(and I went even further afield this time, Beyond Cromer aka BC)
where the weather was perfect for beaches, crab salads, cream teas and a trillion beach hut images.
Driving around the leafy lanes exploring and cooing at perfect houses in perfect places full of people obviously leading perfect lives, I felt a deep nostalgia for England and her quiet unassuming glory.
And a sense of good fortune on my part that I live here.
I was feeling quite excited about seeing 'The Time Traveller's Wife' at the pictures (I always call the cinema that)
but I should have known better. After enjoying the slightly confusing story in book form I should have left it at that, but always curious to see how someone else saw the tale, I couldn't resist.
I won't spoil it for you and it's suffice to say that I cried.
(I'm a sucker for a romance and partial to a bit of emotional music)
And I was scared to sniff because of the close proximity of people who were unmoved and didn't want to draw attention to myself, as I had already received what I perceived to be a glare on opening my crinkly bag of giant chocolate buttons.
But I was quite cross that the main character (The Time traveller's Wife herself, Claire) who is an artist was hardly seen to be one at all. This was a great disservice to the book I thought. There was one scene of her making a piece of paper and that was it. And a laughable folded newspaper picture above the fireplace in another scene. As far as I remember in the book, her work conjured up great visuals for me as she created wonderful installations with paper. I don't understand why this was not seized upon to make a great arty visual cinematic experience. The nature of a book or piece of paper being a great metaphor for immortality and all. Gutted I was. Aren't movie people interested in the details? I bet the author Audrey Niffenegger had no say in it at all as she teaches printing and book production in Chicago. One of the downsides to selling your work to Hollywood. I shall chase them down the garden path and beyond the hedge when they come knocking. Unless there are clauses.
If you aint got clauses, get orf my land.
Just had to get that off my chest dear bloggerati.
Film critique over.
Loulou for director/producer/artistic direction next time. And catering.