And on the fifth day...

After a long and not terribly productive week, I thought a civilised dinner out might be in order: had we stayed in we would have grouched at each other, and I didn't want to do that. We ended up in Euphrates, eating meze (very good, though the whitebait was a mistake) and drinking Lebanese Arak (very good full stop), and discussing... abortion. How cheerful. But civilised in its way: we'd both (separately) listened to this week's Moral Maze, scheduled to mark the 40th anniversary of the 1967 Abortion Act (definitely worth a listen, incidentally: if only all discussion on the subject were so reasoned) and we both wanted to talk about it.

I still don't think we agree, though it's detail we disagree on (when and how), not fundamentals (whether), so I can live with that. And debate is healthy: if you don't get the odd brickbat thrown at your views from time to time you can't decide if they still stand up or not.

We stopped in at Videosyncratic to borrow The History Boys, then wandered back. By the time we neared home I was trying unsuccessfully to explain why, with the honourable exception of Closer to Fine, I can't bear the Indigo Girls. I *ought* to like them, I was saying, but it's just one minority cause too many. Environmentally aware lesbian folk songs about Native Americans, I can't do it. Please don't bury my heart at wounded knee! Bury it somewhere else! Well, said M, strictly speaking that's a Buffy Sainte Marie song.

She's even worse, I said. I hear a Buffy Sainte Marie album and I want to put on Led Zeppelin and eat liver! Add anal sex to that list, said M, and I'll buy you a copy. You're all heart, I said, and marched up the front path.

The film was fantastic, though I don't for a moment believe 18 year old boys from Yorkshire would ever be that comfortable with themselves, not even the cleverest ones in the school, not even in 1983. But it was very touching, very interesting and very, very funny.

Mrs. Lintott: And you, Rudge? How do you define history?  
Rudge: Can I speak freely without being hit?  
Mrs. Lintott: You have my protection.  
Rudge: How do I define history? Well it's just one fucking thing after another, isn't it?

Isn't it just.

joella