I registered at the local GP today and spent twenty minutes in the waiting room staring at a poster that read "Wake Up To Rape". Offering that kind of service at a health centre? What do they think they're playing at?
I also went to a right yummy Indian restaurant in Greenwich, and the local Picturehouse gave us free tickets and drinks in exchange for membership, the sillies. So I guzzled the new "Pepsi Raw" (I don't know... plant extract, or something? What does that mean? How do you do that?) and we saw Made in Dagenham, a film about the first female strike for equal pay in late 1960s England. It was a real kind of endearing film, and funny too -- and still would have been endearing and funny if its script wasn't a step-by-step repeat of the prosperous Calender Girls template. Maybe I can write a movie like this too; I have a "find and replace" tool on my copy of Word.
Still, if Made in Dagenham gives off exactly the same kind of feeling as Calender Girls (which it does), then that's no bad thing. Don't know why I'm grumbling about it, really.