Peat and other omitted items

I forgot to blog yesterday. Well, actually, I had to make a lovely turkey soup and then watch Finding Neverland and then my eyes were puffy and I couldn't type. (Oh whatever. It was worth a try no matter how lame.)

Some items forgot to mention in previous entry on Irish festivity (E has thoughtfully added the appropriate mention of towns in comment section -- well, maybe it didn't begin with a 'K'... but it was close! Thank you, E. One note: reference to, and I quote, repeated mention of 'the mysterious E' seems to be increasing excitement levels in the Ark-La-Tex of meeting said celebrity in a month -- you had best grow out the green mohawk and hide your glitter butterfly tattoo...):
* the top layer of the wedding cake is indeed saved and frozen.
* BUT it is not for the first anniversary... it is for the Christening Cake! Hoorah!
* (insert here some other stuff I remembered yesterday but forgot today. make it coloured so the people won't notice.)
*AND PEAT! I cannot believe forgot about PEAT! (this will get it's own entire section, not just a bullet point as much explaining must be done.)

At home (on the 11 days per year it is actually a tad nippy -- you know, below 60*F/15*C), we burn wood in our fire places (unless we are posh and have nifty things that look like real fires, but are not). And perhaps most people knew/know this already and forgot to tell me, but in Ireland, they burn peat. Peat is sort of like dirt, but complex dirt. Peat comes from a bog. My mental lexis grouping had bog as an equivalent of swamp, in the Florisiana sense of the word. So the image of what comes from a swamp bottom being burned as a fuel made absolutely no sense to me. Until someone said, 'Put some more peat on the fire' and I said, 'Who's Pete and why does he have to go in the fire' (just kidding) and so I did (and we know how I love to play in the fire). Peat also smells just ever so slightly different than firewood and there is even peat incense for sale in the duty-free shop in Knock Airport (which I shall attack on a rant against bureaucracy, but not now as it will sour mood).

When you fly over Ireland or you drive along the road, there are these fields that are tilled up dark, dark brown dirt-looking stuff with trenches between. To me, these always looked like some of the richest soil imaginable which must be used for growing magnificent beet roots or something. But no. These are peat bogs. There are special machines that people hire to come once a year and cut up the bog on their land and leave the peat to dry until it is needed as fuel and then they go out and get stock. I found this whole concept fascinating.

Tonight, then on the way back from the movies with Sally, I asked what exactly are The Broads of Norfolk. And it turns out they are man-made waterways that are partially the result of peat being dug out. Now, the waterways are purely used for pleasure boating (Sally is not terribly impressed with the experience as it is not overly exciting, but I think I might like it).

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Movie reviews (in v. brief):
Finding Neverland -- now no one is allowed to mock me for not seeing it until now; we all know how long it takes me to see movies that everyone and their dog has seen 14 times. Johnny Depp is not to my eye the gorgeous being on the planet that everyone has decided he is, but I think he is quite the most fantastically versatile and talented actor. Now, am going to have to locate biography of J.M. Barrie...

Notes on a Scandal -- Wow. Amrie saw a movie in a theatre... and it wasn't vexing and Spanish, either. Although fully expected this to be Dame Judy Dench being pursed, disapproving and dour, with slightly amusing moments until the climax of revenge (which I anticipated as someone's house being burned or a tea cup thrown to the floor in a fit of pique), after which everyone parts and a nice sunset closes to never let the new enemies encounter each other again (maybe someone could move to the Dordogne). Now, it does close at dusk (equivalent to sunset in amrie lexis, although as we have seen above, this can be riddled with error), but this is as far as my prognosticative abilities went. Much more psychological, and were it not for the overlay of internal monologue of Dame Dench's character, it would be much darker. Although, this is where -- on a tangent here, if i may -- the difference lies between people who find nothing humourous in life and those who find great enjoyment and humour in life. Some people have an internal narration going, and some people don't. There is also a soundtrack to life, which some people are more adept at hearing than others, and this psychologically works similar to my theory on narration. This is a v. black comedy, and am not entirely sure it is an easy movie, as the two people with me were not sure that they liked it at all and labelled it 'a bit strange'. Cate Blanchett character much more likeable than in Babel. DD must have had an absolute ball of a time performing this character. And I think all my quirky friends should see this film.

Babel is just bizarre. It is terrifically long and, while there are interesting moments in the film and it is intriguing in its realism at points, there are also quite a few points where you want to slap characters for their utter stupidity. (Do I have a problem with anger projection onto inanimate and unreal objects? Hmmm.)