a rare personal post

Céline and I went to Chelsea cinema to see ‘The Aviator.’ Quite good, yet in the end a fairly standard fantasy-laced biopic. The New Yorker called it a pop ‘Citizen Kane,’ and there were nods to that film, not least in Leonardo DeCaprio pointedly resembling a young Orson Welles. Cate Blanchett did the best that an actress could do playing Katherine Hepburn, and breezily swept the film away with her, the way Ms Hepburn might once have.

That evening, we ate at the Magill Estate restaurant. We won’t be back there for a while. It was good, but not surprisingly good, not interestingly good. We imagined that the management felt their high prices justified by the view of the vines and city lights (they made a ponderous show of raising the electric blinds after sunset, but we have a better view from our driveway), the twittering service [you were very good, girls and boy] and the toilets’ mirrored vistas. Not enough.

The modern palate hasn’t been coarsened by the influx of Asian food and spices over the years enough not to notice when food doesn’t have any noteworthy flavour.

I decided that 47 was not a big landmark. The larger ‘milestone’ will be turning 47½ in six months. On 17 August 2005, I leave my mid forties and enter my late forties.