what's not to like?

 

I watched Toast  when it was on at Christmas and although I relished the sets, vintage props and magnificent food, I didn't relish some of the dialogue.  As with many current dramas set in an earlier decade, there are some horribly anachronistic turns of phrase (Downton Abbey has quite a few and even Mad Men does not manage to excise them all). The worst in Toast was 'what's not to like?', something that was never said in the sixties, and even now sounds wrong. But it got me thinking about what's not to like this week (even when I type it I stop to consider the clunking awfulness of the phrase) so here we are, my answer to the question:

:: The King's Speech. It's marvellous, utterly absorbing and has many meesmeringly good performances. There are also some quite amazing wallpapers,windows, and beautifully composed shots. (The thing that may not be to like about it is summed up here.)

:: Helena Bonham Carter. She is fantastically vulgar in Toast and fantastically regal in The King's Speech. Absolutely nothing not to like about her. And she has a craft room at home which makes her a real star in my eyes.

:: Working with green. Shades of emerald, chatreuse, lime, moss, leaf and grass, all looking fresh and clean and bright.

:: Emerging greenness in the garden. There are a few green tips of tulips, narcissi and iris appearing in the bare earth. Very exciting.

:: Blogs with garden-related titles. I don't read masses of blogs, but I do like Charlotte's Plot which is always down to earth (ha ha), thoughtful and interesting. And The Quince Tree, which is energetic, wry and multi-faceted. Charlotte and Sue are worth visiting.

:: Radio. Ed Reardon, the consummate curmudgeon, is back  and is so grumpy and penny-pinching it's laugh out loud stuff. LOL. (Seriously nothing to like about that abbreviation.) 

:: A Crisis of Brilliance by David Haycock. Although I've read biographies and books about many of the artists and personalities who appear in this book (eg Stanley Spencer, Carrington, Christopher Wood, Roger Fry, Mark Gertler, Augustus John), I find there's still plenty more to be said about them. David Haycock writes clearly, fluently and engagingly about a highly influential and often quite unbalanced group of artists.  And there is always something to like when the defiantly odd Stanley Spencer is around, and he emerges from these pages as, yet again, quite unique.

:: The weekend. There's not much not to like about it.

And now I need never write or say those words again.