Sunday 25th October 2009 - Death in Another County

          I've resigned myself to quiet Sundays.  But I heard a rumour that something was going to happen in the next county.  So I rushed off west to see what was happening.  To Canton, the county seat of Stark County.

          Curiously, it resurrected a (mostly) vivid memory of another Sunday evening not all that far from here, but a very long time ago.  I was doing a job in one of those "research parks" they keep out in the country here.  It was in the depths of New Jersey, in a place called either (I said "mostly" vivid)) Piscataway, ot Hakkensack, or perhaps even something else entirely.  There was nothing there but the offices and the hotel which served them.  And there was nobody in the hotel but me.  I just had to break out.  So I went to Philadelphia for dinner.  To a splendid seafood restaurant called Bookbinders.

          Back in the present, I rushed west for about thirty-five miles to see, as it turned out, a movie.  Canton has the most splendid cinema, called the Palace.  It must be 800 to 1000 seats.  But it is extremely good condition

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and has either been lovingly restored, or lovingly looked-after.

And, best of all, it has a mighty Wurlitzer,

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which comes up out of the floor.

          The film was a Tarantino offering called "Inglourious Basterds" (one just has to say 'sic').  It is a very enjoyable evening.  In particular, taking historical adjustment to levels dizzying even for Holywood, it was truly inspiring for a fan of creative non-fiction.

 

          Perhaps inspired by Tarantino quantities of blood and violence, I managed to kill something myself on the way home.  It was a badger-like object, but not the colours I'm used to in a badger.  It chose just the wrong place to cross.  It was just beyond the crest of quite a sharp hill.  As my headlights came down off the brow, there it was, turning to look at me.  I didn't have a chance to do anything.  I was pretty sure, from the "Bang-thump-thump-thump" that it must have been instantaneous, and there was no point in stopping.

          Considering the number of miles I've driven, and the shear quantity of roadkill I see stuck to the road, I guess it was inevitable.  But it kind-of spoiled the evening.