What's The Frequency?

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever; I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Four Weddings and A Funeral. I haven't watched it in so long, I forgot what happens, well apart from the obvious four weddings and the one funeral. And I do love that poem. I remember we had to study it in Language once, can't quite remember why, but it works so well in the context of a film.
Of course all these 'feel good' films are great but they do raise the question of whether things really work like that in real life? I mean yes, everything works out eventually for Hugh Grant but then this all rather depends on the person that you like in the first place actually liking you back. If not then this whole romantic ideal that we can thank the film industry for is just something that happens on screen. Then again, if you're Hugh Grant you don't really have that problem. Me, on the other hand, I'm realistic, I know Hugh Grant will never fall in love with me...

Happy New Year!

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