Soldiering on with the crowd photos:
Things other people have done:
- Made an intimidatingly big interactive map designed to show the true distances between solar system bodies (planets, moons, and the sun, the asteroids are too small to show up).
I’ve never made muffins before. I can identify two major problems with what I’ve ended up with:
- Too much flour, so they’re not really what you’d call “light and fluffy”.
- Not enough of one of the flavours I was intending to use.
- 1 egg (medium)
- 100g caster sugar
- 125ml milk (semi-skimmed or whole)
- 5ml vegetable oil
- 200g plain flour
- 5tsp baking powder
- 1/2 tsp salt
What I actually put in, for some reason related to my painfully terrible understanding of mental arithmetic:
- 275g plain flour
- 25g of custard powder
- some rhubarb
What that should have been:
- 100g plain flour
- 100g custard powder
- some rhubarb
Part of the problem I think was not being able to reduce the recipe down sufficiently. What I have there made about 17 bloody muffins, which is a lot more muffins than I need. I am growing increasingly annoyed by the assumption of every recipe site ever that the only person mad enough to cook their own food is someone with a household of, apparently, 10 people.
Well, with any luck my coworkers won’t object to some slightly bland muffins with rhubarb in them.
At least they’re not very big. I suppose I could just lob them out of the window at the people in the beer garden behind my house. Maybe I could coat one in rubber and bounce it off the head of that one woman who sounds exactly like Graham Chapman pretending to be an old lady. Anything’s possible.
Ordinarily, the more I like a current release, the less I want to write about it. Not through superstition or a kind of hipster snobbery – “no one else should be into this thing because they’ll only like it wrong” is stupid, and with small films actively damaging – but through a kind of fear that, should I express enthusiasm for the thing, ten thousand people will descend at once to explain to me that I am wrong, bad, and On Some Kind of List for having liked it.
However, I feel that the only people likely to be pissed off by Pride are the kind of people I should relish pissing off.
Set almost exactly thirty years ago, Pride tells the story of L.G.S.M; “Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners”, the 84-85 miner’s strike, and the power of the union; not the miner’s union but the union between two groups of people persecuted by the red-tops and Thatcher’s government.
In some ways it reminds me a little of The Full Monty, which I rewatched recently and which I discovered still has the power it had when it was released, to lift my spirits and provide a sense of warm, familiar welcome in a canon of film dominated by American releases and aspirations that enter the realms of the delusionally glossy. It relates to the UK’s lost industries, too, and to the ability of unusual friendships and activities to raise people from the gloom and horror of external/financial depression.
Because the subject matter is very hard – the attempt by the privileged and wealthy to break the backbone of the hard-working and supposedly powerless – and because of when it is set – right at the first peak of the AIDS crisis – there are some terribly bleak and sad moments in this comedy. There are some terribly dignified and heartwarming ones too, amid the laughter, and the acknowledgement that fear brings out the best in some people and the worst in others.
A slew of familiar locations, character types, and class coding, as well as the very faint and nascent memories of the time, formed in an extremely young mind, made this feel as if the film had been made especially for me. As the Resident Australian commented: “It’s about queer history and socialism, it’s like they wanted you to come and see it”.
I don’t think I’ve been made this happy by a film in a long, long time: it has a perfect blend of established talent and new stars, it has the perfect mix of triumphs and bitter failures, it has humour and kindness and warmth by the bucketload, and it has a great deal of pride in the union between working men cast down by their callous government, and queer men and women cast out, in many cases, by their families.
Definitely worth watching more than once.
The 30s women’s trousers pattern with adaptations is working overtime: after the scarlet breeches and the tweed breeks, and the joyous perfecting of no-hassle elasticated waists (the trick is to make the entire waistband, including elastic, separately, and have the cloth the same length as the undarted waistline, then you can just attach it to the finished trousers in one easy go), I put together these:
Fabrics: furnishing fabric from Saeeds Fabrics in Walthamstow, leftover tweed from the breeks, and leftover £1-a-metre cotton from making a toile for future coat magnificence.
The elasticated waist looks a bit ridiculous but as it’s also going to be somewhere above my navel no one is going to see it under normal circumstances.
Necessity as always the mother of invention, I didn’t have quite enough on the strip for both the waistband and the cuffs, and didn’t want to cut more from the material, so I “mounted” the moleskin on some tweed, which extended it enough to meet against itself (and damn my fat calves). Reinforced the back of the tweed with tape, got the other half to slam some grommets through it, and laced it up with silk cord. Magic.
The transformation into an Elizabethan stock theatre character continues…