I watched 21 Jump Street, Senna, The World’s End (dubbed into Spanish, apparently by one actor), Singles, Rush, the first five minutes of Veronica Mars and the whole of The Grand Budapest Hotel. Senna and Rush were particularly horrific, for all the sights of what used to count as safety equipment (a fat French bureaucrat who accepted no defiance, and some old tires piled up near the track) and when it got to Niki Lauda’s ears getting burned off at the Nurburgring. That last bit of gore had me feeling so nauseous that I fled for the toilet, trying to blame the feeling of impending doom on getting too hot/not eating enough/being sat on a plane for forever without sleeping at all.
Continue reading “The loneliness of the long distance movie watcher”
This morning, after a night of packing and worrying about packing, we had our last doughnuts at Top Pot and took a car to Sea Tac. Foremanwife and Foremanbaby were on the 12:30 to Vancouver, while my flight to Hong Kong wasn’t for two more hours.
Continue reading “Left Behind In Seattle”
Today was our last full day in Seattle, and we had to pass a car seat on to friends, so while the rest of my family went to the Theo chocolate factory for a tour, I went to the Fremont Brewery to rendezvous.
The Brewery is an industrial grey shed near the Troll Bridge; outside there is a beer garden, a patch of cement, its perimeter defined by empty beer barrels. Inside the Brewery it’s more welcoming. There are glossy polished tables to sit at, and even a box of children’s toys. That was a godsend, because La Serpiente was too young to go on the chocolate factory tour, so I’d taken her to the brewery. (Does that put me in the running for Best/Worst Father Of The Year?) Having books to tear at, a plastic volcano to shout into and a model cement truck to gnaw on put her in hog heaven. This is a marked improvement on a few years ago, when they apparently just had a sign that said ‘BEER’ and, well, some beer.
Continue reading “Fremont Brewery”
Today it was cold and overcast, so after all these uncharacteristically sunny days in the Pacific Northwest, and after breakfast at Lola’s, another Tom Douglas restaurant, I finally had an excuse to go back to SAM and skulk away from the outside. Almost every time I’ve stayed in Seattle I’ve visited SAM, never actually paying anything for the privilege, so I didn’t feel too pained to be paying for the Modernist exhibition today, although most of it left me a little cold.
Continue reading “Modernism and babies”
It’s a gift that keeps on giving, the endless disappointment of watching each Transformers movie. The latest, Age of Extinction, was touted as having exciting dinosaurs in it, but apart from a cursory prologue, the all-kinds-of-awesome Dinobots don’t figure in the story until the geographically confused final part, when Hong Kong turns out to be in the middle of the countryside from the 19th century, and Beijing is just down the road.
Continue reading “Transformers: Age Of The Letdown”
Today was our daughter’s first birthday, and after we took a photo of her to match the photo from her birthday, and she’d opened presents (some new clothes, a backpack shaped like an owl, some books and toys) we headed out to the Dahlia Bakery for breakfast. Our daughter scrabbled in the dirt while we ate muffins full of fried eggs, and then as the sun was shining we walked down to the ferry terminal and took the boat over to Bainbridge Island.
Continue reading “First Birthday”
Today started grey. We walked out onto a slightly chillier street than yesterday, and went straight to Top Pot, where I’m happy to report fresh doughnuts taste a lot better than the late afternoon ones we suffered last week. With plenty of fat and coffee inside us, we trooped down to Yesler Street, where we left my parents and sister at the Underground Tour of Seattle, then marched to CenturyLink Field, via an electric bike shop, to get tickets for the stadium tour. After that, we wandered back to pick up the rest of my family, stopping to pet a labradoodle called Zeppelin at Occidental Square. The sun was starting to come out and the day was freshening up nicely, and we also found the Martyr Sauce gallery on Pioneer Square – I’d met the artist behind it when I was at SAM last June, but couldn’t remember the name for the life of me. This blog was also no help in reminding me of her name … ah, if only my outsourced memory was more reliable. http://www.cushtie.com/sam-i-am/ Continue reading “Football Tuesday”