The Pirates! In an adventure with scientists!

The latest Aardman spectacular is another fun filled film for all ages. Here we have a band of misfit pirates having adventures on the high seas. Like their previous productions this is a very British film and you can't get much more British than Queen Victoria, even if she is the baddy.
     There's the usual slapstick and hilarous gags, plus a fair amount of micky take (of other movies, of pirates, of history, science and a good many other things). But something's missing.
     The story just seemed to drag a little. The jokes were funny but not top quality, and the film just need that final punch to make it a masterpiece. I have to say it sadly falls just short of Chicken Run, Flushed Away and Wallace and Gromitt. The movie is short (less than 90 minutes) but many of the characters seem underdeveloped (especially the other Pirates) and the monkey needed a few more cards.
     But don't get me wrong, it is a very enjoyable film and I hope we haven't seen the last Aardman.

End of a pilgrimage

Sitting in the shelter of the hill we could forget the wind that had blown around us all day, but in the valley the white smoke of a steam train waiting at a signal is being whipped away furiously. None of us say anything. Above us the afternoon sun is trying to break through the white clouds. Eventually we start again, the final section of our journey. We've been walking for three days, beside rivers and over hills, in the sunshine and the rain. I can think of no better way I would like to spend my time.

A straggled line of weary walkers

Multi-colours the green hillside.

Thirty-five miles done and two to go,

The church doors waiting to welcome us home.

Logical

A professor once said to his class “Has anyone ever seen God?” The class was silent. “Has anyone ever touched God?” Again the class was silent. “Has anyone ever smelt God?” Still the class was silent. “Well then according to my logic, there is no God.”
     At that point a student stood up at the back of the class and said, “Has anyone ever seen the professor’s brain? Has anyone ever touched the professor’s brain? Has anyone even ever smelt the professor’s brain?” And the class was silent. “Then according to the professor’s logic, the professor doesn’t have a brain.”

Sky Battle

I'm basking in the hot, afternoon sun, reading a book, when a cry breaks the stillness. I glance up just as I hear it again. The second time I recognise the call and look up into the clear blue sky. A gull passes over followed by another, shouting loudly. I've not heard a gull do this before.
     Then I see it. Wings spread wide, gliding smoothly, a buzzard. Suddenly the first gull rises slightly and swoops down on the buzzard who darts sideways at the last moment. Then the second gull attacks and this time Mr Buzzard can't evade and gets a sharp peck.
     Now he's flying hard, his cool, powerful presence disintegrating. Again and again the gulls fly in, herding him. A third gull arrives and together they drive the lone raider away over the gardens.
     Gazing into the sky I pick out another bird, wings spread, almost completely still. It must be his mate, watching from high above. What is she feeling? Why doesn't she make any move to rescue him?
     Suddenly though Mr Buzzard pulls away and the gulls can only yell after him. They turn and swoop back congratulating each other on their success.
     I look again into the unending blue, but Mrs Buzzard has gone too.

The Girl In Chains

I haven't had anything to do with this but I want to help promote it.

27 million slaves is 27 million too many, especially when women are forced to be sex workers. This must stop.

78 minutes

I'm running, running, here and there, back and forth, I'm running. I've stopped running, or have I? No I'm still running, but I'm not going anywhere. Have I stopped?
     I'm falling.
     No, I'm still running.
     But no, I'm definitely falling. Gently, slowly.
     I'm running flat out now.
     I'm on the ground.
     Faster, faster.
     I can feel the grass between my fingers. How did I get here again?
     Everything has become a blur.
     The damp smell of the evening dew fills my mouth and nose.
     Darkness is taking over.
     The noise increases and suddenly dies.

Suddenly I burst out into light, like coming out of a tunnel. I slow down and come to a halt resting my hands on my knees, gasping for breath. It's strange, I can't feel my heart beat. Still panting but the air doesn't seem to come.
     The light is very bright here. Bright white. How far did I run? Where have I come to? I was going so fast I wasn't paying attention.
     'You know, you didn't run so far,' says a voice, 'and you didn't run that fast. It was time that was moving fast, speeding by you.'
     The light is so bright I can't see a thing. 'Who are you?' I try to say, but no words come out.
     'A nation has been praying for you. Now it's time for you to go back.'

     There is a click and I'm yanked backwards and upwards. I'm flying and everything is a blur again, but this time there is no darkness. I crash down onto my back, but it's a soft landing. I bounce and gasp. Air fills me and my heart is racing. I open my eyes for a second and a blaze of colour an noise overwhelms me. I close them again and peace returns. I'll try again later. For now I just want to sleep.
    

The Silent Pianist - Part 3

I leave early and walk home. The clouds are heavy and glow pale orange, reflecting the street lights. Mist descends until I can barely see the pavement in front of me and my eyes begin to sting with the damp air. I miss my house completely and have to turn around. By the time I get in I’m so cold and miserable I go straight to bed.

By morning the mist has lifted slightly and in the east the sun hangs like a ghostly orb. I often like to go for a walk on Saturday mornings, before it gets busy and this morning as I enter the woods it feels like I’m entering a scene from a black and white Hitchcock thriller. The world seems rather more fantastical and mysterious.
            After a while my mind returns to last night and the equally mysterious pianist. I wonder if I should forget him and walk away like he has, but I can’t, every time I try to think of something else he’s there. I’m determined to see him again, to speak to him.
            Slowly the sun is burning away the mist and the sky is clearing. The bare trees brighten and seem to visibly stretch their tired twigs in anticipation of spring.