Spring has sprung(ish).
Finishing more new books since January this year than I read during the whole of 2017.
The second half of the last season of Mad Men finally appearing on Netflix.
Completing fun weekend projects together, especially the tortuous process that is replacing a seal on a washing machine.
Using up the last of my Christmas dried fruit. A new recipe for fruit cake worked out well.
We have another evening at Heron and Grey to look forward to. I enjoyed it so much the last time I’m almost afraid it won’t live up to expectations this time.
We started watching Mad Men, having finished The Handmaid’s Tale. I can’t believe I didn’t watch it when it was a current drama. It’s reached a really good bit and I can’t wait to see more.
The Mueller investigation is heating up. My subscription to The New York Times is worth every penny. I cannot wait to see how this mess of a presidency ends. I really hope the plot twist involves Mr. Tangerine Man getting shuffled out of office before he kills us all.
A colleague alerted me to this treasure trove yesterday in work. Apparently the Irish Film Institute has decided it would be a great thing indeed if we all had access to the television advertisements of yore. I spent far too much time trying to suppress laughter and getting wrapped up in nostalgia.
I loath advertisements on television now, and switch channels quickly or avoid them entirely. I wonder if I’ll even remember any of today’s advertisements if they end up like the ones from the old days.
The OJ Simpson case passed me by in 1994 and 1995. I was a teenager when the murders and subsequent trial took place. I’m not into sports at all so his sporting achievements meant nothing to me and being on the other side of the pond his celebrity status wasn’t really on my radar. This was a time when about two other people in my class in school had internet access and the only rolling news channel was Sky News-even the BBC would shut down for the night after a particular hour.
So I wasn’t expecting to be as gripped and mesmorised by the TV series about this trial as I was. I hadn’t thought much about the case for a long time and I only happened to watch the first episode because my husband was away for a night and it was on at a convenient time. I’m extremely glad I watched it, because it is thought provoking on many levels. The age I’m at now and my life circumstances mean I relate a lot to the juggling Marcia Clark was doing during the case, alongside constantly being judged based on what you’re wearing. I couldn’t help but wonder how she’d be expected to cope with Twitter these days and what cruel hashtags would accompany her various makeovers.
Vanity Fair did a really interesting series of fact checks and I fell down a rabbit hole reading about a trial I remembered little about, beyond the fact that it was shown on TV-shocking for me because here trials simply don’t ever appear on TV-and the verdict was an event in itself. Gofugyourself also had a recap of each episode, and again the links within the recaps fleshed out a lot of the case for me.
As with any TV show, things need to be rearranged and dramatised for both artistic and storytelling reading. I was so glad to see the two victims shown at the end of the last episode. And another detail shook me, namely, how young they both were. I’ll turn 35 this year, the same age Nicole was when she died. Ron Goldman was only 25, and was killed because he was doing a good deed and, as much as I hate the phrase, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It didn’t strike me at the time, but it certainly does now, that justice and the law are often two very different things.