The Darkness

On Sunday we are again at Broadway for 'The Darkest Hour'.

The Darkest Hour here is Winston Churchill’s, with Hitler’s forces poised across the Channel ready to invade in May 1940, and his darkness lasts considerably longer than an hour.

Churchill (Gary Oldman) finds himself not only up against Hitler but also most of parliament who don’t approve of him, his vision or his motives. Many still wanted appeasement and are agitating for a deal with Germany particularly the recently deposed Neville Chamberlain (Ronald Pickup).

Chamberlain wants fellow appeaser Lord Halifax (Stephen Dillane) to be his successor but Halifax doesn’t fancy the job and they are forced to turn to Churchill as he is the only man the other political parties would support. On the bright side it is a job that comes with a cutesy young WAAF secretary (Lily James).  

Once in power, Churchill refuses to negotiate for peace while everyone thinks he is mad for thinking that he can beat the Germans particularly with all the Allied forces currently heading for defeat at Dunkirk. They think he’s even more insane when, against all advice, he orders a suicide attack from Calais as a distraction while Dunkirk is evacuated.

Meanwhile he allows Halifax to send word via the Italians that Britain might be interested in negotiating but only because Halifax and co are planing on resigning from the government, probably triggering a vote of no confidence, if they don’t get their way.

However King George VI (Ben Mendelsohn) unexpectedly visits Churchill and backs him, mainly because he doesn’t want to be exiled. Then Churchill bizarrely asks a group of passengers on the London Underground what they think. Did that really happen? Doubt it.

When he realises that the public support him, as do his back benchers, and then when his evacuation of Dunkirk is success even Chamberlain swings behind him as he emerges from the darkness.

It’s a good film but an odd one. I can’t say I learnt anything new and it really covers far too short a period, in my opinion anyway. Gary Oldman is decent as Churchill but then have so many great actors over the years. A bit of a disappointment really. 

Not A Great Start And Not A Great Finish

The boys and I are at a dog show at Onley which is near Rugby but we have a late start so that means L is out of the house before us. She is heading to Long Eaton parkrun where she runs an excellent 30:19 with her friend as a pacer.

Then she embarks on a Grand Tour of sorts which involves, apparently, the world’s biggest bacon butty at the Apple Tree in Ockbrook before ending up at her Mum’s in Mickleover.

Meanwhile at the dog show we have not made a great start. MD refuses a jump on both his first two runs and also missed a weave entry on one of them. Rather frustratingly his contacts, which are his usual downfall, have been excellent.

We don’t make a great finish either. He has poles down in both his last two runs although both runs were much better than his first two. So no clears today which means no rosettes.

The upside is that we are all finished by lunchtime and that’s after having a late start as well. If only all dog shows were like this. We head home and then head over to Mickleover to pick L up.

We have been invited ice skating tonight in Nottingham's ‘Winter Wonderland’ with L’s sister's fmaily and even for a drink in the ‘more money than sense’ Ice Bar, although it turns out they couldn’t get tickets in the end.

Instead we go out for a relaxed film and pub night. First we check out the new ‘craft’ Lord Nelson which had a spell as the awful Mirage fun pub but it’s packed. We’ll have to come back as it might be ok when it loses its appeal. Instead we have a pre-film drink in the Lord Roberts.

A United Kingdom is set in post-war 1940s London and based on the true story of Seretse Khama, the heir to the throne of Botswana or Bechuanaland as it was then.

The events portrayed in the film are factual but not that well known in the UK. I personally knew little of this story before watching the film but I do now. I do love a good education.

Khama (David Oyelowo) is over in London studying while waiting to take over as leader in his own country. He inherited the rule as a young boy but his uncle is ruling as regent until he is old enough to take over.

It is while he is in London that he meets every day young lass Ruth Williams (Rosamund Pike), the daughter of a salesman, at a church dance that oddly seems only to attract black African men and white British women. The Daily Mail would have had a field day.

He and Ruth hit it off, fall in love and marry. All rather quickly. We've seen a couple of films with instance romances recently.

Naturally this mixed race marriage is going to raise a few eyebrows and being shunned by her father (Nicholas Lyndhurst) turns out to be the least of their worries as she moves to Botswana with her man, not quite knowing what she's getting herself into.

When they arrive in his homeland, his choice of queen does not go down that well with the locals, with his uncle or indeed the British government whose protectorate Botswana is currently under. They all refuse to accept her and call for Khama to either give up his new bride or to give up his country.

Khama then seems to win over his people with his ‘I love my people’ speech but this does not work with the British government who are in hoc to the South African government, who are in the process of implementing their policy of apartheid. Naturally the prospect of a black leader in a neighbouring country marrying a white woman does not sit well with them.

The film takes us back and forth between a drab post-war England and bright sunny Botswana as it documents the political struggle that ensues. Prime Minister Clement Attlee exiles Khama from his own country leaving his newly pregnant wife marooned there where she actually makes a decent fist of being queen-elect and eventually wins over the people of Botswana.

There is hope when Winston Churchill, the leader of the Opposition, promises to reverse Attlee’s decision were he to win the forthcoming General Election. However, when he does, he changes his mind and takes an even harder line than Attlee did.

A solution comes in the form of diamonds. When there are discovered in the territory they belong to the people under a Protectorate but if they were a colony, as they British government wanted them to be, they wouldn’t have.

This knowledge enables Karma to reconcile with his uncle and they agree that he should he a renounced the throne allowing him and his wife to return to the country as private citizens while setting the country on a path to independence. Independence which is fulfilled in 1966 when Karma himself becomes the first democratically elected president of the Botswana. Their son is now the current President.

It’s a decent, if unspectacular film, which seems to be at least accurate in the majority of its historical detail which is rare these days. Well worth a look.

Afterwards it’s drinks in the Scribblers and the Blue Monkey.

(Saturday 3^rd December)

D-Day Arrives

"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat" - Winston Churchill, House of Commons, 13th May 1940.

Of course he never, to my knowledge, ran a half marathon.

Today we’re in Sheffield, without the dogs, as we’re expecting a fair hike from parking at the Sheffield Arena to the start line inside the Don Valley Stadium. The distance is not too bad in the end but the race isn’t particularly dog friend. This is no great surprise with nearly 6000 entrants.

Starting the race in the stadium is a nice idea, if a little congested. After which it’s a three or so mile tour of some of the least aesthetically inspiring parts of Sheffield. Things pick up when we leave all that industrial dereliction behind and head into the city centre. Which apart from being much better on the eye becomes a bit of a tour of some of our favourite Sheffield watering holes - Ahh the Old House, the Devonshire Cat, over there the Sheffield Tap etc etc.

Also once in the city centre the crowd come into play and the sheer weight of numbers is worth an extra gear. Mind you if the city centre was an extra gear, the Ecclesall Road was a whole extra engine. The support there was simply awesome.

I scan the crowd for Daughter, who lives just around the corner from the Ecclesall Road. No sign but then it’s four or five deep in places, so it would be difficult to spot her.

There are downsides of course. A race of this stature shouldn't have drinks in cups, which are clumsy and difficult to drink from. I have to stop to drink from them, which costs time. They should also offer sports drinks but the sponges were a positive. I do like a sponge.

I also didn't think the mile markers were terribly visible and missed a lot of them. This made it difficult to keep track of how I was doing and perhaps is why, rather unbelievably, with 2 miles to go I was on for a 1:41.

Then nine minutes to the 12 mile marker seemed to have put paid to anything under 1:43 or so I thought. As the 13 mile point and the condemned Don Valley came into view a few minutes earlier than expected, I come to the conclusion the ‘12’ had wandered from where it was meant to be and a time of 1:41:46 is mine.

Even I’m impressed. I would have taken a time 1:45 in my arms and snogged the life out of it. A 1:41, considering my current state of unfitness, is well... in for a very good night indeed.

L of course has been just as injured, if not more so than me. She had threatened to take a book around to read as she was ambling round. Yet, I think, even she was pleased with her performance. 

We both get a post-race massage which should help prevent those injuries reoccurring.

The stadium finish was great and it’s scandalous that the stadium will not be around to host the race next year. Which poses the organisers a bit of a challenge for the future. Good luck with that.

The wristband at the end was also a nice touch. Not that I spotted them but L did and got me one. Sadly though both the small t-shirts and more horrifically the water had run out by the time she finished and there were still almost a thousand people behind her.

On the whole a well organised and enjoyable race with a nice-ish route, good bits and bad bits like most races. I guessed a race in Sheffield was unlikely to be flat and it certainly wasn't but it was probably as flat as they’re going to get it.

We have problems finding where we left the car but once we overcome that little hurdle and the queue to get out the car park, it’s off to meet Daughter for lunch. Well actually we spend that long drinking coffee and letting the queue dissipate, that when we do leave we are the last out of the car park. The attendants are stood there waiting to lock the gates. I’m not sure what they thought as we’d been such a long time that we had totally steamed the car up. I just hope they didn’t see us both stripping off to get changed or they’d really have been wondering what we were up to.

We meet Daughter and go for lunch in the Lescar where the Titanic Cappuccino Ale is exactly what my body requires. Daughter is well grumpy, which is a bit off really as it turns out she didn’t show up to support us, so if anyone had a right to be grumpy it was us. Perhaps we should have boycotted lunch but we’re not like that.

Back home we hobble with the dogs across the park, getting Doggo past the marquee this time, and we go for a drink at the Admiral Rodney, which is as dull as ever. So we move to the Wheelhouse for some Abbot Ale, which is better but as they don’t allow dogs in we have to sit outside in what is a really murky damp evening. 

(Sunday 12^th May)