dom.blog

Assuming my mum’s negatives were labelled correctly, this was me at thirteen

Today, this blog officially becomes a teenager. Happy thirteenth birthday, blog! No one will like you for a couple of years.

I’ve never thought about it this way before, but I guess we’re also getting close to the point where I’ll have been blogging for over half of my life. This messes with my internal chronology, as did discovering that the Lib Dem candidate for the Brent Central constituency – where I will soon have to cast a hastily arranged proxy vote for someone – is a mere 22 years old. That doesn’t seem acceptable. Or how about this: if Theresa May wins a thumping majority, I could be just shy of 33 before getting any chance to vote in a general election. At that point, stop counting.

Our Adler crew of victorious scavenger hunters

None of this ageing crisis applies to Doctor Who. Randi and I saw the first episode of the new series in the cinema and we both loved it so much. Bill is a wonderful new companion who instinctively makes me smile, Capaldi is warmer and friendlier and the whole thing feels fresh and exciting and adventurous. (This is not a reaction against the last series, which I also loved, but it certainly feels different.)

Last week we also had our third outing to Adler After Dark where we supported Catherine and AJ’s strenuous efforts to complete the scavenger hunt and win free drink vouchers. We also learnt about the hypothetical Planet Nine in a presentation which confirmed how ridiculous Pluto’s ‘planet’ status always was. I resent people who cheer for Pluto at astronomy presentations. I’m that person. (See how I’ve hardened over the years…)

Finally, we also saw Scapegoat at the Den Theatre. In the play, a trio of ‘Religious Freedom Caucus’ politicians face off against an old, established, liberal senator and his family. Also, the senator is secretly a Satanist. Also, his son has converted to Christianity after losing his wife. There are a lot of “also,” moments in this play in general, which was fun to watch (because, c’mon, it has whole scenes about Senate procedure!) but didn’t actually make a lot of sense. Most obviously, a constitutional amendment to force a national referendum on “any law affecting the rights of a minority” is a terrible idea, and someone should have told the playwright this.

The faces of pure joy

Looking at the wrong camera

Finally finally, above are the amazing Meepillows which Catherine and AJ went to extraordinary lengths to get for us! A very special day.

In much the same spirit as Chrismukkah, I enjoyed my first ever Passover Seder on Monday night with Randi, Carrie and Jason. The Jews guided the gentiles through the dipping of wine, the dipping of herbs, the dipping of spirits as another lengthy prayer is encountered and the basic discourtesy shown to the group by the Prophet Elijah. (Actually, my main complaint was not the length of the prayers but how unevenly the reading is distributed. Many times I readied myself to recount some plagues with suitable drama but was given only one line! Apparently this is a also common issue for young children.)

The highlight of the evening – apart from the delicious food provided by Randi and Carrie – was the hunt for the Afikoman (a half-piece of matzo bread) which lasted a full 22 minutes before I narrowly clinched victory over Jason. In return, on Sunday I presided over an Easter Egg hunt in our back garden for the rest of our intercultural gang. (Many thanks to my mother for providing authentic British Creme Eggs to use for this.) The team were largely successful although we are still missing one plastic Darth Vader egg filled with sweets somewhere out there. I have alerted the Slack channel for our apartment block.

Passover Seder

Easter Egg Hunt

A montage from our extensive video footage of people looking for things

The Cubs didn’t lose because of a deficit in my support

Inbetween our celebration of rival festivals, this weekend we welcomed Randi’s dad to Chicago and went to Wrigley Field for a Cubs game against the Pirates. The last time I saw these teams play, we watched the Cubs build up an early lead and then narrowly avoid squandering it all by the end. This time, we watched the Cubs build up an early lead and then conclusively squander it in the seventh inning by letting five runs go by. Still, it was an enjoyable and high-scoring game, and I guess I can now cross off “watching the Cubs lose a game at Wrigley Field” from my bucket list.

I can’t believe I’ve let three seasons of Catastrophe go by without mentioning it yet on this blog, but better late than never. Catastrophe is great! Tonight we also concluded the second series of the revamped Robot Wars, which makes me wish I had done better in DT and had the engineering skills to build my own fighting robot. Although it’s worth considering that once the machines achieve sentience and enslave humanity, they are probably going to look very sternly on this programme.

Randi with her dad at the game

This post title is dedicated to Carrie’s performance reading of the blurbs from The Peridale Cafe Mystery series.

Our selfie with Bassem Youssef

Last night we went down to Hyde Park with Jason and Carrie for a screening of Tickling Giants, a documentary about ‘the Jon Stewart of Egypt’, Bassem Youssef, and his satirical TV show Al Bernameg which ran from 2011 to 2014. The comparison with The Daily Show is appropriate because Youssef was openly inspired by Stewart, but also underplays the phenomenon of Al Bernameg which at its height drew an audience of 30 million out of a total Egyptian population of 82 million.

The film runs through the show’s beginnings on YouTube amid the protests which toppled Mubarak, its glory days under the unpopular (though elected) Morsi and then growing intimidation and finally cancellation once General Sisi comes to power.  ‘Cancellation’ is a mild word, but it comes about through protesters outside the studio chanting for Youssef’s death, the arrest of the crew’s family members, the scrambling of the satellite transmission and finally a warrant for the arrest of Youssef himself, who instead flees to the US with his wife and young daughter. And all the while, Youssef and his amazing team of young writers and other crew battle on for their right to satirise the news. When Stewart refers to himself as ‘America’s Bassem Youssef’ towards the end, he’s not really joking.

Youssef himself was at the screening for Q&A, book signing and self-taking opportunities. Unsurprisingly he is intensely charismatic and funny. Oh, and he’s also a surgeon. So if you get a chance, definitely go check out Tickling Giants.

Enjoying the sun with Francisco

La Scarola with Billy and Taylor

Other stuff! After too long a gap we had a reunion with Billy and Taylor at La Scarola, and enjoyed catching up so much that Randi forgot to eat any of her food. We also celebrated Catherine’s birthday with much luxuorious foundue at Geja’s (where no one forgot to eat anything), took advantage of the sunshine while Francisco was in town to wander around Lincoln Park, tricked an unsuspecting group of friends into watching Channel 4’s Naked Attraction (sorry about that) and celebrated heartily on Friday night at Paul Ryan’s big fat healthcare failure. With Indian food, as you do.

Randi and I also decided to expand our pitiful film watching a little. I picked Gladiator because I’d had several “you’ve never seen Gladiator?!” moments recently… and it was fine. An enjoyable 155 minutes, for me at least, although I kept stupidly expecting a scene where everyone would defiantly claim to be Spartacus. Turns out that was in Spartacus. Randi’s choice, Spotlight, was a more unanimous success, although it must be said that the more sobering part of watching a film about brave investigative journalists expose the cover-up of child abuse within the Catholic Church is not the story itself – which I sorta already knew – but the nagging feeling of “wait, who’s paying for investigative journalists anymore?”.

Hamilton

I know you read this blog for its hip cultural commentary, so let me take you to the very cutting edge of 2015 and tell you about this musical Hamilton…

Yes, OK, I’m not breaking new ground here. But after picking up some spare tickets from Jason back in August (thanks!) I finally got to see it for myself tonight, and it was totally worth the wait. It’s enormous fun, full of life and takes aim at (highly overrated) Thomas Jefferson… what more do you want from a night out? I highly recommend extending some Hamilton-style credit to secure a ticket and then passing the following months by reading up on The Federalist before you go. (Or you could just listen to the songs like everyone else does.)

Oh, and George III has great dress sense.

Last Friday night I also saw A Disappearing Number, a play about the (entirely self-taught) Indian mathematician Srinivasa Ramanujan and his collaboration with G.H. Hardy at Cambridge in the 1910s. I haven’t seen such a celebration of pure mathematics since Mr. Bauer jumped on the table of our GCSE class, and it was wonderful. Ramanujan’s most famous equation demonstrates that the infinite sum of 1+2+3… etc. is ‘equal’ to –¹⁄₁₂, and I found this baffling enough to do some extensive research  ask Katie for help. She pointed me to a controversial Numberphile video, and naturally I shared this with Jason and Carrie the next day (poor things had no idea what they were letting themselves in for). Jason took offence at some of the mathematical slights of hand, and before you know it I had to summon Katie onto Skype and hold up bits of paper with equations written out for her to judge.

Katie tries to bring peace

If you’re out there, theatre people, you should feel very proud of the reaction you caused.

Finally, on Saturday night it was a pleasure to watch The Godfather at Todd and Carolyn’s in a much overdue Salon with Robert and Julie plus the much-missed Shelby and Benno. Todd served us up a delicious meal beforehand, as we sat around a proper table drinking proper wine and talking about proper adult things. And while my main memory of The Godfather from six years ago (I checked) is that it’s a bloody long film, Randi and I both enjoyed it much more than we expected this time around, and we’re already agitating for the sequel.

Addendum

Starved Rock

Some late-night blogging was necessary yesterday in order to jot this all down before flying off to <mystery destination> tonight. Unfortunately, this also introduced a few errors. Not only did I misstate the sum of Ramanujan’s infinite series (now corrected) but I also neglected our weekend trip with Randi’s mum to the Starved Rock state park. We stayed overnight at an AirBnB in the ‘city’ of Henry, Illinois… you can tell it’s not a real city because the owner told us that we were free to lock the front door at night if we wanted to, as if it were a foreign superstition she was happy to indulge but didn’t really understand. Oh, and the park was sunny! Sunny and warm and full of people, only a few of whom choosing to play music out loud from speakers as they walked around.

Donald Trump isn’t good for much, but he has undoubtedly improved Second City. It’s been a few years since I last saw a show there (and yes, that’s a strange thing to write) but I went back earlier this month and the whole thing is much tighter, angrier and more coherent than it used to be. I found it funnier as a result, too, though I’m sure it’s more polarising than the grab bag assortment of sketches which it used to be. Randi and I went with Villy (last seen in London) and her mother, both of whom belong to the comforting class of people who understand visa rules and immigration law in casual conversation.

Randi and Villy and books

In the past few weeks I also made two important introductions which have been a long time in the making. Firstly, at long last, Todd has sat down and watched an episode of Doctor Who. In an attempt to appeal to him as a television connoisseur I opted for the very first one, in all of its magnificent black and white glory from 1963. It’s just so good! While at Todd and Carolyn’s I also fulfilled my completionist desire to finish off the Indiana Jones films with Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, even though everyone warned me beforehand that it wasn’t worth it. Everyone was right.

The second introduction needs only this photo:

We finally got Robert to play Carcassonne!

Otherwise I’ve just been catching up on Sherlock with Catherine, booking exciting trips so that future posts can benefit from more interesting photos and celebrating Valentine’s Day at La Scarola, which needs no improvement whatsoever. In a romantic gesture, I muted the ‘glamily’ for the duration of the meal. This is a giant family WhatsApp chat which has also sprung up in recent weeks: 35 somehow-connected cousins around the world draining each others’ battery lives at all hours. It’s great. It’s absurd. This is how cults start. Clearly we need another wedding.