The Icelandic film night at Christine's was rather fun. She and Robert put on Cold Fever, then served freshly made pizzas for dinner. After sliced apples with a sweet cream and a story about St. Swithun (I still don't really get the how the apples and cream are connected to St. Swithun), it was decided that Reykjavik 101 would be screened, which is a film I've been trying to find but Civic Videos just doesn't carry the title.

The films were great; I enjoyed them more than Noi the Albino, which C once rented.

I don't suppose anybody does deadpan humor and understatements better than the Icelanders.

Sigh. Back to work. Research essay. Middle English.

I miss pole.