Had a quiet day, achieved little having stayed up late the night before watching The Wicker Man. This has been prompted by a Facebook discussion, and although at the time I commented to my friend to the effect that I found the film difficult, I still watched it. I'm talking about the 1973 version with British cast, set in Scotland. I don't know how its supposed to be interpreted. I always start despising the policeman, who seems ridiculously pompous. By the end, I think I'm just like him and would have fallen for it all and been burned alive trying to do a good deed.
I was so worked up by the end of the film that I had to eat fish fingers and watch various things on i-player that I now don't remember. I got to bed by 4am and woke bleary at lunchtime. The best I made of the day was to cook chicken drumsticks and open a packet of salad. I was so lazy I even refused to help Nick collect the car from the MOT place.
What should I write when there's nothing to say? Well, to be honest, maybe nothing. I am ashamed.
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