Old years, new year

First Dodo and Son (hmm, good company name…) spent hours watching the extra features on Harry Potter, while making witty comments. Then they ruined my childhood. We ate the usual Indian food. Once the forgotten Daughter had been collected from her nerds’ party, we went to bed and then we woke up and ‘went’ to the New Year’s concert in Vienna. Dispatched Dodo and Son, ate again and watched Sherlock.

I never cease to marvel over the fact that the next generation willingly opt to spend New Year’s Eve with us doddery types, eating the Resident IT Consultant’s Indian cooking. It was good this year. Recently we have had time issues, but he diligently slaved over a hot stove for days (with me trailing behind, wiping, and filling the dishwasher), so we had plenty to eat.

Son had missed the last Harry Potter, so bought a copy of the DVD for Christmas. After which, the extras were enjoyed by all. It’s his childhood, when all is said and done. Also the childhoods of Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson.

That’s what got me started on mine. I was seven when I went to see Five on a Treasure Island in the cinema. I’ve never forgotten it. It started my reading career, and subsequently lead to everything else I’ve done, including coming to England first on holiday, and then to live here. And they had the nerve to laugh at the film!!!

Even the Resident IT Consultant who hardly ever laughs, was bent over in an uncontrolled fashion, red in the face, tears spurting. It wasn’t that funny! Not even the navy vessel The Gay Viking was all that funny. As I said, that was my childhood memories ruined. I could still feel the magic of that beautiful coastline and the lovely English house and the old ruins. Not to mention the ingots (otherwise known as gold bars).

Anyway, I enjoyed it. And as a punishment the amused chef was sent to pick up Daughter, missing the end…

We slept and we woke and we breakfasted. Lounged with the Wiener Philharmoniker and Mariss Jansons. Have you noticed how conductors often look very conductor-like? I feel there is a special conductor look. Mariss must have worked slow, since we missed all the lovely credits at the end.

Then Daughter packed her bags, and – illogically – Son and Dodo were driven away by the amused chef. We settled down on the sofa with the leftovers and Sherlock, which was as good as ever. I even remembered how the last episode ended. Most unusual. Very good script by Steven Moffat, and let’s hope the howler highlighted by that darling Sam Wollaston in the Guardian wasn’t his doing.

An exciting weekend was had by all.