Bonjour! Special hello to my US readers (if the stats are to be believed). Well done if I may say so, for getting in on the ground floor.

Something amazing happened yesterday – my kids and I went to see a film that I had chosen; it rarely happens that I manage to organize anything, so the fact that we got there in good time, and yes the cinema was open, was a promising sign.

First to rewind a bit, we needed sugar. My daughter and I went to the nearby supermarché and chose three bags of sweets  – four, if you count the Twix – (little product placement there).
I insisted on a packet of Mi-Choco; these are chewy caramels covered/enrobé with dark chocolate – the only hitch being they come in really noisy wrappers – something my sensitive daughter pointed out. She was going to put them back on the shelf, but we decided to unwrap them beforehand, which she did in the back of the car on the way to the cinema. Then all we had to do was make sure we got the timing right when we took the lid off the plastic box  – I’m trying to avoid saying Tupperware. She was very good at picking the right moments in the film – I wasn’t.

The film was Jersey Boys, directed by Clint Eastwood – if you haven’t already seen it, you should – unless you loathe musicals; though really this is a biography with music, and not an in-your-face musical like that Abba one, where every other line is turned in to a song.

It’s about how the Four Seasons band was formed in the 60’s – it was great – couldn’t fault it, except maybe the make-up when the group was meant to have aged was a bit dodgy – too much talc and eye-liner. The acting was good  though, and there was a nice lack of violence, though plenty of underlying threat, and mob references – and everyone seemingly watching out for each other, while nicking the other guy’s girlfriend, or mishandling the group’s finances.

The cinema was in a municipal hall, and I was surprised to hear so many French people in the audience – yes, we’re in France but it is an English-speaking film. At the end a couple of people clapped, and then a couple of people sniggered, because you don’t clap after films, I suppose. I felt like clapping too; this got me thinking; how does Clint know that his movie has been shown and enjoyed in a little village in the South of France? Or would he even care? The film got a Tony (good mafia name) award – thank you, wikipedia.

Watch this space for more meaningful monologues..