and all of the squats have been turned into gallery spaces

Morniiiing! A belated happy valentines day to you all. I spent mine drinking suspiciously blue alcohol with my single girls and sneezing my way through a cold. But I'm not one of those people who is all bitter when theyre single on valentines, I'm just happy for my friends who are in happy relationships and optomistic about the future. In the immortal words of Emma Thompson, "nobodys going to want to shag you if you're crying all the time" (Love Actually).

This post is actually supposed to be about Brighton Rock, which me and some lovely coursemates took a wander to the cinema to see at the weekend. We'd had a seminar about the original book, and the lecturer was dubious about them moving the setting to the mods/rockers of the sixties.

I'm going to come out and admit to the horror of all booklovers that I have not read the book (though a copy is winging its way to me as we speak!) and so knew nothing about it. I am also a massive fan of anything modtastic. And I really liked this film. I think my companions were a little less convinced, and I'm not about to start calling it my new favorite film or anything, but visually it worked and the plot was full of enough intense staring and brooding threat to make you gasp quit a bit. 
Not a patch on Mr Nice, though, which I rented off itunes the other day to rid me of a hangover. Rhys Ifans cures all ills.
(I want to post a picture, but I can't find one which does it justice, so there may have to be another post soon...)


I fail quite a bit at the old 60s style, though I am becoming a fan of the beehive. Somebody buy me this?
Thanks. Oh and look at Greer's room, jeal? I am.


Right, I must be off as I have promised the flatmates bacon sarnies, and promises involving bacon are meant to kept, yeh?
xx


ps. how beautifully did Adele sing at the Brits last night? Hello broken heart.