“The episode was finished, with the snapping of the lock. I glanced out of the window, and it was like turning the page of a photograph album. Those rooftops and that sea were mine no more. They belonged to yesterday, to the past.”—from Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier (via bestsimiles)
what I meant to say:I have a strong emotional attachment to this character and I often find myself having moments where I want nothing more than to reach out and hold them when they go through certain situations. Allow me to explain how I feel.
what I actually said:ASFDGHJK;LJLGFKJDSHFH;DJFHGJHL FEEEEEEEEELS /gross sobbing
They’re remaking Rebecca. Forgive me if I don’t jump for joy. I don’t want a new spin, it’s perfect as it is.
I don’t mind television adaptations, hell, I own one of them, but please don’t recreate the film :( It was fantastic, and Daphne loved it! Now she’s not around to give her opinion on some pile of junk Dreamworks are conjuring up. Have they not heard of “if it aint broke…”?
And if they cast Benedict Cumberbatch as Maxim de Winter as people seem to want them to, I’ll him…then myself. He’s still too young, and far too scrawny for Max. And Max is supposed to be handsome. Cumberbatch is not. He looks like a weasle.
And so help them God, if this goes ahead they better cast a fucking AMAZING Mrs Davers. She better give me nightmares for months. Judith Anderson cannot be beaten. But they could always try considering Pia for the role…
So I stayed over my Nan’s last night as I have done every night since returning home from university (my brother was given my room, and my aunty moved into his…cheers guys!) and what does the crazy lady do today? Forget that I’m in the bedroom asleep when she buggers off out. It’s not like this is something I don’t usually do! So, I go to leave, find the door locked, and realise it’s not long til I have to go to work. So after sitting on my arse and wondering what the hell I’m going to do, I realised the garden door always has the key in it.
So in a magical moment of genius, just like Indiana Jones (but far less athletic or awesome) I left her a note telling her to lock the garden door, and scaled the wall. Luckily for me, there was a garden chair out there or I’d never have gotten over it, but hell, it was a long way down! Managed to land on both feet, even if it was somewhat painful, and strolled home thinking I was awesome. I wasn’t, I couldn’t have done it more awkwardly if I tried, but I did it. Woop!
Does anybody know the name of the cafe/restaurant in Covent Garden Apple Market where the buskers stand outside and perform? There are lots of tables and chairs outside, where people can sit and eat and watch the performers?