Come the ridiculously early time I had to get a train, I got to the station to find out that my train had left two minutes early. It was the one I saw pulling out of the station as I walked through the doors. The next train going in that direction would be an hour. I'd end up being about an hour late... Virgin Trains couldn't have a lower approval rating from me if their staff had been caught fisting kittens in the market square. In the end, I realised that I could change my forty-five minute wait at Wilmslow for a ten minute taxi ride, and did so post haste. Not that it would have mattered. Kris finally came through the gate an hour and a half after her plane landed, as the bastards at US Air had lost her luggage. Well, fucksocks. We did manage to catch a train home and try to chill during the day, at least.
Then, Matrix: Revisited. Oh. Fuck. Yes. More of the same it may be, but more of the same with gratuitous fireballs and smashed trucks and fight scenes that were all much bigger in scale than the first. I'll say no more for those that haven't yet seen it, but I've certainly a few interpretations of my own.
On a tangent inspired by that, I really wish I'd thought to get into The Invisibles while it was current. Or at least while the first trade paperback wasn't out of print. I've been bitten by the small amount I've been able to read, and being unable to get my hands on the start of it all means I'll never get into it properly. Which is a bugger, really. But that ties in with my problems with being a neophile who's always late to whatever is new and cool, and that's a whole other, more boring and depressing post.