I was lucky enough to be at the press preview of Terminator Salvation last night. The film looks great, with a pumping first half. However, the plot has holes big enough to park a battleship in, some wincingly corny scenes and Christian Bale trying to be all gruff and serious, but coming over as a bit sulky. Oh, and there's a submarine with a Jack Nicholson impersonator in it. The fact that the director calls himself "McG" doesn't help matters. By the time the credits rolled I was glad it was all over, and dying for a pint. We went down to The Harp where I got stuck into a fresh, fruity and hoppy St Edmunds, a beer that gets a bit of stick in some corners of the blogoshire, but I like it a lot. Head and shoulders above the rest of Greene King's products.
In one of those perfect London moments, my District Line carriage home had a girl in it playing a full-size harp and singing in a voice as clear as a Leica optic. Even the hoodies at one end of the car took their earphones out to listen.