Les Miserables - where I literally dreamed a dream

Anna and I went to see Les Miserables last Saturday. I had never seen the stage show. All I really knew was that it was about poor people in Paris around the time of the French Revolution and that I dreamed a dream, Susan Boyle's anthem,was in it.

The film is pretty powerful. It's death every which way through the tragedies of brutal warfare or enduring poverty. Slow deaths sudden deaths punctuate the cat and mouse pursuit of Jean Vaijean by his jailer Javert. The amoral Thenardiers, played with just the right mix of evil and comedy by Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen, add some very dark humour to the proceedings.

I have a confession to make. The cinema was warm, and I'd had a large glass of merlot at lunchtime. So, sadly, I slept through most of Anne Hathway's Fantine. I can tell you that she died well, but when she was singing I dreamed a dream, I was, well, dreaming. I feel bad about that. I do need to go back and see the film again because that was a pretty iconic bit to miss out. Fantine's was the death that affected me the most, as she had to make arrangements for the child she'd been forced to leave.

For me, though, the standout performance was Samantha Barks. Eponine is quite a complex character. She's  clearly had a hell of an upbringing courtesy of her parents, the Thenardiers, but she ends up a mature, compassionate, loving person who is able not to give in to ward off bitterness and revenge.. She managed to convey her heartbreak and anger at her unrequited love for Marius and the inner conflict it creates with authenticity and tenderness.

Russell Crowe's singing was not the best but I still think the way he portrayed Javert's dogged and dogmatic pursuit of Vaijean was excellent.

The photography was amazing - the location shots incredible, particularly in Javert's last scene.


The conclusion was needlessly melancholic and sentimental - although I guess they had to live up to the title and the book on which it was based.

I came out of the cinema feeling sad, angry at the needless brutality and loss and waste of life portrayed on screen but yet glad I'd seen such strong performances. I'd like to see the stage show next. Anna and I are planning a wee trip to London...

Wahaca - smile inducing Mexican street food

Last week I read a mouthwatering review of the Mexican street food restaurant Wahaca over on Katy Riddle's Feel-good Foodbook blog. Her photos and write-up looked so enticing and as I had to go to London for FE on Monday, I decided I had to try it out.

Well, the first thing I have to say is that Katy can write a cracking review. She was bang on about the quality and flavour of the food. It was absolutely delicious. I went to the Covent Garden branch which is about 15 minutes' walk from Westminster. You can't book a table, but, although the restaurant was busy, I was served straight away and the staff were very friendly. Nobody looked at me oddly for being on my own.

After an interesting and intense 3 hour meeting, I wanted to relax with one of these:

 I think I must have been drinking the wrong kind of tequila before because this had a much richer flavour than any I'd had before.

I decided to order Chicken Taquitos - spicy chicken in deep fried tortillas with salsa, sour cream and cheese on top. It looked very pretty and, like everything else I ate, had an almost perfect balance of flavour and texture. The crunch of the tortilla, the spicy heat of the chicken with the sourness of the cheese and the coolness of the  cream with the crispness of the lettuce. It was the sort of food it made me happy to eat.

I'm not a huge lover of beans, but Katy had gone on so much about the Frijoles that I really had to try them. They gave a warm, carby hit that would keep me feeling full and satisfied for a good while and I loved how they looked when the cream was all marbled in with the beans.

I can't ever turn down guacamole. It's one of my favourite foods and I've tried many different versions over the years. Wahaca's stacked up both in looks and flavour. A good amount of spice with cool avocado, sour lime and flavoursome red onion.

After all that, I was quite full. But after a few minutes I decided I could fit in another dish Katy had recommended - the salted caramel ice cream. Again it was perfectly balanced. Often when I've had salted caramel stuff before it's been a bit too salty, but this left in a bit of balancing sweetness. I also liked the fact that they gave me a spoon that matched my Kindle. I doubt it was deliberate but it appealed to me.

 The decor kind of makes you feel like you're eating with the sun on your back. I liked the white brick walls, the metal shutters, the faux stone banquettes and the brightly coloured tiles.

The atmosphere was not a million miles away from the Zumba class I need to work this lot off. The music was loud enough to cheer but not too loud to inhibit conversation.

One thing that struck me was that children were clearly welcome - not just from the stack of high chairs which were not in use at 10pm on a Monday night.

 The menu marks off which dishes might be too spicy for kids and recommends you ask your server for advice. That was a good touch.

All of that  delicious food and drink cost me just £20, which for central London wasn't bad, I thought.

One thing I would have liked to have seen was a statement on tipping policy. There's no service charge if you're in a party of less than five, but I'd still like to know that any tip I give is going to go to the staff and not the pockets of the owners.

I'm half tempted to go the Canary Wharf branch next Monday night when I'm down again. Any of my London friends fancy coming with me?

Review: The Iron Lady

For the first time, I took advantage of being at home in the middle of the day and went to the cinema on Wednesday. The film that inspired me to do so was one about possibly the most controversial British politician of my lifetime. Venerated, in quite a scary way, actually, by the right, loathed with a passion by the left.

She let me down, badly. When she uttered those words of St Francis of Assisi about bringing light and harmony and peace that day in May 1979, I as an 11 year old bought it. When she then proceeded to cause more division and encourage the promotion of self at the expense of social responsibility, I felt so disappointed. When she refused to take action against apartheid and other human rights abuses, I was pretty disgusted.

So, it's fair to say that there's no love lost between me and Mags to put it mildly.

I'd read that the film was more about her Dementia than her record as Prime Minister. I also knew that Thatcher is a lot more popular in the USA than she is here. I wasn't looking forward to seeing her portrayed in a sympathetic light but felt strangely compelled to see the film. I fully expected to come out of the cinema raging.

I hadn't, foolishly, taken the talents of Meryl Streep into account, though. I always knew she was versatile. I mean, anyone who can pull off the harrowing Sophie's Choice, the imperious Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada, and be a credible Donna in Mamma Mia is undoubtedly a talented actress. And now, in the same film, she plays both an inflexible, unlistening, head of Government, surrounded by men who often reluctantly do her bidding, who thinks nothing of sinking a ship that's sailing away from the theatre of war and an old lady coping with the disorientation of Dementia, living an isolated life, surrounded by women who care for her. In the flashbacks, Streep has that clarity and conviction in her eyes. In the portrayal of the older Thatcher, her eyes have confusion in them. It's incredible.

We see the very young Thatcher (played by Alexandra Roach) patronised by men as she tries to win selection  for a Tory seat. Her background as a grocer's daughter and her gender are clearly holding her back and there's a telling scene where she's sent off with the ladies after a dinner. Every woman in politics has gone through something like this at some point. For most of us it makes encouraging other women a priority. For Thatcher, it seemed to breed resentment to come out much later.

For every scene that induced anger - the Falklands, the refusal to depart from her Monetarist policies, the miners' strike, her intransigence over the poll tax, there was another immediately afterwards which made you laugh at Jim Broadbent's portrayal of Dennis, or marvel at Michael Pennington's brief but pretty much spot on scenes as Michael Foot. Streep invokes sympathy for the older Thatcher, widowed, alone and confused. Without giving too much away, there are a couple of really mawkish scenes but, blow me, was there not a tear in my eye? I really must try and toughen up a little.

Streep's portrayal of the present day Thatcher is based on assumptions and a good script, not actual fact. Even so, it feels intrusive, a bit close to the bone, to be watching something like that while she's still alive. I actually found myself agreeing with David Cameron on that point.

It was an excellent film that evoked strong emotions in me - the old anger stirred within my breast, shall we say, but I also felt sympathy for the strange and disorientating world a Dementia sufferer inhabits. For one person to get across confidence and clarity and confusion and grief within one film and one character was amazing and Streep would be a worthy winner of the Best Actress Oscar.