With brother here, the entertainment options are somewhat limited. Sitting at home and watching television is out, for language reasons. Watching DVDs would be fine, but my collection and his tastes are poles apart. So we're left with going out and finding entertainment 'on the town'.
This means either sitting opposite each other à la Smith and Jones whilst speed drinking beers and finding things to talk about, or going to the cinema and not having to talk to each other too much...well, you can guess which option we went for last night.
We went to see Gran Torino, the Clint Eastwood film. It took me a leap of faith to agree to see it - I'm not usually a big fan of Clint. I'm glad I did though. Truly an amazing film. Ironic, humourous and sad, sad, sad. Go see it.
Anyway, I'm not here to give two thumbs up. I'm here to bitch about the girl stood behind us in the queue for the movie.
Because this was the opening night for the film, plus it being a Thursday (big cinema night) the place was jammed. They'd set up a temporary 'zig zag queue' for the entry to the movie and we were herded in to the queuing pen like sheep - then left waiting for fifteen minutes.
Whilst we were waiting, I became increasingly aware of a girl stood behind us.
"...and anyway, they said don't bring chocolates, but I thought, well, everyone brings chocolates, and what's a party without chocolates, and so I took chocolates, and you know what, turns out he's allergic to chocolates, and so I spent the whole evening sat eating the chocolates, the ones that I had brought with me, and they were good, they were Leonidas, have you ever had Leonidas? they're good, they're, like, really expensive but they're really good..."
And so it went on. A monologue. A one-woman show straight from hell.
"...and it was terrible finding somewhere to leave my bike, have you ever had to leave your bike near Les Halles? there's always someone waiting to steal it, it's not like it's a good bike, my dad bought it for me, it's, like, twenty years old or something, but maybe that's why they want to steal it, maybe it's, like, an antique, do you think it's an antique? it could be worth hundreds, maybe I should get it valued, but maybe it's just, like, junk..."
Shocking. And on it went.
I was about to ask her to speak quieter when her friend took the situation into her own hands.
"You never shut up do you?", said Chatty Cathy's friend. "You wonder why we only ever come to the cinema? It's because it's the only way to keep you quiet".
"But....", started Chatty Cathy. But it was too late, the queue was moving and her friend told her to shush.
And I realised that me and friend both had one thing in common. We'd both chosen the cinema to avoid sitting in a bar with our companions.
I thanked my lucky stars that my brother is the silent type.
I do worry that I'm the Chatty Cathy though...