The Anti-Climax of 31

So I'm finally 31. Not that when I was younger I ever spent too much time (if any) postulating where I would be at 31. Nevertheless, as much as I don't want to be 31, I have little choice in the matter. I am however grateful that I have a few years longer until I have to "switch boxes". By that I mean those horrendous forms that require you to approximate your age into one of several bands. You know the kind that are like 25-35, 35-50, 50-65, 65+... or similar. That a 35 year old gets lumped with someone fifteen years older is frustrating, and I'm sure it's no comfort when you reach the upper limit of the range, instead being a painful reminder of years gone by.

Thank you to all those who sent birthday greetings. They were really appreciated on a very cold London day. It was 3 degrees when I walked to work yesterday. And supposedly 1 degree today. My work colleagues tell me that the mysterious nightmen are starting to throw salt and grit on the London streets, although I haven't seen this yet myself.

In spite of being 31, life in London is wonderful (excepting how much I miss Paul) so I have a lot to be grateful for. I haven't planned any birthday extravaganze, preferring to let last year's blow out resonate for a little longer. I am heading out for after work drinks at The Box with Patrick and Peter, so it's quite possible the low-key start will parlay into a bigger commitment.

I did plan a few little birthday treats for myself, like my trip to Brussels last weekend. Then on Monday evening I splashed out on a front row ticket to Chicago. Lynda Carter has been a special guest in the show for a few months now, playing the prison governor Mama Morton. Her run ends tomorrow evening. Her role is small, but she was very good, holding her own with some long-time professionals in the continuing cast. And she looks fantastic. And she's stacked. I know she was "built" when she played Wonder Woman, but her chest was huge in real life. I had a row BB ticket, with no seating in front of me. I think the first few rows are the only way to fly, and well worth the extra £££. I really, REALLY enjoyed the show, which was surprising given how much I LOATHED the film version of Chicago. The stage production is very sexy, aided by some very sexy performers, which is lost on the screen. I think the visual candy holds the audience better during the musical's filler parts.

On Wednesday evening I watched David Lean's Lawrence of Arabia at the National Film Theatre. This mammoth epic of a picture is almost four hours long. The session started just after 6:30pm. But add to that a half hour of speeches before the beginning and a twenty minute intermission, I didn't get home until 11:30!! The event was in a memorial presentation for the film's production designer John Box, who died earlier this year. I'd never heard of him before the evening, but apparently Box is the most awarded British filmmaker, having received four Oscars (which were on display) and several BAFTAs.

I really enjoyed the film, even though I was terrified I'd fall asleep. Once I got passed the first half hour I didn't lose interest for the rest of the evening. The film was shown in 70mm on the large screen in NFT cinema 1, which helped immensely. The 70mm process is wonderful for epic pictures. It's like seeing the very image for real with my own eyes. Fearing the long running time, I had cold feet in the days beforehand. In his review Roger Ebert said that this is one film that must be seen on a big screen, and he is so very correct. Otherwise, many of the wonderful images are lost in a mass of yellow desert blur. And if you're going to sit through a four hour movie, I thought, just do it properly once, the first time!!

Before the film there were tributes from Box's daughter, highly-regarded English costume designer Anthony Powell (he worked on the Indiana Jones flicks, is a protege of Box's, and also worked with Lean), Harry Potter production designer Stuart Craig, and one of the film's stars Omar Sharif. All of these people are highly regarded within the film industry, but it came as no surprise that Sharif received the biggest applause. It's funny how our celebrity-obsessed culture works.

Speaking of which, I passed Sigourney Weaver in Drury Lane street yesterday. Just like when I passed Michael Palin in the street (elsewhere in Covent Garden) some months back, these events are those matter-of-fact London moments when the film world enters the real world, even though I'm totally unsure where to draw the line between the real world and the film world. Anyway, it's quite exciting.