There’s a sense with blogging that each post ought to have a theme. An SEO-able topic, that kind of runs along a sensible continuum and gives people a reason to read. My blithe dismissal of this on occasion might explain why I’m not a Blogger-with-a-capital-B, but just a…blogger.

Anyway.

The other day I was talking with one of my favourite people and one of my favourite kickass-women-I-admire and the subject of Taika Waititi came up because we all want to see Hunt for the Wilderpeople (and obvs I’m a Thor bore of old). And I said I really want to see it because I really love Sam Neill. Lo laughed and said “no one ever says that! No one ever just goes ‘I really love Sam Neill‘”. And I mean obviously I just did but it’s true. It doesn’t get said in passing conversation nearly enough. The man is the Lord High Master of hey-it’s-that-guy acting – appearing in practically everything, including goddamn Jurassic Park, and yet is not routinely coming up in conversation . He should. This is my manifesto. Also, watch The Dish because it’s all kinds of charming. And if you’ve seen that weird film where he reminisces about his former life as a dog that I caught 20 minutes of in the gym can you explain it to me in the comments? Ta.

While we’re on the subject of hey-it’s-that-guys, my friend Wil has now cooked for Stellan Skarsgard, and this is basically the best thing I’ve ever heard that I’m thinking of right now. This (Stellan, not Wil) is the man whose marvellously oily character made Good Will Hunting watchable! Even if he hadn’t done 100s of other great things, that would be worth the water cooler chat for decades to come. (I know, I know… I just can’t warm to it. I grew up on that other Robin Williams-starring paragon of special snowflakery, Dead Poets Society, and I’m sticking with it. And Josh Charles. To the desk-standing last.)

My brain is very full of stuff at the moment. I’m working on a huge number of different things at work, involved to different degrees. I’m getting ready for a hugely expensive but fun month, with four London Film Festival screenings and a second bite at Letters of Note all happening in a very small space of time. I have many things to pay for, and childcare issues to resolve. I have films to watch and books to read. I have blog posts to write (you all want to know how the painting turned out, don’t you? Well, you should). I have at least three ideas for future businesses I want to run if I can ever figure out how to run a business, and a draft of a book that very, very badly needs rewriting before I can figure out what else I might want to do with it (I’ve booked an Urban Writers Retreat Day to try and deal with a fraction of that).

I need want more dresses with pockets. Or just more dresses.

My hair has decided it’s curly now and I don’t know how to look after curly hair and some days I look like Cher in Moonstruck and other days it’s more like Monica Geller in humidity.

Everything is so… fizzy. I have the privilege of having so much to say and do and think and covet that I cannot get my thoughts into any sort of reasonable order.

Except, apparently, a Sam Neill Manifesto.