Who the **** is Alice?

We seem to have fallen 'in tune' with our local cinema lately, always turning up accidentally to the 3D showing, just in time to go straight in. The film of choice this time was Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, currently topping box-office charts for the third week running. I can see why too; I quite liked it. It's not trying to be a previous version of the story, or even a re-write. It's an entirely different angle, which gives it licence to explore new avenues, free from pre-conception, while still staying true to Lewis Carroll's original vision. Refreshing.

I'm a huge Alice fan anyway, in all her many guises; but I think I surprised myself, as I wasn't expecting to like the movie - especially considering the original, animated version is my favourite Disney film ever. I think I'm enchanted by the fantasy, the nonsense, the fact that it could go on forever with no real outcome, the freedom, the imagination, the larger-than-average personalities, and the outright madness. 

Talking of madness... Johnny Depp's Mad Hatter was a bit of a disappointment. The amount of screen time and free reign given to explore the character doesn't equate with the bland, predictable 'mad' sort that we've seen many times before from Depp. The March Hare was much more amusing, with a mere fraction of dialogue. I would also much prefer to see a pink, stripy Cheshire Cat, instead of a black one that just doesn't do his personality justice - although Stephen Fry is the perfect voice. 

The Red Queen is portrayed brilliantly by Helena Bonham-Carter, leaving the White Queen (Anne Hathaway) literally paling in comparison. Matt Lucas makes the perfect Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee, and using a 'virtually unknown' actress to play Alice is a great idea - Mia Wasikowska is perfect.

I'm glad I went to see it; both to form my own opinions, and to expand my own personal 'Wonderland'. 

More Mojitos Please

I'd bagged some tickets to the opening of a new club last night, with a free cocktail on arrival. I had a fair few of these tickets, but only managed to rustle up two free-and-single friends for the evening, which meant more cocktails per person...
Actually, the free cocktails turned out to be the best bit of the whole evening. The club itself makes use of an otherwise dead space underneath a glitzy waterside casino, and it has just that feeling about it... No, not the 'glitzy casino' feel, but a rushed, after-thought atmosphere, mixed with the stench of somebody making a quick buck. Filling the space with leather, chandeliers and an expensive, swirly carpet may impress on the first night, but six months down the line it will already look tired and outdated, not to mention dirty.
The DJ was awfully average, playing chart crowd-pleasers from a tiny, uninspiring booth in the corner of a tiny, uninspiring dancefloor. There was a girl crooning half-heartedly in the only other room, with a couple of bored-looking, gold-sprayed human statues for decoration. The punters were an odd collective of lonely, single lads, bolshy girls and middle-aged, gold-digger types.
But, the mojitos were fresh and strong, and we were grateful for them; the cloakroom was free, a nice touch. When the cocktail tokens ran out, we moved on to an old student haunt, and had just as much of a good time. Shame we had to trek the length of town to get there, to where all the other busy bars and clubs are... Nice try Club Rosso, but I probably won't be visiting again any time soon - I've seen it all before...

In The Good Book

What a long, long day I've had... Listed goes to print tomorrow, so it was all hands on deck today to get it finished and proofed in time.
I shunned my usual ad-sales role, and replaced it with a long morning in the bar next-door to the office - drinking paid-for cappuccinos and proof-reading to my heart's content (I relish in spotting a typo at fifty paces). In the afternoon I put together: an Easter shopping advertorial for a shopping centre, some blurb about a new art exhibition, a gig preview, and chased up outstanding artwork from advertisers. It took me an extra couple of hours, which meant I'd been working about 10 hours straight (the absent-minded scoffing of a cheese sarnie at my desk counting as 'lunch'), and was a lot to get done in a relatively short time; but it made it all worthwhile to receive a text full of praise from my editor... she said my work was 'perfect' considering the time I had to write it, which certainly made the long drive home in the pouring rain more bearable! I'm exhausted, but exhilarated.

Swim for your Supper

I have definitely been better at keeping up the exercise regime lately. I haven't done this much regular exercise since I quit my expensive-but-worth-it-if-you-go-three-times-a-week gym, to go to university.
At uni I found plenty of other things to occupy my mind and body. I got a fair bit of walking in (power-walking if late for class - pretty much every day), but much of my cardio work was done drunkenly on the dancefloor. Not particularly healthy, but exhilarating all the same.
I took up swimming in my final year, when a discount swim card became available for students, and I had time to trek across town to the pool (parking fees were extortionate), but I still only averaged about once a fortnight. Swimming sparked my competitive streak though, and I found myself really focussing and setting personal goals.
64 lengths in a 25m pool is equal to 1 mile, so this nice round figure was always my goal. At uni I was still a dirty smoker, so the magic '64' was only achieved in addition to much coughing, spluttering and resting. Now, 8 and a half months after quitting, the coughing has completely stopped, and 64 lengths is slightly easier, but still knocks me out for the day. I take this as a good sign.
Nowadays, I just try to get my time down, although I haven't been very successful. It still takes me an hour (I am not the most graceful of swimmers; there is absolutely no 'technique' involved), but then subconsciously I probably think that if it took less time, I'd have to carry on to make it an hour's workout anyway...
So, off to the pool this afternoon, to burn off the calories I will be drinking in the pub later. The words 'fighting', 'losing' and 'battle' come to mind...

Souper

Continuing on my health-trip - unusual for me, but I'm not getting any younger and summer's coming - I have recently been getting into soup. Yes, "getting into" soup. That is, appreciating its low calorie content, nutritional properties and value for money. And feeling good when only having one slice of bread with it (sometimes toasted with cheese.....).
I made my first batch of home-made today: carrot and coriander. Delicious, even if I may say so myself.

Here is the recipe (serves 6 - 8), adapted from a few available on BBC food:

4 small onions, chopped
4 cloves garlic, crushed
800g carrots, chopped
1 large handful fresh coriander, chopped
1.5l vegetable stock
olive oil
salt and pepper

1. Gently fry onions and garlic for 5 mins until soft
2. Add carrots and coriander, cook for another 5 mins
3. Add stock, simmer for 5 mins
4. Season to taste
5. Allow to cool, then blend.

The fabulous lime green colour is nothing to worry about! If preferred, you can add double cream before blending.
I made six large servings from this, storing some in the fridge and some in individual portions in the freezer.
Cost per serving: 45 pence !!

Baffling Buffet

This year, far too many of my friends reach the big 3-0. I celebrated the first of many last night at a popular buffet restaurant in Southampton, Tiger Lilly.
"Was it a Chinese or an Indian buffet?" I hear you cry.
"Yes", I reply, for this restaurant serves both.
I'm a huge fan of these two great cuisines (who isn't?), and the idea of unlimited amounts of either is sure to get me drooling. But the old saying of 'too many cooks spoil the broth' seemed so accurate here; the subtle and intricate flavours of each cuisine were somehow lost to each other. It wasn't like I went piling it all up together on one plate either, far from it. It was just too much for one palate to take, even a well-seasoned one like mine.
In general though, I can't criticise too much. The food was fresh, well-cooked and nicely flavoured - if a bit cold - and it's a great place for large parties as there's something to please everyone.
The best bit of the evening was the magician. He put a new spin on several seen-it-all-before tricks, not failing to impress us by switching our signed, tightly-clenched cards, or by making money disappear.

Where's Tinie?

Well this could be my first bad review. Usually I'm far too nice, but how can you be nice when the artist doesn't even show up?
I was asked to review a Tinie Tempah gig last night for Listed magazine, and was really looking forward to it. We got word from his PR yesterday that Tinie's impressive debut single, Pass Out, is set to top the UK charts this Sunday, as it's already sold over 16,000 copies. As a result, Tinie was suddenly available for interviews. I got even more excited as I got ready, composing awesome questions in my head for him, then prepared myself to hang around the venue for his midnight arrival.
The place was full of students. They cheered when a Rhianna remix was played, and left the 'floor whenever half-decent electro-grime came on. Speaks volumes. The Wizard and I felt very old and incongruous all of a sudden. We waited. We battled our way to the bar with our 'free drink' passes, elbows avoiding the sticky pools of spilt sambuca. We waited some more. Midnight came and went. The compére said Tinie Tempah would be arriving in 15 minutes; we waited half an hour. At 1pm, my feet were killing me (stupid 'no trainers' dresscode, which the students got away with!) and we were seriously flagging, while all around us people got drunker and more unstable. We left.
I really like the single, I think Tinie Tempah is talented and has lots more tricks up his sleeves, but he ain't gonna get very far by keeping people waiting. Sorry Tinie.

And Still They Come

The local printer's left me a voicemail saying they had received my CV a while back (kindly donated by The Wizard during the bleakest depths of graduate unemployment, I believe). I didn't think much more about until they called again, later that evening. Turns out they used to have a full-time, in-house graphic designer, until she fell in love over the internet and buggered off to Newcastle. But they now handle much of the design work themselves, and they have a surplus... which is where I come in.
I'm designing them a promotional flyer, to be distributed through almost every letterbox in my small-ish town. There doesn't appear to be a fixed timescale, or price, on this job, but it's been hinted that it could lead to more design odd-jobs. They certainly have a lot to advertise too: in a small shop space they can print A0 size plans, vinyl stickers for vehicles, canvas and even ribbon, not to mention the digital embroidery, passport photos and while-u-wait photo kiosk. It's pretty impressive, and makes me want to get back to making our university magazine, Thrift. It deserves to go into print!