The construction has left our street so broken up that a film of dust settles behind every passing car like the streets of Laredo. We must have the central artery of gas mains not to be finished yet. I may not be entirely joking about developing a trauma reaction to the sound of trucks backing up. Every month of this summer has been eaten alive.
Just a little past the thirteen-minute mark of The Cruel Sea (1953),![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch recognized Denholm Elliott as Sub-Lieutenant John Morell from this icon I have had for sixteen years; it was the first I made myself as opposed to was graciously gifted by LJ-friends. For a long time it was the youngest I had seen him, that slight, sardonic erstwhile barrister with the demure dry voice and that flinch on the raw every time someone asks about his wife. ("Haven't you got rid of that clot of a husband yet?") I recognized him at once across thirty years of character acting, the crease of a skeptical eyebrow, his coat slung over his arm. Alec McCowen is similarly unmistakable in his feature debut of a leading seaman, no more guaranteed of making it to the credits than anybody else aboard HMS Compass Rose. For a Nicholas Monsarrat double feature, rain-checked for some night without two medical appointments in the morning, we could watch The Ship That Died of Shame (1955).
I admire this pansy ring from the 1930's and cannot imagine a heterosexual explanation.
Just a little past the thirteen-minute mark of The Cruel Sea (1953),
spatch recognized Denholm Elliott as Sub-Lieutenant John Morell from this icon I have had for sixteen years; it was the first I made myself as opposed to was graciously gifted by LJ-friends. For a long time it was the youngest I had seen him, that slight, sardonic erstwhile barrister with the demure dry voice and that flinch on the raw every time someone asks about his wife. ("Haven't you got rid of that clot of a husband yet?") I recognized him at once across thirty years of character acting, the crease of a skeptical eyebrow, his coat slung over his arm. Alec McCowen is similarly unmistakable in his feature debut of a leading seaman, no more guaranteed of making it to the credits than anybody else aboard HMS Compass Rose. For a Nicholas Monsarrat double feature, rain-checked for some night without two medical appointments in the morning, we could watch The Ship That Died of Shame (1955).I admire this pansy ring from the 1930's and cannot imagine a heterosexual explanation.
