Every couple of years we get together with Diana's siblings, Tim & Veronica, and watch the three LOTR movies(extended editions) back to back, which is always fun. I'm inordinately fond of those movies. We watched them on Saturday night, started about seven and finished about six in the morning. They're pretty much all that is good about epic fantasy, the marvellous shifting of perspectives from the intimate to the vast and ageless, and all that is bad, particularly a tendency to faux Shakespearean soliloquy and stating the obvious.
Problem is, after nearly eleven hours of LOTR I start walking around the house getting all monloguey.
"So it has begun, the last great mopping of the kitchen floor, with this the mop that has been reforged (see I broke the mop, and had to get a new handle)."
"Thus passes this packet of chips, son of Smiths, into the bin, and the age of crisps is ended, and I am diminished, and my waist goes into the West, and the East."
The perfect curative was found to be three episodes of Life on Mars.