The King's Speech and Vermin in the Bedroom

Spent the afternoon at the cinema today finally seeing "The King's Speech." It was delightful and glorious and tasteful and smart. From the decor to the costumes, the casting to the impeccable acting, the movie was really enjoyable. The filming was cleverly confined to small rooms, narrow hallways, intimate spaces, and even some fish-eye lens use to mirror the constriction and frustration felt by George/Bertie. Firth and Rush's performances brought tears to my eyes and also made me cackle, successfully irritating the rest of the audience (over 60, Parisian). My friend and I grasped each others' hands and held our breaths throughout the entire nine-minute Speech.

In other news, just a few minutes ago, Kiley and I successfully chased out a mouse from Madame's bedroom using ourselves, a broom, peanut butter, and a pan. The mouse was tiny and adorable and likely hopelessly terrified by the three of us but every time it scampered across the floor we shrieked (I can feel a sore throat coming on I am sorry to say) and jumped on her bed and held hands. Quite a bonding moment.

Also, am I forever destined to consistently cut the roof of my mouth on every baguette I bite into?