(This is the most appropriate icon I have, for the moment.)
Today we traversed into Birmingham to go to Beatties to get some knitting pins. We had lunch in the Victorian Restaurant (in the Western Arcade, near Coffee Republic at the back of Rackhams) which was quite pleasant, and experienced the following random amusement: a woman and her mother (presumably) sat at the table near ours just before we left. She perused the menu for a bit, then sent the waitress away to enquire about something I didn't quite hear; on her return, she ordered, as follows:
"Right, I'll have the beans on toast, please. With cheese on top, if possible, but it doesn't matter if not. And can you make sure the beans are well done, please?"
Firstly: who the Hell goes to a restaurant and asks for
beans on toast? And secondly: "well done"? How can you even
tell?
In other news, Shelleys has relocated to above Barratts on New Street, and, quite frankly, they should've stayed where they were. There's about a quarter of the stock they had before, and none of the interesting/insane drag queen shoes that used to line the shelves. It's too bright, there's only one floor, they've only got brand new stock, and they've ruined my favourite shoe shop. Bastards. Luckily, a discount shoe store has taken up residence in Shelleys' old building, and seems to be selling off all of their old stock, so I'll go there instead.
We also investigated Selfridges for the first time, which was an experience I could happily have lived without. Upon finally gaining entry (dude, seriously, make the doors more obvious) we were assaulted by the smell of coffee, which shortly turned into the smell of hot fat from the sushi bar. The eat-while-you-shop theory is all well and good, but possibly works better in an open space. Ugh. Besides which, the music was annoying and loud, and everything was way out of my price range (though they did have some rather cute Ruby Gloom tops), and the ten minutes we spent in there were ten minutes I would rather have spent, oh,
breathing. The Armadillo will not claim another victim in me, no sirree.
And then we went down to UGC to see
Finding Neverland, at long last. I'm sure I spotted
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shoeboxgirly on the way in, incidentally... Review/thoughts follow; possible spoilers.
( Finding Neverland; or, Why I Don't Do Sad Movies In Cinemas. ) Next on my list is
Birth or
Ladies in Lavendar, and the new adaptation of
The Merchant of Venice looks quite good, as does
The Forgotten, with Juliana Moore.
Go and see
Finding Neverland, people. You won't be disappointed. Johnny Depp
so deserves a Best Actor Oscar for that performance, and if he doesn't get one, I'm going to be very annoyed. Kate Winslet probably won't even be nominated for Best Actress, though, as her performance was good, just not outstanding.
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