Brent was meant to arrive today at 6am and thanks to the inefficiency that is United (and the limited number of flights to New Zealand every day), he now doesn't get here until 24 hours later. Piffle. Plus, working at the library is leaving me very little time to actually *do* anything, especially blog. No internet access except on breaks, either! (Thanks to a staff member a few months back downloading porn while on the checkout desk, I hear. Um, thanks, dude. You couldn't control yourself for a few hours until you got home?)

Excitement: the film festival begins tomorrow!!! Check out this link to see the full extent of the joy - the documentaries and repertory stuff especially. I've narrowed myself down to 18 films in a two-week period, including not one, but *two* silents with full orchestral accompaniment - Dreyer's Passion of Joan of Arc and (yay!) Buster Keaton's Our Hospitality - in the best theatre in the southern hemisphere, an opulent 1929 movie palace with a twinkling star ceiling and two gold lions with red flashing eyes on either side of the stage. Now, if Brent ever gets here I will be almost content. I just need a dog. And a flat. And a TV and a washing machine. And one of those heaters with the fake glowing coals. I *must* have one of those.