Holiday Viewing

I've spent the past few days on the traditional post-Christmas family holiday. Usually in Sydney or at the coast, this year my family went all out and visited both locations.

New Year's Eve in Sydney means an evening of watching fireworks. Or, if you're one of those people whose parents let them stay out past midnight, a night of watching fireworks. Exciting stuff.

Sydney, for me, also means seeing my 17-year-old cousin Salamander. Salamander is one of those people who finds the concept of people living in Canberra absolutely hilarious. She can't understand why everyone doesn't live in Sydney, what with the plentiful buildings and beaches. I was hard pressed to think of something Canberra had that Sydney didn't.

LESLIE (L): We have an ice skating rink.

SALAMANDER (S): Yes. So do we.

L: How about museums?

S: We've got museums. AND beaches. You can't beat beaches. In Sydney you can beach it every day.

L: Beach it?

S: As in, go to the beach.

L: We don't need beaches. We have a lake.

S: Do you call up your friends and go 'Let's lake it for the day?' 'I'd like to lake it?'

L: No. Well. We have a war memorial.

S: 'Do you want to memorial it today?'

L: I've lost, haven't I?

S: Yes. Yes you have.

Superior as Sydney is, my family left on New Year's Day for the coast. We were rewarded with lovely pouring rain and plentiful mosquitoes. Not that mosquitoes bite me. I seem to be immune to them, but the RCG hates them. So much, in fact, that she is willing to practically drown herself in Aerogard as long as she's protected from their bites. This is all very well for her, but when there are five of you crammed into a medium-sized car, the scent of Aerogard pervading and suffocating, it's less pleasant. Just one of the many idiosyncrasies of the members of my family.

When forced to spend time with my family, I tend to hear fragments of bizarre conversations. Such as this one between the RCG and Drummer Boy:

RCG: If you could have a superpower, what would it be?

DRUMMER BOY (DB): I don't know. What would yours be?

RCG: I'd be able to fly. And be invisible.

DB: I think I'd like to be able to shoot bacon out of my ears.

Or, even more frequently, I tend to be involved in bizarre conversations. Such as this one on the subject of names. Drummer Boy, the RCG and me are all having our names changed soon. Nothing serious, just adding a middle name, but it did prompt this discussion (bearing in mind that Drummer Boy's full name is currently Drummer John Harper):

L: If we start here, where will it end? I might end up with seventeen middle names. Imagine the trouble filling in forms.

RCG: You wouldn't be able to remember all of them anyway.

DB: I'd like to change my name.

RCG: What to?

DB: Drummer Discus John Batman Batman Brooke Harper.

L: Two Batmans?

DB: How about three?

L: Two is fine.

RCG: Why discus?

DB: I like how it sounds.

That's Drummer Boy for you. He's basically the way I imagine Aviator must have been as an eleven-year-old. In fact, they get on surprisingly well. Aviator recorded a song. Drummer Boy remixed it. Aviator suggested, through me, that they form a musical comedy duo. Drummer Boy, through me, accepted. Considering the five year age gap, and the fact they've only met once, I think things are going well.

When you're at the coast, and it's raining, there's not much else you can do but watch films or read. I read a lot. By the time we went home I'd read all the books the RCG and I had brought, and was so desperate I resorted to reading recipe books.

Anyway, we watched a lot of films.

Some were terrible. One was a murder mystery set in a 13th-century monastery. I don't know how they did things back then, but I'm fairly sure the corpses aren't meant to BLINK while the hero, a former James Bond actor, is examining them. Some were cosmically significant. Those of you who have seen Inception will be aware that, moving aside from the general trippiness/awesomeness of said film, one of the key characters is an old man (the father), who dies. Said old man is played by an actor called Pete Postlethwaite. Well, my family are the kind of pedantic people who Google films right after watching them. And we discovered that Pete Postlethwaite had died an hour and a half previously - exactly when the character he played died in the film. Cosmic.

Some films may have been awful, but one was terrific. Anyone in my family - also Giuseppe, to whom I have expressed my new-found love for this film - will know the one I'm talking about. GATTACA. Awesome.

I found Gattaca on sale in the shops today, and bought it without a second thought. Why not? Jude Law is amazing, something I have failed to appreciate until now. He's the one on the far right in the picture. Jude Law's amazing amazingness is compounded by the fact that he stars in not one, but TWO films with Stephen Fry. One of which, unfortunately, isn't released until December 16th this year. Just a warning to everyone. I'm going to be impossible to talk to in the week before its release. Not quite up to Ariane-Lala-City of Glass standard. But close.

Anyway, this has been leading up to a conversation I had with the RCG on the subject of film. Japanese film in particular. She was criticising the names I'd given our two- and four-year-old half Japanese cousins. 'I mean, An? And Pan? What was that about?'

'I named them after their favourite show. You know, Anpanman?' (see picture to the right.

Anpanman is the hero of a Japanese children's anime. His head is made of bread. So far as I've been able to ascertain, this is his only superpower. Even being able to shoot bacon out of your ears would be more useful.)

'In Japanese, that means Breadman. You basically named Pan "Bread",' said the RCG.

'She won't care. She's two.'

'Yeah, but you could have named her after a different Japanese film or anime.'

'I don't know any other Japanese animes!' I pointed out.

'You must have watched some.'

'I haven't. I don't speak Japanese.'

'Well, I've watched some,' she said.

'You don't speak Japanese either.'

'I learn it at school!' she said indignantly.

'What have you learnt to say?'

'You know, basic things - like asking people's name, about their family, their pets . . .'

'And you're somehow able to watch entire animes in Japanese and know what they're saying?'

'Yes.'

'That's impossible,' I said triumphantly. 'You couldn't do a whole film.'

'Yes, I could.'

'Then how?'

'Because, Leslie,' she said wearily, 'I use subtitles.'

Leslie's Recipes: Tortellini

You, my readers, will know well what happens when I am unleashed in an ordinary suburban kitchen. My family, it seems, do not. Only yesterday my mother said to me (while I was innocently trying to watch an episode of 'This Is David Harper', one of the best shows ever made; hence, I was not at the height of my arguing skills) 'Could you see to dinner? You just have to get the tortellini from that packet in the fridge and cook it, and serve it with some grated cheese or something.'

With this brief, I reluctantly agreed to the task, girded myself (metaphorically speaking, as I wouldn't have a clue as to how to gird something, even if I tried), and set to it. For those of you who would like to follow my progress, the recipe is here, although it comes with a health-and-safety warning.

1. Open fridge. Look for tortellini. Discover a complete absence of tortellini. Take things out of the fridge in attempt to see better. Find ravioli, jar of jam, and anchovies. Still no tortellini.

2. Eat anchovy to raise strength. Put tin back and look for tortellini again.

3. Enlist parent's help in finding tortellini. Parent points out tortellini packet on shelf below the one I was searching through. Remove tortellini from fridge.

4. On closer inspection, the tortellini are bright green. Experience feeling of worry until noticing that packet says they are spinach flavour. Hope this means food poisoning will not result from consumption of said pasta - although with spinach, you never know.

5. Boil kettle. While waiting for kettle to boil, go and watch 'This Is David Harper' or show of similar excellence.

6. Realise kettle has boiled and cooled down again while show was being watched. Re-boil kettle.

7. Pour boiling water in large saucepan.

8. Realise should have put tortellini in saucepan first, as otherwise, when placed in pan, boiling water will splash.

9. Try putting tortellini in one by one. Get bored. Try throwing handfuls in from a distance instead. This is less accurate, but more efficient. Also getting good practice in with aiming skills for netball.

10. Turn heat on.

11. Discover younger brother (Drummer Boy) in room. As pasta is now cheerfully boiling away, decide to give him the English speech that is due tomorrow, even if he won't understand it.

12. Drummer Boy criticises several main points of English speech. Pasta tries to boil over. The distraction is welcome.

13. Eject Drummer Boy from room, claiming to be too busy to listen to him.

14. Watch tortellini cook, stirring occasionally.

15. Get bored and search the fridge for cheese.

16. In meantime, pasta boils over again. Turn stove right down to prevent re-occurrence of same incident.

17. Search for cheese again. Eventually, kneel down in despair at non-presence of cheese. Look up to discover cheese is now at eye-level.

18. Realise pot has stopped boiling all together. Turn heat up again. This time, swear to pay close attention.

19. Catch pot just before it boils over. Success!

20. Wonder when tortellini is supposed to be finished. Cannot check cooking instructions as have thrown packet away. Remember that with spaghetti, one way of telling whether it's cooked or not is to throw it at the ceiling. If it sticks, it's done.

21. Tortellini is not done. Either that, or my ceiling is non-stick.

22. Eat some tortellini in despair. It tastes done. Decide to risk it and serve.

23. In exhaustion, try to get Drummer Boy to grate cheese.

24. Drummer Boy fails in an epic manner. Clearly I am not the only culinary disappointment in this household. Younger sister is forced to grate cheese instead, which she does with much reluctance.

25. Decide to drain tortellini.

26. Drop tortellini in sink.

27. Rescue tortellini. Look for colander. Cannot find colander. Drain tortellini in sieve instead.

28. Serve tortellini up. Eat. Am hugely impressed with my skill with food. Sister is less impressed it took half an hour to cook pasta. She still eats it, though. Am glad I decided not to mention my attempts to stick pasta to ceiling before consumption of said pasta.

29. Celebrate by reading Wodehouse throughout dinner. Meal is a success.