Hold me now It's hard for me to say I'm sorry

Except it really isn't. Or at least, that is the way it seems to me.

In the last few days we've had Cameron and Brown apologising for having their photos taken at the Remembrance Day service. Now, call me stupid, but is that really so bad? Isn't this what happens with politicians? They get photographed at things? Surely there are worse crimes. And we've also had Katie Price apologising to the nation for the way she has been behaving for the past 7 months. I really don't care - it has nothing at all to do with me. Or anyone really, except her immediate family and friends. Why the rest of the nation?

Like when Bill Clinton apologised during the whole Monica Lewinsky scandal. My only problem with the whole thing was that he fibbed, because it was disappointing and gave his detractors even more ammunition against him. I didn't especially care whether he had been unfaithful. As far as I was concerned, it was a matter for him and his wife and perhaps daughter. It made no difference to whether he was a good president or not.

I don't often agree with Ann Widdicome, but at the height of the expenses furore, she summed it up rather aptly as having the potential of turning into a "my shirt is hairier than yours" competition. Spot on. Rather than stop to think about how maybe saying that something is "within the rules" is missing the point somewhat, even if technically true, the obsession seems to be with saying sorry. It's like a competition of who can be the most sorry. "I'm sorry". "No, I'm sorry". "Well, I'm sorrier". "No, sorry, you are wrong, I am the sorry one". It's even worse when you get one person apologising on behalf of hundreds of other people. "We're sorry, we know it is wrong....blah blah blah".

Don't get me wrong. There is a place for a sincere apology. When you've done something wrong, it is only right that you should apologise. But this mania for apologising now, well, it's all getting to be a bit too much and when it happens that often, it can begin to sound , dare I say, ever just a little bit fake. We seem to be a nation hooked on apologising. I find it all just a bit depressing.

Sorry.

So put another dime in the jukebox, baby

God bless the jukebox. I've been fascinated by them since I was a child. And during a summer job working behind a bar, the jukebox kept me sane (well, just about). Standing there choosing the songs is a thrilling experience. I have a very methodical approach to them. I stand there eagerly scrolling through the various pages (are they pages? Well, I think so) to see what is on before making my choices. And I choose all of the songs I want to hear before putting any money in. I've made the elementary mistake before of choosing the first one and then spending the whole of the song stood there choosing the next 4. What a waste! And then there is that awful sinking feeling of whether or not you have entered the numbers correctly...

Perhaps the best thing about them is the fact that you can put on a few guilty pleasure songs - those pop songs that you publicly might disdain, but deep down you love. Or something that you haven't heard for ages. Or, and this might depend upon how much alcohol has been consumed, one that will get you and your friends singing.

However, of late, I've come to the conclusion that jukeboxes and me are not the best of friends. One of my favourite pubs has a fantastic jukebox. It's a bit of a RAWK pub, and the jukebox is pitched accordingly, with more than its fair share of goth too. My last 2 attempts at choosing songs have resulted it them playing 4 out of 5 before I had to leave (and leaving out No-One Knows, in spite of it being the first song I had chosen) and then choosing not to play any of them, but instead play wall to wall Pantera (OK, it was a Saturday night and the place was heaving, but still).

So, fast forward to last Monday. I am in a quiet pub in a smallish village. It's not busy and the barstaff switched on the jukebox just for us. So no-one had got in there before me. I know this. I stand there, going through all the steps as described above. I choose the 5 songs and carefully input the numbers and sit down expectantly. It plays my first choice for sure. And my second. And then that's it. No more. But horror or all horrors, it plays You're Beautiful by James Blunt. "Did you put this on?" asks my friend, jokingly (I assume). Now, I can live with not hearing the rest of my choices. But now everyone in that pub thinks I put on You're Beautiful.

I fear I will never be able to show my face there again.

Everyone just loves you so, well hooray

So, ever since my whole "Knocked Up is the new Point Break" post, I have been thinking about what constitutes a comfort film. Here's a list of some of mine, off the top of my head.

Se7en
The Breakfast Club
Point Break
St Elmo's Fire
Knocked Up
North by Northwest
Streetcar Named Desire
Rope
Grease
Grease 2

I asked one of my friends what hers would be. Among others she said:

Dirty Dancing
A Knight's Tale
Point Break
Robin Hood

For me, they aren't merely films that I have on in the background, because I pay attention when my comfort films are on. And neither are they "feel-good" films. Hardly any of the films on this list would qualify for that description, especially not Se7en. Yet it truly is one of my comfort films. Some of them make me laugh (notice that none of them make me cry - I don't see the point in repeatedly viewing sad films. I've seen Casablanca once - I loved it, but I made me cry and so I never want to see it again. And don't get me started on Il Postino.)

But I digress. You can't even really say that they are all "good" films or particularly well acted. Much as I love it, I would be hard pushed to really make a case for Grease 2 being a good film. And it's not even like I have a crush on someone in all of the films (honestly, this is true). Most of them I can pretty much quote from, or I at least know exactly what is coming next. They are all from different times in my life, at least in terms of when I first saw them.

So what makes these films that I love to watch on a Saturday afternoon, when I can close the door on the world, when the rain is falling, yet I am all cosy and comfortable inside? Is it nothing more than there is something in them which has me hooked and I just really enjoy them?

I'm not entirely sure.

The times they are a-changing

I think that Knocked Up may be my new Point Break. It has taken over as my comfort movie, the thing I like to put on when I want to hide away from the outside world. I'm never not in the mood to watch it. It's hilarious, has Paul Rudd and Jason Segel in it; Seth Rogen is kind of adorable in it. And the extras on the DVD are really worth watching. It's not just your usual deleted scenes nonsense (although these are really funny). The whole mockumenatary on casting the male lead is genius.

Move over Point Break - you have some competition.

Just one psychological drama after another

It was my friend's birthday last weekend, and as he is over here for 2 months before returning to Crete to live, I wanted to give him a present that he wouldn't have to lug back out there. So, since we are both huge Agatha Christie fans and the play And Then There Were None was fortuitously playing at a theatre near us, I thought "A-theatring we will go".

This isn't really a review - well, OK, a little bit. After a slightly ropey start with a bit of overacting, it was well done and entertaining, with a deliciously 1930s set.

But, that's not really the point of this. As I was watching, it got me thinking "why are we all here". Not in an existential sense, but rather what possesses people to pay out money to sit and watch other people pretending to be yet other people; and in my case, I've read the book and seen the play, so it is not as if I was going to be wondering whodunit. It seems to me to be a singularly strange thing to do, yet it is something that I enjoy and when I do go I wish I did more often. Is it just simply that we want to be entertained? Maybe. I'm not really sure what the answer is.

Come come drink some port wine with me

My friend Paul enjoys drinking in a nice pub. But he has rules about where he will drink.

1. He won't drink in any pub called The Red Lion.
2. He won't drink in any pub that is painted yellow.
3. He won't drink in any pub that has a flat roof and looks like a 1970s community centre.

My thoughts?

1. I think he is being a little harsh here. I'm not sure that I have ever actually drunk in a pub called the Red Lion, in spite of it being the second (at least according to Wikipedia) most common pub name in the UK. I'm not really sure what his objection is here. But I bet a nice pint of Waggledance on a hot day would make him break his rule.

2. I am with him all the way on this one. Yellow pubs just seem wrong.

3. Absolutely agree. When I was a student, our local pub looked just like this. Did we ever enter? No chance. It looked scary enough from the outside and looked about as local as a pub could be. There is something about pubs like this which don't exactly make you feel like venturing in.

When he told me about his rules, it made me realise that I don't really have any of my own. There are things that you look for - good jukebox, decent selection of beers, staff who can manage to work out who has been standing at the bar for a while rather than serve the next pretty girl (if they are male) or pretty boy (if they are female). But I am not sure I have anything hard and fast enough to make me not go into a pub.

Unlike Paul.

My favourite pub in the world (at least so far visited) is the Usige Beatha on Woodlands Road, in Glasgow (see photo). It's lovely and welcoming and just a really nice place to drink. It isn't called the Red Lion and it doesn't look like a 1970s community centre. Neither is it painted yellow, although it does appear to be a little bit beige. I think Paul would like it fine.

You Should Be Dancin', Yeah

Sometimes you see some things that just make you smile. Simple, unsophisticated, heartwarming things that just make you feel good about being alive. Last week while going back to work after lunch, I walked by the local school in the afternoon sunshine, and saw the schoolkids dancing round a maypole. There was something so wholesome and quintessentially English about it - no technology, nothing fancy, just something old-fashioned that the kids had learned. And what's more, they seemed to be loving it, as were all the parents watching.

It put me in a good mood for the rest of the day.