Dear Mr Fincher...

I've just been to see movie The Girl Who Played With Fire, the sequel to The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. I am now tearing through the third and final volume of Swedish writer Stieg Larsson's gripping trilogy and eagerly anticipating the third film.
While I preferred the first movie, I enjoyed both the Swedish made films of the novels. But this being L.A, of course there's an American remake on the way.
Oh no, I hear you groan, let's see what a dog's dinner Hollywood can make of yet another excellent European movie.
Just as films of your favourite novel never seem to quite measure up, American remakes of foreign films often fall short of the original.
I'm still waiting to see what happens to the fine French thriller Cache, which has been optioned by a couple of big Hollywood hitters including Ron Howard but still (perhaps mercifully) hasn't reached the screen yet.
It's not all bad news. At the helm of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo is David Fincher who made The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button and Seven.
Casting is everything of course, and let's hope Mr Fincher doesn't yield to studio pressure to go the commercial route, but gives us at least half as interesting a choice as Noomi Rapace, who nails the role of Salander in the Swedish movies so brilliantly.
And, Mr Fincher, can you please keep the author's lovely intention of having Blomkvist eat and drink his way through every crisis: "He put on his sports jacket and went downstairs. He ordered a coffee and a cheese and liver pate sandwich.....Blomkvist bought a pasta meal from the 7-Eleven on his way home..."
Come on, it's part of Micke's character. In fact, everyone is constantly chowing down or drinking coffee in the books. Please keep that in - I know Mr Larsson put it in for a reason.
I'm hopeful that Mr Fincher will give us something that conveys the complexity and intelligence of the books, but going on past records, I'm not convinced that something will not be lost in translation. I'd love to be proved wrong!

Intern-al affairs

When I was a kid, the only intern I knew of was TV's Dr. Kildare. Now as I comb the job vacancy lists, the most frequent word I read is "intern".
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't an internship meant to be a professional training of some kind, on the understanding that if you make the grade, there could be a job at the end of it. And traditionally, internships cover your expenses or pay a small stipend.
These days it seems there is very little likelihood of getting a paid position at the end of internships which typically run from a month to six months. Heck no. They just replace you with another eager and willing pair of hands, desperate to get a foothold in their desired field.
What's more, most interns complain that they get no travel or food expenses. This means interns are actually paying to work, which just doesn't seem fair to me.
Why not just come right out and say it: "Come and work for us for free, then get back in the job line. Sure, you'll have some valuable experience that may include being a general dogsbody, but whoever promised you more than that? Next sucker, please!"

Too old to have an opinion?

I've just been turned down by a company who runs focus groups as being too old to take part. Apparently, if you're over 50, you don't have an opinion - or at least not one the marketers care about.
This particular survey was for testing out new TV pilot shows - "But I watch loads of TV," I protested. Not good enough as I'm not deemed to be a big spender on all the products that might get advertised in the commercial breaks, it seems.
Undaunted, I checked out my inbox today and found half a dozen other possible focus groups but was out of luck again as the cut off ages were 39, 49 and 54. I wasn't even eligible for the "snacks at home" one - even though I now eat more snacks than ever before in my life and certainly more than are good for me.
So what happened to 50 being the new 30? Not to mention the surveys that show a growing older population with more disposable income than any other section of society. Most people over 50 have the kids off their hands and have paid off the mortgage. We're all living longer and out to have more fun. So what gives? I'm not exactly ready to roll over. I own an iPod, a smart phone, a digital camera, go to rock concerts, love clothes, dining out, going to movies, taking vacations, eating chocolate - so I'm clearly still a consumer. Apparently, I'm an invisible one.

Rhubarb, rhubarb...

Yorkshire rhubarb has joined the elite ranks of produce whose names can’t be mucked about with, including Champagne and Parma Ham.
UK environment secretary Hilary Benn announced recently that the sweet, tender shooted forced rhubarb, grown and harvested by candlelight, is now officially on the list of specially protected foods and drink.
Yorkshire rhubarb is the 41st home grown product whose name is now protected, along with the likes of Swaledale cheese (a favourite of mine), and Cornish Sardines.
I miss my mum’s home made rhubarb crumble – you don’t see much rhubarb here in California – but I for one am starting to recognise the value of home grown produce and it seems I’m not alone.
One of the first things that struck me about California was its proliferation of farmer’s markets, thronging with shoppers armed with everything from modest hemp bags to full sized grocery carts, all stocking up for the week with locally grown, seasonal produce.
It was almost like being a kid again – enjoying sun kissed strawberries picked early that morning in Oxnard, or a variety of weird and wonderful squashes, or perhaps local honey, said to keep allergies at bay.
This morning I felt mildly disgruntled that I couldn’t buy my blueberries at the grocery store until I realised they come from Chile at this time of year and nothing is getting out of that earthquake ravaged zone just now.
We are so used to having everything we want, all year round (even though it may have flown thousands of miles, sat in warehouses for ages and lost much of its goodness). Perhaps it’s time to appreciate the special things that grow in our own backyard a little more – be it humble Yorkshire rhubarb, or a nice bottle of organic pinot noir from Napa Valley and a sliver of Humboldt Fog cheese. Pass the organic rosemary crackers....

Would you risk it for a biscuit?

It's official - the custard cream has been found to be Britain's most dangerous biscuit. In some cutting edge research by Mindlab International the nation's favourite breaktime bikkies were evaluated for their injury risk.
Common accidents apparently are poking yourself in the eye with a biscuit, falling off a chair while reaching for the tin, choking on one, and then there are the dunking accidents caused by impatient fingers who can't wait for their brew to cool down before dipping.
Top of the injury list is the trusty custard cream and among the safest choice is the Jaffa Cake. I was somewhat perturbed to see my old favourite, Rich Tea, entering the chart at number five and I may be forced to revert to my second preference, shortbread (full butter, of course), which has a much lower injury rate.
Crumbs, you may say! Have we nothing better to do than pay people to research how the cookie crumbles? Personally, I'm all for it if it gets us talking about the humble British biscuit. They are such a comfort - dunked or crunched, there's simply nothing like one with your elevenses or afternoon tea.
Biscuits also evoke fond childhood memories - Nice biscuits at home carefully dunked (they collapse pretty fast and then they're not so nice), the excitment of Penguin biscuits at a friend's house for tea, fat arrowroot biscuits in waxed wrappers in the pub garden while mum and dad downed a shandy, digestives at granny's.
Of course, here in the U.S - 'biscuits' are the knobbly insipid scone-like concoctions that you eat with bacon and eggs for breakfast. Here the biscuit as we know it is the 'cookie'. So what's the danger factor here? Is an Oreo eater at greater risk than a chocolate chip cookie muncher?
For once, Britain is ahead in research on something - come on America - let's see the size of your cookie monster!

What's your addiction?

I'm unreasonably excited. You see, the mail man just delivered the new catalogue from art supplies store Utrecht. It's full of bargains and slashed recession prices and like a page turning novel, I can't put it down.
Wow - they've got T-squares for $9.99 - I never had one but I might need one. Then there are wooden palettes from $5.49 - yes, I have four but they're plastic or china, not WOOD. And then there's the paper - oh boy, don't get me started on the papers - cotton canvas, vellum, pastel, newsprint.....
Devouring the catalogue like a box of designer chocolates, I get the same feeling I used to as a kid at school when I was given a new exercise book - I would stare at it reverentially, stroke its clean white first page and revel in the very first letters I carefully inked onto it. I've had a stationery fixation ever since.
When I moved to LA I found a plethora of art stores - Blicks, Swains, Utrecht....and then there's my guilty little secret - Hiromi. This small, discreet store at Santa Monica's Bergamot Station sells Japanese handmade papers ranging from a few dollars to really big bucks. It's a paper addict's paradise and I can never leave without something.
The weird thing is, I don't use most of what I buy, just collect it - I'm looking at a stack of canvasses parked in the corner of my already cluttered studio apartment - this is how I know I have a problem. But hey, there could be worse things to be addicted to - so own up, is anyone else hooked on something odd?

The thrill of the chase?

So here I am, against my better judgement, watching a woman driving a stolen U-Haul truck at breakneck speed down PCH on TV.
Ever since the famous O J Simpson chase, I’ve been unhealthily drawn to these car chases.
They can go on for hours, which is a total waste of my time, so why am I fascinated by them?
I’m getting so versed in the aerial coverage of these events that I can almost anticipate when the cops are going to throw down the spiked strips to slow the driver down.
I have to say I have a sneaking admiration for the woman I’m currently watching
who is very nifty behind the wheel of such a bulky vehicle, as she criss-crosses the median into oncoming traffic, without incident, fortunately.
Of course, eventually they either crash, stop of their own accord, get pulled into a ‘pit manoeuvre' (my favourite) or simply run out of gas (which is a bit boring).
It’s uniquely American – all those freeways are just so tempting I suppose – and not something we see a lot of in the UK. I suspect it wouldn’t command such a viewing audience. Plus, you can go a lot further on a tank of gas here, which makes the chase longer – it’s so pricey in the UK that you wouldn’t get far.
So is it the psychological drama I’m drawn to – what’s going on in the suspect’s mind, how will the cops outwit them etc, or is it the sheer adrenalin, the thrill of the chase I love to watch? (Though most of the time, it’s really quite dull)
I just hope this one finishes before I have to go out – I’m not sure my date would understand if I choose a car chase over him.