I don't think I've ever been to the pictures at 11am on a Saturday since removing myself from covering the legs in short trousers. But this morning battling through gale and pestilence, we alighted at the Wells cinematic emporium to see The Favourite, hot chocolate and flapjack to hand and seated by 10.45. What an astonishing film this is outlining the amore tibus of Queen Anne, Lady Marlborough, and Abigail Hill, the favourite of the story. Lots of naughty bits, and very rude words but a tour-d-force recreating the absolutely decadent and debauched lifestyle of the aristocracy in the Reformation era. Along with the stifling sadness of being a queen. Everybody feints love, nobody actually gives it unless there's a reward. It was a wonderful film, maybe not to everyone's liking, historically dubious too. But a cracking 2 hours in a dark Somerset cinema. That done, it was lunchtime. The favourite bolt hole, the Good Earth was more rammed than a Restoration gentleman caller at the shop of knocking. To the Pickwick then where a very nice gentleman waiter took a shine to me as he effusively guided us to our table, touching me all the way. I know what you're thinking, it's my adonis looks and catwalk perfect waggle that appeals to the young gentleman waiter. Last time that happened I was in Bath with Julie, buying some smelly stuff, perfume I think it's called. Honestly, I'm a married man and wear baggy trousers and never wash my knees!
Lunch pushed over the threshold, a wander in the lovely city of Wells followed, bumping into the Swiftlets of Cheddar, before yet another craving for sustenance overcame us in the now empty Good Earth. Gluten free carob flapjack if anyone's making notes. And a nice cup of tea.
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