Cinema rules

Well, I'm feeling a lot better. I've been getting work done, and I've been to the movies. I love going to the cinema by myself which is kind of loner-ish, I guess, but it's nice to be able to just sit in the dark with a big box of popcorn and just relax into a great film.

From where I live, I can reach several cinemas within a few minutes. Last night I went to Cineworld. I felt a bit guilty about it because Cineworld is sort of like the MacD's of cinema. It's a big Multiplex at the top of Parnell Street but as soon as you walk through the doors you could be pretty much anywhere in the world. The sound is great, the screens are fantastic, and the popcorn is good and hugely overpriced. There's something vaguely reassuring about the homogeneity of the international cinema experience.

For more arty days, there are two other options nearby. The Irish Film Institute and the Lighthouse Cinema.

The IFI has maybe seen better days but it's got a real arts-student vibe and a nice-enough bar with good coffee and very stoned-looking staff. I like it. The Lighthouse is special and it's very characteristic of, well, Manhattan I should think. It's gorgeous--all white spaces and shininess and Beautiful People having fancy cake in the chilly cafe upstairs.

All this waffling about cinema brings me to the real topic of this post: I met a boy! I went to the Ilac Library and found him lurking around the Internet area. One thing led to another (OK, I went up and started talking to him and we were asked to leave because we were being too noisy) and we ended up having some truly dreadful coffee at this grotty place in the Centre.

He's French, all sallow skinned and well-dressed and looks like he should have a Gauloise between those artist's fingers. I summoned my courage and invited him to the movies and we're going tomorrow as soon as I've decided what to see. Liberated me, huh? But it's tricky. A stupid film, and he'll think I'm an idiot. Something too arty? I might look pretentious --which I kinda AM but I don't want him to know on the first date.

More on this exciting topic to follow shortly!

Hot soup for the afflicted with cold

I've been kinda sickish for a few days. A bit off-colour. And then this evening, the most surprising thing happened. Bepe came home from work with a pile of groceries from Moore Street and started making soup. Actual soup! From ingredients, not a can!

I've never, ever made soup. I had thought I was too sick too eat but when I smelled the minestrone smells wafting from the kitchen, I started to regret I hadn't asked him to pick up some take-out. And then he appeared with soup. On a tray. (Did we have a tray?) For me.

I was so surprised and touched. Then he said: "You probably wouldn't have got sick if you didn't eat all that unhealthy American rubbish," which sort of spoiled it, but not quite. And the soup was seriously good.

The sweetest thing of all was that he made it for me. There wasn't even any left for him.

I've spent the evening on my own though. Bepe and the girlfriend went to the Ilac Centre to practice their English. (Note to self: Join Ilac Centre library-I've been in there. Free Internet. Fabulous Book Collection. Periodicals. Music. I've got the TCD library for serious books, but this is a really cool inner-city library. Loving it.)

Apparently, the Ilac Centre library offers free language exchange sessions. I might even start going along myself. I could do with widening my social circle and brushing up my French. Like all "Canadians" (I am not a real Canadian, of course, being a Newfoundlander), I learned French at school, but it never really got that far.

Now that I've had something to eat--the first meal but left-over Chinese in two days, I actually feel a heck of a lot better, and determined to get some research done tomorrow without getting sidetracked so I'm off to bed for some beauty sleep. Gotta get me a recipe for that minestrone, though. Magical.