I called my da on Sunday. There’s an unspoken rule between us that we have to spend Palm Sunday together (because of puns), but since I was in Chicago and he was back home, a phone call was an acceptable substitute. He was hanging out at home reading with a cat on his lap, like ya do. The world continues to be a balanced place because of this.
He started telling me about how he just got a copy of his favourite version of The Scarlet Pimpernel in the mail (starring Jane Seymour, Anthony Andrews, and Ian McKellen, some of his biggest actor crushes). He was beyond stoked about it and explaining all of the reasons why this was the greatest film in the history of until-he-watches-something-else-brilliant.
For the record, this is the version of Scarlet Pimpernel that features this guy:
Who you may recognise as this guy:
Who along with this awesome lady:
Happened to give birth to this hunk of ridiculous:
As I began to realise this, my father started to go off on a tangent about how he was really irritated that no one bothered to mention in aforementioned film adaptation of The Scarlet Pimpernel that the reason why Marie Antoinette had contacts in Austria was that her mother was head of the Hapsburg Dynasty. And then we gushed about Schönbrunn for about twenty minutes.
And, suddenly, so many things about me made sense.
My da is a fangirl. I am a second generation fangirl. A second generation Cumberbatch fangirl.
Life is beautiful, friends.
Super sorry for the accidental blog hiatus. It was due to some really awesome stuff happening and encouraged by some less-than-awesome stuff happening, but I hope to be back in action soon. Hopefully in a less interweb-picture-heavy format. I promise nothing.