Do you know, I rather loved the new Sherlock Holmes film, despite Guy Ritchie spraying his usual bare-knuckled, sweaty, mockney testosterone all over the screen. I think I loved it mostly because of Robert Downey Jr, for whom I’ve cherished a soft spot since he was the best thing in the increasingly wobbly Ally McBeal. He’s brilliant as Sherlock Holmes: witty, haggard and deliciously intelligent. I doubt Conan Doyle purists will be pleased – and since, to my everlasting shame, I’ve never read any of the stories, I can’t comment there – but it was quick and funny and wonderfully conveyed the Victorian murkiness of London. Jude Law made a likeable Dr Watson (when does he get the time to see any patients, I wonder?) and Rachel McAdams was the token satin-ruffled double-crossing love interest. The plot was preposterous, of course, with more than a touch of Dan Brown silliness; unlike Tom Hanks and his eyebrows, though, nobody took anything very seriously. Good entertainment after a sunny day in Fairhope and an excellent meal in O’Charley’s restaurant.
Today, a bit of culture: it’s been chilly and rainy in Mobile so indoor activities were the order of the day. When it rains in Mobile, the moisture seeps into clothes and furniture, leaving you all clammy and cold. So damp and unpleasant was the weather, in fact, that Mum and I had mashed potatoes and gravy for lunch, and felt much better for it. The men in the house spent the morning and much of the afternoon shooting pixellated bullets at each other on Counterstrike, then around 3pm we headed for the Mobile Museum of Art. It was a surprisingly large building with a Goya exhibit and several rooms of intricate wooden sculptures. Well worth the visit.
Now, we’re waiting for dinner while watching Harrison Ford in Patriot Games. Timothy is not impressed that Harrison’s wife drives a Porsche while Harrison got landed with the clunky station wagon. According to him, this is why the Ford family got attacked by Sean Bean the IRA terrorist: bad vehicle management. In future, he tells me, he will take responsibility for the Jeffcoat family Porsche in order to prevent such tragedies happening to us. I tell him that Sean Bean has never had a grudge against us, especially not while sporting such a flamboyantly rubbish Irish accent, but he’s determined to take necessary precautions. It’s good to have such a selfless husband.