Yar, it be another Talk Like A Pirate Day (well it will be in 45 minutes). Which, of course, means a very minor redesign.

As the lack of posts around here lately probably show, I’ve been very busy for the last few months. It’s been ages since I’ve had both the time and energy to write something worthwhile. The last series (about my hometown) probably wasn’t worthwhile, and I wrote literally months ago for a posting drought like this. Oh well. After going to Edinburgh for most weekends in August (ah, the fringe), the usual bunch of September flatwarmings (spread over no less than 7 cities this year), and various other things during the week (my job being one of them), things seem to be quieting down.

If I say here that I’m going to release my first Greasemonkey script soon and that I’ll finally write up my fourth year project, then I may actually begin work on either. Or then again, it might be another quiet spell. We shall see.

This month’s film fight is another full four-way.

First, we have Tim Burton’s remake of the classic Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Where to start? The vision of Willy Wonka is nowhere near as strong as the original. Where Gene Wilder was a magical, musical, but weary showman, Depp is a slightly disturbed and frightened boy who never really grew up. It seems that the modern take on the story had to include parental issues, rather than just being tired of a world that doesn’t care for the joys in life. It’s still enjoyable, and has some absolutely hilarious moments, it seems a little sad that the point has been missed.

Comedy comes in the form of The Wedding Crashers. A double team of Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson meet a fairly dysfunctional family at a wedding and hilarity ensues (yes, it can be summed up that glibly). It is, however, excellent. So many spot-on comic moments, and so many perfectly played characters, including Christopher Walken’s family figure/senator.

As mindless trashy entertainment, The Island is a strong film. Take it any more seriously than that and it all falls apart, with plotholes everywhere, terrible acting, bad plot devices, terrible direction, stuff that just doesn’t make sense etc.

Finally, in Crash we have manipulative and stereotyped attempt at producing an indie film feel with a bunch of Hollywood A-list actors. While it does ask some interesting questions, it does come off as a bit convenient, rather than clever, that all the characters intersect one another.

The winner this month, then, is Wedding Crashers.

P.S. If this seems a bit rushed, it’s because it was.

P.P.S. I’m probably not going to do a music post for August. In September, buy the new Reuben album. They’re the best British band in decades.

There is a museum in a quiet town, next to which there is a stretch of grass that the Crazy Pigeon Woman frequents. It’s not that she is necessarily crazy (no-one has asked), it’s not that she’s a pigeon (of this we are relatively sure), and the fact that she is a woman has little bearing.

The town has pigeons. Lots of them. Flocks, some might say. One particular flock knows where the sweet spot for bread collecting is: it’s on that spot of grass next to the museum. The Crazy Pigeon Woman arrives every now and then with a bag of bread that she throws to the pigeons. The birds, normally frightened of even the slightest human contact, are drawn to her. They cover her blue anorak like she is a statue, they know she is not a threat.

She has named many of them. A pedestrian walking past will no doubt here her call out to them by name, and one or more will respond. She feeds them, they go back to the flock. Who this women is and why she does this is unknown. That she cares is laudable, that she named them is worrying.

Pigeons, strangely loved in a quiet town.

Despite being a quiet town, there are 4 railway stations within its borders.

The first takes pride of place in the town centre, modernised inside and part of an ongoing regeneration by the local council. It leads to the big city in one direction and to all of the local coastal stops in the other. It is the last switching point between the big city and the diverging coastal areas, meaning trains are in ready supply.

The second was once part of a main line to the rural areas further away from the big city than the quiet town itself. It is now the terminating stop of the line, covering the southern area of the town; an area that, while not deprived, is devoid of anything worthwhile.

The third sits near a grave yard in the hilly area of the quiet town. It’s as dead as the commuters.

The last sits in a wasteland that used to be a sprawling and vibrant community. A decade or so earlier, the area had started falling into disrepute, with mild gang activity and crime not an uncommon sight. Housing redevelopment was supposed to fix the problem. The people moved out, the old tenement houses came down, and the area has lain in rubble ever since. A desolate area.

Train stations: a metaphor for a quiet town.

There is a lamp post in the West End of a quiet town. It holds a sign carrying directions to an even quieter town nearby, but that is irrelevant. What is relevant is March.

Every March, inexplicably, something happens to that lamp post, something rather strange. You see, for several years now at the same time of year, a rather nice piece of steak is tied around the lamp post (using no tape or string, just the meat itself). It hangs there, rotting after a few days, yet giving out no smell, until it wastes away so much it falls to the pavement.

No-one knows who does it or why. Meat can be strange in a quiet town.