Abnormal Service Resumed

We've been in hibernation over the summer, away, various family things (including a great joint fiftieth birthday party in a cowshed in Sweden - not ours, unfortunately) and, most relevantly, finishing off the second Frieda Klein. And now it is, more or less, finished.

A few good things from the summer: John Grant and Midlake at the Royal Festival Hall (we need new albums from both asap); the TV thriller series, Justified, is one of the best attempts at getting the world of Elmore Leonard on screen; series one was good, so far series two is even better. 

Not so good things: we finally got around to seeing Shutter Island. Has ever so much talent been marshalled to such little effect? (Worse still, someone told me that I (Sean, that is, not Nicci) look like Jackie Earle Haley. Please.) And we watched Hanna because someone told us that Hanna was really good. They were wrong. Saoirse Ronan is fabulous. But rule number one of thrillers is: if in every single scene the viewer/reader is saying, 'why are they doing that?' or 'surely they wouldn't do that?' or 'that doesn't make any sense', then you're in troubles. Well, it's not actually rule number one, because it's a bit convoluted, but you get the point.

It also features that most shameful narrative cop-out, the navigable air duct.