Yesterday I gave in to temptation and watched Bedknobs and Broomsticks. I went to see it in a theatre when it was first released, which I suppose technically makes me a grownup, though - ha! you'd have to be either a little crazy, or twelve, to think so.
I'd forgotten all of the plot in spite of my fond memories of empty suits of armor marching over the fields, which turns out to have been quite sensible of me: all the stuff about English apprentice witch Miss Price animating the armor with a spell to fight off a German raid in 1940 was not taken from the two books on which the film is based. In fact, according to Wikipedia, there is no reference to the war in the books at all. I hope to confirm this for myself when said books turn up via inter-library loan.
Still, between that and knitting my first-ever sock - something I've often wondered about people doing over and over again to help with various war efforts - I wasn't surprised when I sat down at the TV at night just in time for a documentary about a terrible 1943 air battle in which many Allied pilots were killed. Being me, I was moved by the story of the one surviving pilot and the sister of one of the dead returning to the scene to lay a memorial stone... and simultaneously preoccupied with the scenery, which is breathtaking. Must. Visit. Norway.
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