The weather's changed the last week or so. V and I were wishing Ally-the-car had reached already*, because the nights are lovely for drives. For those who don't know what I'm talking about, the kalboishakhi season has finally reached us, and the heat has given way temporarily to awesome thunderstorms, strong winds, black clouds and what the Met office never fails to call "evening showers". (And that's a gross understatement. Showers indeed. When these babies get going nothing in the way of raingear is any protection.) The ants are scurrying about, the trees are looking partly washed (it'll take much more washing than a few thunderstorms to get all that pollution off) and everybody is feeling slightly unsettled.
I'm informed those with a romantic bent to their mind are feeling moody. Good for them.
Me, I just want to sleep. It's lovely weather to do almost anything in, and sleeping is one of them. Right now, I would love to be tucked up tight in bed, snacks by my side, a movie loaded on the Mac and the remote nearby. Say a hot drink handy too, while I'm dreaming. Oh, and I almost forgot to put the husband in place. Yes, well, I think we'll leave him out of the covers just yet in case somebody has to run down and get stuff, like more food, or newspapers so that bedsheets don't get all crumby, things like that.
Now certain observant readers will have already realised I said I need books and a movie around me to sleep comfortably and are wondering at the contradiction. Well, there isn't anything paradoxical in that at all. As was mentioned to Jabberwock recently, I find something intensely soporific about watching movies at home. Especially when I'm watching from bed. It used to shock V, then he used it to tease me for a while, now we are both accustomed to this quaint little quirk in my nature (never mind all his rude little jabs in Jabberwock's post). It is taken for granted that a movie will be watched twice, the second time from somewhere in the middle, so that I can watch all the stuff I missed.
Those of you in the habit of feeling sorry for V (I wonder why your parents didn't do something about such nasty little habits when you were younger) can relax his time around. He was shocked when I slept through the end of Sanjuro, but by the time we sat down to Shaft (am refering to the orginial version here) he was prepared. He watched it through till the end, refused to let me see what I missed when I woke up, and has been firmly refusing to play it any more ever since. So I still don't know what happened.
*Ally, along with some books and stuff of ours, is due from Madras next week, with luck.