What a difference a week makes. I become a certificated artist and guess what happens?
- my children become agoraphobic. Repeated attempts at leaving the house are sabotaged by either or both of them during the May holidays
- I discover a talent for Guitar Hero (played with adapted guitar) and on an Xbox rigged to the biggest home cinema I've ever seen thanks to dear friends R&R
- I start making books, books out of envelopes, out of cardboard, in fact anything that can be made into some kind of horizontal surface for writing on
- I am invited to Ascot (by husband, so am not sure it counts) but I've never been before and it is a fine excuse to buy a frock
- I go to the cinema by myself (after having spent 72 hours in the company of agoraphobic offspring) to see 'Sex and the City' and am transported back to the evenings I spent with SJP and her friends during the 1990s.
I saw SATC at Chippenham cinema which is like going back in time only slightly grubbier. I was expecting queues of glamorous gangs of girly friends, giggling about rabbits and brazilians but, well, no. There was a man called Fred with his carer, both of whom got in free, two ladies who filled me in on the plot of 'Desperate Housewives' and were obviously big fans too and then lots of young people who must have been watching SATC when they shouldn't have been.
It was good, not brilliant, but fairly great and I laughed out loud and had a great cry at the end. SJP looked fabulous if you could get past her charming mole and her extra smoky eyeshadow. She does look different on a big screen. The clothes and the shoes and the manaccessories were as fabulous as ever and Samantha got the funniest lines.
If you ever get trapped in the house with your offspring, I suggest a solitary visit to the cinema. It did me no end of good as my Nan, Flo, would have said.