A Bit of Gallic.

I was feeling very tired this evening after some unaccustomed exertions in the garden and I needed something to wake me up. I didn’t think I’d survive going to bed at 7 o’clock, you see, not in my condition, so  I had to find something to keep me awake until it was time to go to sleep. It was a struggle until I remembered that I still had the DVD of Amelie which Mel lent me some time ago, so I decided to watch it for the third time.

(Oh come on, Jeffrey – or should I say Geoffroi – you can do better than that. What’s it really called, just to let the nice French people know that you’ve forgiven them for inventing Joan of Arc and stripey shirts, and the Entente Cordiale is bursting with renewed vigour? It’s really called Le Fabuleux Destin d’Amélie Poulain, right? So say it and do the shrug. Good. That’s better. Carry on.)

Well, the third time was the best, and when it was all over I decided that my renewed belief in the value of life must make Amelie (and the rest) the best film ever made. And then I returned to my own world and found it just as empty as when I left it.

Ah, but… you’ll never believe what happened exactly five minutes after I’d taken the DVD out of the computer. Nothing did. C’est la vie. Fin.