A good day: I made a passable lunch for T and spent time with my nephew: his giggling makes my heart sing.
Tonight I spent with a great friend, Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess. I’d loved One Day so much I’d read it again for book club: and felt my contribution to our discussion had infuriatingly betrayed the emotional connection I’d made with the novel.
I’d cast myself in the role of Emma and I too fell in love with the oh-so-sexily flawed Dexter Mayhew.
The critics had shredded the movie: Hathaway in particular, I was more annoyed with the shredding of the nuances of the novel itself: but oh, Dexter, I love you. Not since Robert Pattison entered stage left on to the Twilight screen, have I been so achingly enchanted by a cinematic character. Sturgess got Dexter, his portrayal of the role so closely resembled my understanding of it.
I’m mentally reviewing my chequered back catalogue of encounters in the fear I’ve let my Dexter slip away…
And on the drive home, I’d a sudden memory flash of an Easter Monday from forever ago, spent ruining my liver in Galway… Such a trip would kill me now but the halcyon if rather hazy memories made me smile.