Perhaps it was just that it had been built up too much, but I found The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers a disappointment. That’s what comes of seeing it tonight, when the whole world and its wife has already seen it and either told you or written on the web how good it was. Sure, the effects were great, and the battle of Helmsdeep was, of course, a magnificent piece of cinema (although I have to admit to being more impressed by the breaching of Saruman’s dam), but the story was slow and the humour surrounding Gimli misplaced. I was also disappointed that they stopped before bringing in the spiders and didn’t even deal with Wormtongue throwing Saruman’s ball out of the window.

Far more entertaining is Saruman’s online diary:

4 March 3019: Damn those stupid Ents! They’re making my life hellish. I woke up choking around three this morning, and found the room full of smoke; I thought I’d been smoking in bed again, but no! The damnable trees have flooded the Ring! They poured water in for hours; it’s been flooding all the basements, the factories, breeding-pits, storerooms, armouries, dungeons, playrooms, everything! The Downward Passage has been flooded all day. I’m trapped in here like an ant. It’s only been the last few hours that I’ve been able to open a window around here.

I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get all this repaired.

This is really making me sick. And there’s nothing to eat around here; just some cheese and crackers, and the cask of wine I had waiting for the victory celebration. I knew I should have kept some more food in the Tower! Dammit, the hunger’s making me lightheaded. I’ve been chain-smoking all afternoon; it clears the stench from the flooding, and takes my mind off the hunger.

Still, I guess it was an entertaining way to spend three hours, but I preferred the first installment.

That was the end of the day, though, and I’m sitting here with the expansive trumpetary music still slowly circling my head as I sip spearmint tea. It’s actually been a fairly long day, that started with a call from dad, packing his bags for his annual Marsailles - Madrid - Buenos Aires flight.

He has perfected the skill of calling just after the alarm has gone off but before I’ve fully woken up so I never catch it before the machine picks it up, which means I end up running into the lounge before he rings off. Doing that this morning scared the cat who still isn’t totally happy about the noises in the flat. She keeps growling at the front door, and at the footfall noises coming from the flat above. She retreated to beneath the settee and stayed there the rest of the day.

She was just starting to poke her nose back out again when Mark arrived for tea and cake. I’d been working all morning, so it was a welcome break, and we spent a good three hours flopping around on the settee talking about anything and everything we’ve missed in the last two months. I can’t believe it’s that long since we last saw each other, and neither could he.

I showed him my new photos and he said I should try and sell them, which is encouraging.

I was making a third round of drinks when he received a doom-laden phone call - the kind of call the police call an agony call - and threw on his coat and shoes.

As he ran out the door I wished him luck.

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