Illness

I hate being ill. I really, really hate it. I'm one of these people that is ridiculously impervious to most illnesses, I can count the amount of sick-days from work I've had on the fingers of one slightly mutilated hand, so when I actually get one, I tend to flip out and act ridiculously badly and go on and on about it. So, for those of you who don't want to hear the details, skip to the film review. Not that that will be any less full of crap.

Day 1: Tuesday.

So I wake up with, for no reason, a BANGING HEADACHE. It literally felt like I'd rented out part of my skull to a particularly rattly anvil. I struggled through watching television or getting on with any work. Spent most of the day trying to nap, so that I wouldn't really notice it. Also, my appetite was quite reduced, I really didn't feel like food.

Day 2: Wednesday.

Woke up properly to find that my headache was only at about half what it was the previous day. So I stumbled out to Asda in order to buy food I reckoned I would want and paracetamol. Paracetamol went down well, but as soon as I'd had half a sandwich I started to feel kinda funny, so I got up and managed to get to the bathroom in time. Oh Gods. Oh Gods, the runs.

Day 3: Thursday.

So... this day passed in a blur of my bedroom walls, not eating at all, scampering to the bathroom every half hour and having the equivalent of a leaky tap instead of my arse. Great way to spend the last week of my Easter Holiday.

Day 4: Friday.

Moina called on friday, wanting to see if I wanted to hang out. I said that I should, just so that I could get out of the house. Then I realised my keys were gone. I searched, searched, searched and wound myself up looking for them, but they were gone completely. No leaving for me, it would seem. I eventually made it out and to the pub, but I couldn't even eat half my meal and I had to visit the lav three times while there. To make things worse, there were Christians EVERYWHERE. Apparently it was Good Friday or something. I challenge anyone to still call it 'Good' Friday when they've had what I had that day. Moina gave me some immodium, thank Christ.

Day 5: Saturday.

So, still not really eating, having to throw bread away, still sleeping for about 70% of the day, beginning to wonder if this immodium is even working through the amount of toilet paper I was going through.

Eventually, I managed to drag myself round to Coates' place, in order to watch the first episode of the new season of Doctor Who, which I shall discuss in my other blog. I had pizza. Oh, oh I'd forgotten what food was!

Day 6: Sunday.

I don't think I went to the bathroom the whole day. My lower intestine was feeling very, very weird, like there was a massive stone there in place of an organ, but hell, it was better than crapping brown water.

Day 7: Monday.

I think... I think I'm okay. Took my first proper bowel movement in quite some time. Oh thank Christ for that... now I get to hang out with people again, and tell them ALL ABOUT IT! Oh, how they're going to love me...

SOURCE CODE.

Well... this film wasn't up to much. There weren't many expectations on my end for this movie, it reminded me far too much of Quantum Leap and Seven Days, without actually managing to capture the charm and intrigue of either of these kooky sci-fi series. While the basis for the film works pretty well (Army Corporal gets zapped into the body of a man on a train that's about to explode, he has about eight minutes to figure out who the bomber is), the execution is what makes me hesitate about this.

The film can't really decide if it wants to be a fast-paced action film or a thoughtful science fiction film, skipping between frantically trying to find a bomb on a train and putting pieces of the puzzle together, or the moral weight of using a dead man against his will to find the answers to a situation that only he can access. It's all very soft science and weird reality bending that doesn't make any sense, the only truly great bit of the movie is the tightness of the skirt on Vera Farmiga.

In truth, I expected a great deal more from Duncan Jones than this rather messy, knuckle-dragging 'thriller' that doesn't amount to anything more than a tribute to a much better television show from the 70's

Next up: Killing Bono.