Yesterday was quite a glorious day: just after noon I went for a walk, and found a cricket match in the park. If you ask me, there is simply nothing better than sitting on the grass watching a good game of cricket. To be honest I decided to come home after a couple of hours as if I had stayed there I would have started drinking. As it turns out, Lyn wanted to take a trip to Woolwich anyway.

If getting to watch some cricket was not glorious enough, The Lord of he Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring was on Channel Four Last night. Despite cherishing that film, I rarely watch it, so last night I indulged myself. I still say it is a masterpiece, and, while it isn’t an absolutely faithful reproduction of the book, I am extremely greatful to Peter Jackson for staying as true to Tolkien as he could. Just think of the mess it may have been if a lesser director got the rights to it, or the Disney corporation. Mind you, a version of LOTR directed by, say, quentin Tarrantino would have been interesting.

Thus I was very happy at ten last night, having reacquainted myself with an old friend. I turned the TV over, looking for the news, only to discover some girl with a dog had won britain’s got talent. The contrast hit me hard, being instantly transported from a masterpiece of post-classical film to the banalities of saturday evening tv; from a world intricately and beautifully created by Tolkien and Jackson, to a world in which people have voted for a not-that-talented woman doing some tricks with a not-that-talented dog to win half a million quid. I can hardly think of a greater juxtaposition, although it wasn’t enough to spoil such a glorious day.