What is it with women and films? Ok, so that may be a bit of a generalisation but in my life the men chose films whilst the women chose reality tv. Reality - what ever that is meant to be... Before children my wife and I would rent out a film every weekend. It'd be an occasion, an event, accompanied by nibbles and treats - it was something we looked forward to. Since the children have arrived on the scene it's been a different matter. My wife declares that she "doesn't have time" to watch a film, yet would happily sit through three hour long back-to-back episodes of "Extreme Makeover - Home Edition" with the garishly wowser-due Ty Pennington. Go figure.
So it was with total delight and amazement when a month or so ago she asked to watch "The Bourne Identity" and loved it. Now it's a great film so I happily sat and watched it again. What I was amazed about what the fact that she was watching a pursuit film. My wife has a sort of chasing fobia. That is she actually fears being chased so refuses to watch any film where someone is being chased. Well that pretty much wipes out any action film then... But she loved The Bourne Identity so I jumped on the opportunity and suggested a handful of other action films, none which actually lived up to Jason Bourne but hey, it was a step in the right direction.
A week or so ago I'd noticed "The Bourne Supremacy" on tv so quickly recorded it and waited for the right time. On the face of it, last night seemed to be the right time - we'd eaten our dinner with the kids and gotten them into bath and bed at a sensible hour. Then sods law hit - the kids wouldn't sleep and our eldest (Reece) was up and down out of bed for the first hour. "I can't watch the film until I know the kids are asleep" was the response - fair enough I suppose. Then the washing machine decided to break down in the middle of a cycle with a load of the most important clothes inside. Great. So followed a textathon with some neighbourly friends, trying to find a vacant machine to finish our load on. Nothing.
Which brings me on to texting. Why oh why do women feel the need to write war and peace on every text? Last night couldn't be "hi, got an emergency, our washing machine is broke, can I use yours?", oh no, it had to be the very in's and out's of a ducks arse before getting round to asking. And then the reply - again lines and lines of text. When we did finally find a friend who would help Gem asked me if she thought she should use their machine and not just go down the launderette instead. After all, she didn't want to inconvenience them. Oh for fucks sake.
The film was interrupted and subsequently paused for each and every one of these texts but we got there in the end. Next up? Yep I'm a glutton for punishment so I'm now looking out for "The Bourne Ultimatum"