cherubs in burgos

poseurs in burgos

house signs in vitoria

an elliptical bandstand on the avenue in san sebastian

san sebastian

playa de laga

an acorn from guernica

cafe casino in santiago de compostela

an elegant bar/restaurant/cafe with carved panels all around that seem to be inspired by dante's visions of purgatory, appropriate for a place of pilgrimage where people hoped to reduce the time they might spend there

there's always plenty to smile about in bilbao

an annoyingly grainy picture of the cemetery at goiriz, i kept forgetting to reset my camera for daylight after taking indoor pictures

karaoke nights in granada ... salvador dali sings "its my party and i'll cry if i want to"

a "souvenir" for "la peregrina"

we'll be back ...

our noisiest neighbours

too busy ... i haven't taken many pictures this week so here's an old one of a lovely old friend and her lovely old cat

the resident at bailiffscourt

how farmers wrap straw on the sussex downs ... although some say it is all done by fairies under the moonlight

ashdown forest acorns

did i say that we'll be going to northern spain next week ? ( the beginning of september )

role models for young wimmin ... an occasional series ... chapter one ... moody and difficult

marriage guidance tips ... safety first ... always leave the stairways cleared for action

marriage guidance tips ... part 99

rhett might find married life a lot less bumpy if he made the tea more often

when i'm emperor, the last saturday in august will be national emotional blackmailers day

she allows herself to be manipulated by two emotional blackmailers ...


















... so it all ends rarther badly

one, two, three, up she goes ... a nice moment from the red shoes ... the film is crammed with lovely moments

by some traffic lights at the west end of acton high street

regular visitors to the covent garden market

prize eejit

almost the entire scene i described yesterday can be seen on youtube

sorry for wasting your time ... and mine !

however, you may notice that the ?americanised? subtitles have lost much in translation

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TN8Mp3FXiUg

Michel Serrault in La Cage Aux Folles

http://film.guardian.co.uk/obituaries/0,,2140865,00.html

I was watching yet another comedy last night; it was La Cage Aux Folles yet again, when I belatedly learned of the recent death of the actor Michel Serrault. The film must have been made nearly 30 years ago.

Renato, the butch Italian manager of La Cage Aux Folles, a gay cabaret in St. Tropez, and his French partner of twenty years, Albin who is the club’s starring drag/drama queen, endeavour to pass themselves off for one evening as an Italian cultural attaché and his wife. This is because Renato has a son who wants to marry the daughter of a well-known right wing politician, a Deputy.




















As in many partnerships, when there is a disagreement, there follows a competition to be "right". Renato, it seems, likes to give good advice, but doesn't know when to stop. In this scene, they go into a working-class bar along the street to compose themselves after a tiff. They pass straight through the bar to sit alone in an empty back room and I have always loved the ensuing low-budget scene in which the butch Renato tells the effeminate Albin how to butter his toast like a real man. This quickly becomes a duet of stereotypical camp gestures and posturing.

part two ... renato tries to take care of albin

Bartender enters: Bonjour, Monsieur Renato ! Bonjour Albin !



















Renato: Bonjour Marcel ! Two teas with milk, and some biscottes ?


Bartender, staring at Albin: What’s wrong with him ?


Renato: Oh nothing. He’s just overtired.


Bartender: Don’t you want to lie down ?


Renato: No, he’ll be fine after a cup of tea.

Albin: ( just as the bar tender is going out of the door ) … Salt-free biscottes ! ... Well, what are we going to do about tonight?


Renato: Quite a problem. Two men like us ... what can we tell them?



















Renato soaks a table napkin in the drinking water and uses it with great tenderness to cool Albin’s throat, and then his forehead.

Albin: Thank you, Darling. That feels good on my throat. Well, what could we tell them ? Maybe I could be ... I don't know ... a relative. His uncle, perhaps? Couldn’t you say I'm his uncle ? …

Renato: No !

Albin: All right, I know I don’t look like an uncle. But you’re not home and dry, either. In any case, you don't resemble your character either. Didn't Laurent say you were a cultural attaché?

Renato: Yes ! So ?

Albin: Cultural attaché ! Hah ! You don't know what culture is! Oh, la la ! We’re not out of the woods yet ! Hah !