult of personality.

I didn’t get through the entire flick before heading to fetch K from work, from where we headed straight to the gym and then on to the cinema to catch Wong Kar Wai’s My Blueberry Nights.

Wong is known for his art-house foreign language movies, many of which have been considerably successful over here in their given scene, although you may not have heard of them. This is his first English-language film, for which he recruits a cast which combines Marquee names like Jude Law and Natalie Portman with solid British thesps like Rachel Weisz, top character actors like David Strathairn and is lead in an outstanding debut performance by better-known-as-singer/songerwriter Norah Jones.

Strathairn is worth the price of admission alone, as one of the greatest portrayals of alcoholism as I’ve seen on screen. It’s not just the perfect notes he hits in his various levels of stupor, but the contrast he creates with his daily working persona, the classic working-man’s drunk.

Jones is very good too, carrying the film on her shoulders with no noticeable nerves or lack of conviction. But one of the key things in turning in any good performance is the people you have to work with and when you play one-on-one scenes throughout a picture with the likes of Law, Weisz and Portman, you know they’re going to help you raise your game.

It’s not a flawless movie and it feels a lot longer than it’s 90-0dd minute running time, but it’s definitely worth a watch if you’re into tails of life and love and everything in between. It’s a little heavy on the food-fetish for my tastes, but each to their own.

First time in over a week I’ve been to the cinema (withdrawal symptoms kicking in big-time), I shot across town to catch Rambo this afternoon with Dazz.

It’s really a surprisingly good film. It’s more than just what it says on the tin, although you can’t go far wrong expecting what you would expect from a Rambo film. For the pacifists and haters of action-movies and film-violence, this puppy was never going to be for you, but for those looking for a bit of a no-brainer it’s not quite that either.

All the elements one would expect of a Rambo movie are there – huge death-toll, cheesy-but-great one-liners, Sly in a headband – but there’s more to it than that, not least the realisation from the scribes that people like Rambo just don’t do a lot of talking. The hero’s lack of dialogue is deftly handled, adding weight to the utterances he does come out with and handing a somewhat over-the-top scenario a level of realism you just don’t expect from this sort of film.

Add to that the sheer brutality of the violence and you realise this isn’t just another churned out Hollywood sequel, but something that’s actually had a lot of thought put into it by everyone involved, not least co-writer/director/star Stallone. He’s made the gunshots visceral and painful, the explosions truly horrific and the violence throughout turned up to a level so extreme it’s almost comical, until you stop to think that it’s more true to life than most Hollywood movies’ portrayals of death-by-gunshot or landmine.

It’s not the world’s greatest picture, it’s never going to contest any awards and it’s not the perfectly-weighted book-end to a saga that last year’s Rocky Balboa was, but it’s an extremely well-made, well-shot and well-put together little flick that entertains in all the ways it’s supposed to and offers up that little bit extra. An in it’s eschewing of the typical, OTT, CGI-heavy action of the more recent crop of action movies from the States, it may well serve as something of a reinvention of the action genre. We can only hope.

I say family, because to me my Godson is my family, although technically the bloodline isn’t there. But today I got to spend a few hours round at his place playing, chatting, introducing K to him and his wonderful parents and it was so lovely as to be almost indescribable. But you know me, I’m going to try…

K had to work all morning, which left me at home to my own devices, something which is never the greatest of ideas when I’ve got something to look forward to in the afternoon, because I tend to not be able to think of much else and so meaningful work is always a little hit-and-miss.

As it happens, I managed to use the time to surf the internet for filmmaking websites and news and such, which has helped inspire and drive me forward with a few of the projects I’ve got rolling along in the background at the moment. My docs at Harefield are keen for me not to start doing any “real” work for a while (6-12 months post-op), which is both freeing and frustrating. There are many things I want to do with myself right now and a few projects I REALLY want to get going on, but at the same time I’m sure in the long run the enforced slow-down will only benefit them all by making me take stock of them properly and devote enough time to thinking them through and planning them properly.

I picked K up from work at half two and we shot straight over to Little R’s house to catch up with them for the first time in…well…. blinkin’ ages. I thought his Mum wasn’t ever going to let me go from the massive bear-hug I was enveloped in no sooner had I stepped over the threshold. Not that I’m moaning, you understand, since I felt pretty much the same way seeing all them again.

I feel like I’ve been so much out of R’s life for so long now, since he lives so close, but it’s been such a struggle for me to get to see him. Now I’m starting out again, I’m hoping we can rebuild our relationship back to how it was early on before I got too ill to do anything with him. We’re already planning an ice-skating trip for the Easter holidays!

Plus, I got to be made hugely jealous at the family’s beautiful home cinema set-up. Not only have they got a PS3 (with Blu-ray, which just won the HD DVD format war for those of you who missed that piece of news) but also a gorgous 40″ HDTV and surround sound system to play it through. I’m not the most materialistic man on the planet, but I have to confes to a slight weakening of the knees when it comes to film-watching in the home (and filmmaking outside of the home…). Anything else I can take or leave – if it’s film-related I think I’d rather take it. Terrible of me, I know.

K and I then came back and veg’d good and proper for the night – some lovely sausage-and-chips comfort food and a night in front of the telly.

We caught the new series on BBC3 Being Human, which I have to say massively impressed me. The idea of a flat-share between a Vampire, a Werewolf and a Ghost didn’t do a whole lot for me on reading the listings, but the result was much more heartfelt, funny, dramatic and touching than I ever expected. It’s well worth checking out, if you can cope with the scary subject matter. It’s not really gory, but they have invested a good chunk of cash in a couple of big transformation scenes for the wolfman. What really impressed me, though, was the way it was shot and cut together. For the first time in ages watching a new British drama (particularly BBC), they have finally steered away from the ridiculous music-video manic-camera movements which blight so much UK output. Instead they trusted the really very strong performances of their lead cast and let the camera linger on them without wobble, shake or zoom. Well done that team.

Another really, really busy day today, which has been lovely – again.

Started out with a quick hossie appointment for K, which all went smoothly and hitchless, followed by long discussions over what to do next, what needed doing and what we just felt like doing.

So first stop was Sweatshop in the Xscape building in CMK (and the inclusion of an unashamed plug, since they were so utterly awesome) to buy my very first pair of real real trainers. I’ve had trainers before, obviously, but never with the express intention of doing anything vaguely physical in them. But, since we’re about to bite the considerable bullet that is gym-joining, I figured I needed something proper.

The Sweatshop (yes, Dad, it is still there) is not just any shoe shop though. These guys know their stuff. It may make you feel a bit of a ninny walking and running (well, jogging) around a shop in your socks with your trousers rolled up, but when they select a few different types for you to try on, you realise as soon as you slide your foot into the first shoe that they’re as on the ball as a clown at a circus, but with less scary make-up.

The idea is that they study the way you walk and run and select a design of shoe that best compensates for any irregularities (or lack of) in your gait. I’ve never had a pair of shoes fit so snugly and perfectly. Sure, they’re expensive (even in the sale) but I can say with almost complete certainty that they will help my fitness and prevent injury, all because the dude told me so and I have total implicit trust in him.

Oh, and K got some too. (I think she was suckered in by his terrible good-looks, but somehow I tried to over-compensate by paying for both pairs, so who’s the loser in this story really…).

After lunch, we took a trip to Borders for some birthday cards for half of my family who have the rudeness to all be born within two days of each other, then on to another sports shop to make sure I’ve got some training gear to wear with my trainers. I’ve been advised that jeans aren’t necessarily the best things for gym-work. Seem fine to me.

Also invest in a cap to keep my flowing locks from my face whilst I stumble along on the treadmill. I’ve just realised that if I can justifiably use the phrase “flowing locks” about my hair then it’s time to call a non-Sweeney barber.

Then we snuck ourselves off to catch Juno at the flicks. It’s a wonderfully funny, sweet little film which really surprises when it takes it’s turns at the dramatic. It’s not just a little comic masterpiece, but is genuinely touching at the same time. It’s got some impeccable and immensely subtle performances from the entire cast, but most notably from Ellen Paige as the titular knocked-up character and Jennifer Garner as the prospective adopter. And I could watch Allison Janney (of West Wing fame) and JK Simmons in just about anything and be enthralled.

Couldn’t have been more different to Cloverfield last week, and I can’t recommend this one highly enough. If you only see one film in the next couple of weeks, make it this one – it’s wonderful and you’ll love it. And if you don’t it’s not my fault. (I’m not sure I’ve quite got enough conviction to be a real film critic yet, do you?)

To top off what was a cracking day, I managed to come home and knock off the first 12 pages of my new script, which will hopefully now progress at my regular 6 pages per day, provided K keeps the big stick wielded and I don’t have a hissy fit and throw it out the window.

I should have known before I went. When I watched The Bourne Ultimatum a couple of years ago, the shakey-shakey camera in the car-chase scene made me feel distinctly fuzzy-headed. In the morning, I took my AA tabs, which have a habit of making me feel slightly woozy.

So it’s hardly surprising that an entire film of running, screaming and a LOT of shakey-shakey camera – about which people are all given advanced warning – would not particularly agree with me today.

But ignore the signals I did and – in the hope of taking advantage of K having a day with her sister-in-law and the littl’uns – I set off to catch my second post-Tx double-bill of Cloverfield and Things We Lost In The Fire.

Since my comments section seems to have picked up on my movie opinions of late, I would love to be able to give you solid guidance as to the brilliance or otherwise of either of these films. Sadly, I only made it 3/4 of the way through Cloverfield before giving up completely and leaving, upon which I had just about enough level-headedness in my inner ear to get me home and into bed without throwing up, so I didn’t even get in to see Things We Lost…

From what I saw of Cloverfield, I have to say I wasn’t as impressed as I expected to be. I’ve heard such rave reviews about it from critics and friends alike, but I have to say I thought it was pretty ordinary. It was just a big monster movie, but shot in a very different style to the classic Godzilla-like epics we’re used to. It was hugely innovative, I’ll give it that, but the relationships and plot devices felt just as phoney and forced as anything you’d see in a regularly-shot Hollywood diaster movie. And I’m not one to be convinced my technical trickery that anything below-par is up to to a higher standard – a cliché’s a cliché however you choose to shoot it.

That said, I was hardly in the frame of mind to judge a the flick properly, focusing as I was on not throwing up from about 15 minutes in.

So today’s been a bit of a washout really.  Disappointing, but I’m sure I’ll get to the flicks next week to catch up on the good stuff and let you all know what’s what.

Hooray for pancake day!  I’m not actually massively addicted to pancakes myself, but K is a bit of a pancake demon and loves to cook them, too (which she happens to be great at).  Not only that, but it’s become a kind of tradition to cook pancakes for her bro’s family (including the little niece and nephew, plus big sis).

All of which means we got to have a grand old time playing, cooking and eating with the littl’uns and ever-so-helpful big sis (who actually took over a little of the cooking).  It also marks the first time since my op – in fact, the first time ever, we think – that I lifted the little ones up for hugs and cuddles.  Both of them were so happy and excited to see us and it was indescribable to finally be able to scoop them up and give them a proper cuddle, rather than having to find a way to crouch down amid oxygen tubing and other gubbins.

Earlier in the day, after a relaxing morning, K and I went out on what must amount to our first proper “date”, to catch a re-screening of The Golden Compass, which has hit cinemas again on limited showings because of it’s nominations for the BAFTAs and Oscars.  Sad to say, though, I loathed it with a passion.  Although I can see how the story is interesting, or at least could well be if told properly in the novels, as I’m reliably informed it is, the film falls way short of an acceptable adaptation.  Apart from anything else, it features some of the worst performances from child “actors” I’ve seen in a very long time – it’s like watching a very poor stage school performance which has paid too much attention to the glitz and glamour without taking the time to drag even vaguely realistic performances from the actors.

The adults do well with what they’ve got but the whole thing left me feeling slightly bored and uninterested, with no real sense of peril or suspense.  K’s told me she’s not sure, having read the books, she’ll be comfortable watching the next two movies, but having seen what I’ve seen today I’m not sure I’d be willing to give up my time to them anyway.

On a brighter note, the massive Xscape building which houses the cinema is also home to a number of out-doorsy-type shops, where we managed to hit the sales and walk away with a bargain pair of water/wind/weather-proof jackets to take away on the various travels we’re starting to plan up, the first of which being a week up in the Lake District for my birthday week in May.  I daresay they may also come in handy if and when we head to Durham at the start of March and Tresco in April.  Like the scouts, we are prepared.

The babies have definitely tired me out today and I’m ready to tuck myself up, but it’s amazing again to be able to reflect on the things I can do with myself now that wouldn’t even have registered on my radar six months ago.

Thanks for all your messages, it’s nice to know that’s it’s not just the two of us who are getting such a pick-me-up from my new start in life.

More and more firsts keep piling up this week.  It’s been a bit exhausting, but for the first time in a long time I feel exhausted and I can actually identify the myriad different things I’ve been doing over the last few days to induce the tiredness rather than sit here recalling the fact that I made an ill-advised trip to Tesco which has wiped out my week.

Last night, having got home from work – well, picking K up from work – we were exchanging texts with a friend of ours who lives in Luton who was feeling a little down in the dumps, largely due to being left in charge of the dog and having far too much time to himself to think, something which always bodes badly for those of us with slightly brooding dispositions (see previous entries in this blog for my own personal examples).

Naturally, we invited him up for a Friday night of fun and frolics in Bletchley, but since he had the dog to look after and work to be at in the morning, he couldn’t make it.  Without having to think about it twice, I immediately offered to drive us down there to take the party to him.  No sooner were we off the phone to him than we were in the car and heading South, an option which wouldn’t even have crossed our minds just a few short months ago.

We had a great night, picking up party food on the way, sitting chilling, chatting and catching up, setting the world to rights and coming up with the ultimate in Bat-plans for the coolest of dudes and then kicking back and taking in a flick to top the night off (the improbably brilliant and clever Fracture, which I’d highly recommend).

We didn’t leave Luton till after 11 and didn’t make it home till shortly before 12 – a late night even by current energy standards – but it felt fantastic to have been able to just up and go, to shoot off to be there for a friend in a way I haven’t been able to do for a number of years.

Back in the olden days, five or six years ago at the height of my time front of house at the Theatre, I used to do this kind of thing all the time.  Friends would call late at night (usually after a show had finished) and I’d whisk myself round to drink tea and talk things through till all hours of the night.  I’ve missed being able to do that for my friends, to be able to be there, wherever, whenever they needed me.  I feel like I’ve found another missing part of me and I’m welcoming it back into the whole with open arms and a wonderful excitement.

Just to add to the excitement and general, all-round super-happiness of the week and month and year so far, K got a letter this morning offering her an interview at City University in April, two days after the Tresco marathon.  It must be said that after her UCL experience and the rather blunt non-communication from Edinburgh (they informed her of her lack of success through UCAS, without evening deigning to write a letter themselves), K had pretty much given up on City.  To be offered an interview had us both grinning from ear to ear this morning and really topped off the week beautifully.

Of course we’re not counting our chickens or other similar jumping-our-guns-type metaphors, but there’s every chance we could be settling in London come September – me to a new start in my long-stalled career and K finally starting down the road she’s been aching to take since her teens.

Life has dealt us both some pretty raw cards over the last few years, but if ever there’s evidence of a deck-stacking Karma at work, 2008 so far has to be it. 

…is the way you accelerate away from them afterwards.

And that’s exactly what I’ve done today. Yesterday was rubbish, no doubt about it – I still can’t find anything worse in the whole recovery process than feeling sick. Tired I can deal with, pain I can put up with, but nausea is something I just can’t cope with – it totally bums me out and ruins any day it pokes its rubbish little head into.

Yesterday, however, was yesterday and today is very much today – a vast improvement and significant acceleration from my little speed bump.

Today I did two things I’ve not done for ages, never mind since my op. First of all, just after 12, the legendary (and I use that word with the most careful consideration) Dazz came over and collected K and I to take us out to the cinema. For those of you who don’t know, this is the most momentous of momentous occasions for me.

Before I was ill, I would go to the cinema maybe 4-5 times a week, frequently taking in up to 8 films in any given 7 day period, some weeks watching films multiple times, other weeks just ploughing through everything that was showing in the building. As I got worse, my trips became less and less frequent and once I moved on to oxygen, I was hardly going at all and certainly would never have dared going alone without backup. My last visit to the cinema was back in the summer to see The Simpsons Movie, along with K and my brother pushing me in a wheelchair. The humiliation I felt being somewhere so familiar in such a vulnerable position all but ruined the experience for me and until my op I never set foot nor wheel inside the building again.

So today I felt a wave of the most amazing relief wash over me as I strode up to the counter to purchase my ticket for I Am Legend (which is very good, by the way, although a little scary, so if that’s not your thing then steer clear). It felt a little like returning home after a long absence – everything familiar, if the tiniest bit different in the details.

I lapped it up – the adverts, the over-priced food which I’d normally never touch, the grand, sweeping trailers on the big screen, the sheer size of the wide-screen viewing space as the feature began to roll – the sense of excitement and anticipation that I feel sitting in front of the silver screen hasn’t gone away and my passion for movies in their natural environment was instantly rekindled.

After a mesmerizing 2 hours (come to think of it, maybe the film wasn’t as good as I thought it was, maybe it’s the experience I’m savouring…) we departed the flicks for the second first of the day: Borders.

Anyone who was with me way back in the early days of 2006 will remember this entry, so knowing that one of my first “independent” trips out would be to Borders. That and the fact that I had a goodly amount of dough to spend from Christmas on books and DVDs.

As is my usual policy with vouchers I get given, I always spend them on things that I would love to have but usually wouldn’t buy for myself because they’re a little pricey. So I came away with a Making of Sin City book which I’ve been lusting after for over 2 years now and a filmmaking book I should really have on my shelves. Added to which, rather dangerously, there was a DVD sale on, so I picked up Rocky Balboa, Y Tu Mama Tambien, Sunshine, The Good German, The Science of Sleep and War of the Worlds (mostly for the extras). Perfect.

On top of all this brilliant greatness of the day, I’ve also finally started putting into place the plans for the Tresco marathon mile I’ll be running with my bro and his section of marines in April, the first step of which is my Justgiving page, which can be found at www.justgiving.com/trescomile. I’m not looking for heaps of sponsorship (just 10p a yard, in fact), but I figured that if I put myself out there raising money for charity then it wouuld keep me honest and make sure I don’t duck out at the last minute. Not that I would anyway, but, you know…

If you’d feel like passing the address on to anyone, obviously feel free. Otherwise, keep an eye here for my progress towards my biggest post-op goal so far. I’m sure they’re going to get bigger with time, but a mile seems a really long way right now. Fingers crossed.

So I’ve managed, it appears, to spend a couple of days without sending my Tac levels sky-high and spending all dy hurling, which is nice.  I have, however, managed to do something to my left-hand side, which is causing me a great deal of pain right now.

We think – in our infinite wisdom (read: mildly-educated guesswork between one trained nurse and one former-CF patient, newly transplanted) – that I may have strained the stitches on my internal wound.  Back visiting the flat on Christmas Eve, our little nephew came running into the study to see what we were all gauping at on the computer and without thinking I automatically hoisted him up on to my lap.  We reckon the effort of lifting him may have pulled on the stiches (which won’t have fully healed and dissolved for another few weeks yet) and that’s what’s causing the pain.

The biggest problem is that it’s right on my Lat muscle (the sort of angular one that comes down under your armpit), which means just about any body movement twinges the stiches and gives me a nice, healthy, bracing shot of pain.  I’m dosing myself up with Paracetamol and Tramadol at regular intervals, but it doesn’t seem to be doing a whole lot.

Still, the plus side of all of this is that the pain in my side is literally the only thing I’ve got to moan about.  Everything else is absolutely brilliant – I’m walking around freely, my appetite is fantastic, I’m enjoying my days and sleeping pretty well through the nights.  I’m full of hope and excitement for the New Year and just wondering which of my many possible projects I want to tackle first once I’m up and running.

Today I’ve had a day off from going to Harefield, which was nice as it meant I got a bit of a lie in.  I had a wonderfully lazy Saturday morning lying in bed with K reading the paper and chilling out before I got up and had a nice soak in the bath (which did wonders for the pain in my side). 

The rest of the day has been spent in similarly chilled fashion, watching TV, sleeping a little and doing the mini-exercise regieme that the Harefield physios set me before I left.

Tomorrow, K and I hope to get back to the flat to try spending a few nights there over New Year to see how we get on.  At the moment I’m lucky in that I’m here being pampered by Mum and Dad but I really need to get back on my own two feet.  While I know that K’s going to be there to do things for me if I need them doing (which, doubtless, I will to start with), it still feels like a pretty major and slightly scary step.  But at the same time, it’s wonderfully exciting and I can’t wait – it’s one more step on the road back to “normality”.

We’re just a couple of days away now from the end of the most amazing year of my life – one that’s seen more ups and downs than  an entire day riding Nemesis at Alton Towers, but one which will no doubt stick in my mind forever, for all the right reasons.

Despite everything that’s gone on in the last six weeks and despite all the hardships of the year before that, I’ve done some things this year that I’ve always dreamed of doing and can’t wait to have the opportunity to do again. 

K and I sat watching a film last night which summed up my attitude to life perfectly.  Funnily enough, I don’t normally credit Adam Sandler movies with being all that profound, but watching Click reminded me that life is about every experience you go through, good or bad, and that every single thing you go through helps to shape you as a person.  I would not swap a single day of the last 12 months because the great ones were the greatest because of how hard I had to fight to get through them and the bad ones were the worst but taught be more about myself, my strength and my resolve than a million sessions with a phsycologist or life coach ever could.

Here’s to meeting with triumph and disaster and treating those imposters just the same.  And here’s to 2007: year of wonders yet to cease.