Author: Seb Palmer

Today we visited Bodiam Castle. Fortunately it’s NT. After we parked up we went in the wrong way! But that afforded some nice views!

It’s an amazing place. And we had a great time.

As we rounded the northern face, we came to where the modern day access is – originally it was accessed via an L-shaped arrangement – over the moat. Very picturesque!

Back in the day, the folks who lived here had all their many toilets empty into the moat. Eugh! So fish were kept on a separate pond. That’s no longer the case, thankfully! And now there are fish aplenty in the water around the castle.

After the guardroom it was onwards and upwards… to the northern tower. Wow! So high. I got the ol’ vertigo!

The view atop the tower was breathtaking. And looking down, and around, was amazing.

So, back down, to Teresa. She didn’t want to go to the top!

After the vertiginous ascent and descent, it was back around at ground level. We even took an informative half-hour tour

Having been up the main or North tower, I wanted to also go up the Postern or rear tower. Teresa was having none of either, alas!

And finally, taking leave of Bodium…

The Barbican, that once stood on the bend or ‘knee’ of the olde approach, is reduced to this mere pillar.

Got up about 9 am. Had breakfast on the sun drenched balcony. Lovely!

Our hosts very kindly provide a snippet of the Bayeaux Tapestry, rendering a trip to France unnecessary.

They also have some local history stuff, including the aulde ‘classic’ (?) 1066 & All That…

We arrived about 4 pm, after a straightforward journey, of about three and a half hours.

It’s a very beautiful property, in a splendid hilltop location. Opposite it’s own ‘private’ gardens (now a public park).

Teresa’s knocked out by the place. Which is fab. It is indeed terrific. And boy do we need this holiday! It’s the first longer break – still only five nights – we’ve had since 2019. At least three post-Covid breaks we booked had to be cancelled, due to lack of funds.

We visited a very cool arty bookshop – Black Gull Books – nearby. Teresa stocked up on provisions, in a Sainsburys Local (that trip gave us a proper view of the seafront). Back ‘home’, Teresa cooked a fab pasta dinner, with a lovely salad. We watched some silly TV (Richard Osman’s Trousers of Ferrets), turned in, read a bit, and fell asleep. Lovely!

… actually means halfway through. The final third is supplementary material!

Still really enjoying this book. I’ll be taking it on our holiday, down to the South Coast, tomorrow.

A great Hitchcock potboiler. Ray Milland is terrific as the unctuously smooth villain Tony Wenders. And Grace Kelly is radiantly beautiful as his wife, Margot, aka the gal in danger.

It’s not one of Hitch’s absolute best. Nor, by a long stretch, one of his weaker as films. Beautifully crafted, and well acted, within the standards of its milieu. It’s just good Saturday or Sunday afternoon/evening fun.

The title is somewhat ironic. Whilst it captures the premise. The plot or premise concocted by Tony has more holes in it than fishnet stockings. Unravelling like a garter whose elastic has gone.

Unlike many Hitchcock (or other crime/murder) movies, the McGuffinal motive murder doesn’t actually happen. In that respect it’s a clever little twist, akin in some ways to how Columbo’s crimes are solved, from the viewer’s perspective, in reverse.

The fascination humans have with the nexus between sex and violence, themes fundamental in Hitchcock’s oeuvre, is cleverly played upon by the publicity materials.

Posters for the film show the attempted murder looking like sex. The man mounts the lady, and she, head back and arm outstretched, might be in the throes of orgasm… le petits morts.

The old big black Bakelite phone – which takes the place of the scissors – is obviously important. And there are some funny special effects in connection with this.

The ‘Columbo connection’ goes deeper… moustachioed detective inspector Herbert pauses at the door, and says ‘there was just one more thing…’

And the ending is sooo Columbo. They won’t get their man unless he indicts himself. Hoist by his own petard.

The quality of Hitchcock’s work is, for the most part, uniformly high. So, whilst he’s made even better films, this remains excellent.

Teresa ordered some fake roses, that also have LED lights in them, to display over the mirror. They arrived today. We’re very happy with them.

I diagnosed the toilet issue; the plastic connector piston in the syphon broke, where the metal that hooked into it, connected to the handle.

It’s broken in such a way that the piston has dropped down, inside the body of the syphon, and can’t be retrieved. Gaah!

And this bog has many other issues. One of these was this:

So I fixed it:

The new pipe fits much better. I re-used the old bend-couplings. It seems ok? It’s not leaking as it did before.

But the main issue – the cistern isn’t working – remains unresolved. At least we can flush using a bucket of water. So the bog is usable. Albeit in a labour intensive and annoyingly primitive manner.

Bugger-balls…

Chester came in bleeding profusely yesterday. And it was a devil of a job cleaning him up and keeping him in. Repeated attempts to put a plaster or bandage on him came to nothing.

I phoned an out of hours emergency vet, as our usual vet was closed. They wanted £300. Not possible! Anyways, we shaved and repeatedly cleaned his wound. And it seems to be healing.

We also gave him some calming pain killer type medication.

Not what you want just before you leave for a weeks holiday. The first ‘proper’ holiday in, oh… at least five, poss more, years?

And then our friend and current house guest breaks our toilets flush mechanism. It was damaged already. But it could be made to work with the right technique. Alas, heavy-handed Pat’ has now broken it completely. It can no longer be bodged, as before.

Really we need a completely new toilet. As the old’un is shite, and has numerous issues, beyond the formerly dodgy but now totally buggered flush.

In the meantime, to flush the loo we must fill a bucket with water, and ‘manually’ flush the system.

I have neither the time, money or patience/inclination to fix the toilet today, Sunday. The final day at home before we go away on holiday tomorrow.

Our departure tomorrow is already going to be pushed back a bit, by a visit to the vet, to get Chester’s wound checked. Teresa’ll have to cover that, methinks. As I’m in dire straits – and I ain’t Mark Knopfler – financially (as usual).

Not what one needs or wants on the eve of a much-needed holiday.

Excellent stuff. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore. More’s the pity… I’ve watched this a number of times over the years. And it’s never disappointed.

It starts with an interesting set up scene, in which two of our erstwhile Seven meet, battling racism in a rough Western town. This immediately sets up our gunslingers as noble warriors. As opposed to the rather more tawdry outlaws that history so often reveals, lurking behind the mythical glamour of the Western genre.

And of course this is rightly so. As this is a remake of Akira Kirusawa’s Seven Samurai, transplanted to the Ol’ West (or South-West?).

The star studded ensemble cast is great. Delivering in spades. And what’s really good is that, with Yul and Steve as a binary focal point, the other guys don’t crash their egos all over the screen. But, rather like the mythically super-cool cats they play, slouch into their roles with a studied but light touch.

Even the supporting cast are very strong. From Henry, the decent guy corset salesman at the top of the film, to the poor farmers, such as Hilario, who enlist the aid of our seven pistol-totin’ heroes

There’s no point synopsising the very basic plot, which is very much based on the Seven Samurai original.

What is interesting is that this American Western version, going rather against the stereotypes, is not only in colour, not black and white, but even adds certain other dimensions to the whole genre piece, that the Japanese original has less of: warmth, humour…

Brynner is excellent in the slightly odd and potentially rather awkward role of moralist and philosopher gunfighter. And he has a suitably daft name/origin… O’Reilly, the Cajun. Say, wha’?

But he looks great. As do all our very macho heroes. In their different ways. Brynner’s compact dark clad figure contrasts strongly with the lean, rangy tan-clad James Coburn’s knife-wielding Britt.

And the slightly disheveled youthful earnestness and idealism of Chico (Horst Bucholz) contrasts nicely with the jaded world-weary nihilism of Robert Vaughan’s Lee.

The landscapes/settings deserve their own billing. As does the music. And perhaps even the direction? It’s all consummately well done. Well shot, in stunning locations. Well directed and acted. Well conceived. So many things that so many modern remakes – I haven’t seen the modern remake of this film (and I don’t feel very inclined to do so) – get wrong, this gets right.

Charmingly and disarmingly so. And that’s despite it ageing. It’s 64 years old now!