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Tag: hellraiser

January 14

In a break from normal Saturday tradition I get up early and write, finishing off the third draft of the haunted carousel story–it’s not yet finished, but it’s getting much closer to a state of me being mostly happy with it.

I dither for the rest of the morning, resulting in me not being remotely ready to accompany Rach into town for a cut-price ear piercing (her ear, not mine). This proves fortuitous as the salon is hideously overbooked and she ends up spending the rest of the morning in the city. I, alternatively, watch Gremlins 2 with the kids. It remains a perplexing film: perfectly enjoyable, but such a tonal contrast with the first film that it’s amazing the same people were behind it.

Rach and the Elderbeast head off to the cricket later in the afternoon. The Kinderbeast and I watch The Little Mermaid and then Toy Story 2, interrupted occasionally by some card games.

Having deprived myself of wine the night before (see: being sick) I have a couple of glasses once the Kinderbeast has retired (Ingoldby Shiraz Grenache – much better than the $10 price tag suggests) and attack some blue cheese too for good measure.

For my evening’s entertainment I have already determined to watch one of the later Hellraiser sequels (having just finished Paul Kane’s book all about the Hellraiser series). I settle on Hellraiser: Hellseeker (which sounds like it should be an AC/DC album by rights). This choice is mostly determined by the return of Kirsty Cotton, which at least gives the entry some sense of continuity. The marginally positive reviews also offer a compelling reason to indulge my apathy and avoid the effort of making any other decision.

In the end the film is reasonable. Reasonably well made, reasonably well acted, and tells a reasonable story. There is little to damn it with, but little to suggest non-Hellraiser fans should go out of their way. Ironic, given this entry started life as a non-Hellraiser script.

I try to stay awake until the other half of the family return, but eventually have to accept defeat.

January 13

I wake up reasonably certain that I am sick. As the morning progresses I become increasingly certain that I am sick, to the point that I decide to skip my 2pm meeting in the city. I could probably manage it, but I’m loathe to make anyone else sick, and equally loathe to make anyone else sit in the company of my hacking cough for the rest of the day.

I retreat to my bed for the afternoon and finish reading Paul Kane’s book about the Hellraiser movies. I come away from the experience with a–probably–unhealthy desire to watch some of the higher-numbered instalments.

Our friend Seb is unable to attend Fridate; it is definitely the week for being sick. The Kinderbeast settles unusually early and the rest of us continue our Sherlock odyssey. Tonight it’s The Sign of Three (a.k.a the wedding episode). I remember it fondly from my first viewing, but it’s probably even funnier than I remembered. The two stars’ drunk acting is so effective that the Elderbeast declares that he feels drunk just from watching it (he has, of course, never actually been drunk – those joys are yet to come).

We cap off with an episode of Blackadder, specifically Ink & Incapability from Blackadder The Third. I realise that I have neglected to introduce the Elderbeast to Blackadder until now and am delighted when he immediately declares: “I should watch more Blackadder!”

January 1

Malcolm Turnbull starts the year by trying to keep us all more afraid of terrorists than the extreme right w(h)ingers in his own party. Trump sends much love to the ‘losers’ an continues to demonstrate how someone with the emotional maturity of a fish egg can continue to be a complete loss even when they’re set to become the most powerful man on the planet.

Rach and Carter (the Elderbeast) head off to the cricket early in the afternoon (not returning until past midnight). The Kinderbeast and I entertain ourselves as best we can, in large part by playing the Mars Rover game given to him by Hedgie for Christmas. We attempt to watch Beauty & The Beast (which I have this far failed to see) but it does little to capture the Kinderbeast’s attention. We dine on pasta and a homemade cheese sauce, of which I am inordinately proud (especially as it gets a literal thumbs up from the Kinderbeast).

Settling the Kinderbeast proves a struggle, but he finally relents at around 9pm. With the house to myself I make use of the last precious hours of solitude by watching Hellraiser Bloodlines: The Restored Director’s Cut (which isn’t restored in the conventional sense – someone has merely taken clips of a diabolically rough VHS workprint and edited them into footage from the finished film). It proves another exercise in Hollywood squandering the potential of a decent concept, but also revives my occasional interest in the Hellraiser franchise.

I go to bed and read the Lovecraft graphic novel that Hedgie has lent me, and idly wonder whether there are any stories about the old gods in me.

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