Days Off with BMO

When you're a teacher trying to make his merry way in this world, a day to yourself when you have absolutely nothing to worry about; no marking, no problematic students, and, heaven forbid, no bureaucratic nonsense, comes about as often as finding a fresh fifty pound note laying in your path in the street.

So, on a peaceful Sunday morning (and by morning, I mean afternoon - you know it's a proper day off when you can still be in your pjs at 1pm with no guilt) I find myself thinking of the perfect ways to spend a day off. For your reading pleasure, here's my top five...

Cartoons

As any long-term readers of this blog know, I spend a vast amount of my precious free time indulging my nostalgia by watching the cavalcade of cartoony goodness from my youth. Whether it's a classic Disney series, or a piece of modern gold such as Adventure Time, there's nothing more enjoyable than some good quality kids' TV. In fact, one of the few reasons I have for actually having kids in the near future is to allow myself to continue watching cartoons under the pretence of it being for their enjoyment. "You want to watch Octonauts? Shuttup, Darkwing Duck's on!"

Baking

I don't bake as much as I'd like. Indeed, until about three years ago, I hated baking and was adamant that I was a cook and not a baker. Times change, and having somewhat been forced into the craft at a restaurant I was briefly working at, I have finally come to see the joys of throwing a bunch of stuff in a cake tin and hoping for the best!

Comic Sorting

I've always had a passion for alphabetising, coupled with a lifelong affinity for superheroes. Thus there are few greater joys in my life than hours spent lovingly putting comics into plastic envelopes and sorting them into chronological order. Dear god I lead a sad existence...

Gardening

I never thought I'd be the gardening type. Indeed, as a kid I absolutely hated the hours spent in the shed with my father on some cockamamie DIY project. It's rather odd then that when we moved to our current flat, I found a strange affinity with our shed. As soon as the sun comes out, I find myself outside, Bon Jovi blaring, potting and repotting the various fruits and veggies that we've currently growing on the veranda. Eventually, I might even get this kiwi tree to grow. The avocado's certainly looking healthy!

Busking

Street performing has becoming something of a zen-like experience to me now. No matter how bad my day at work, a couple of hours with my guitar, making a few extra pennies, has become the highlight of my week. Music is the universal medicine, and actually being appreciated for it quite frankly is awesome.

Unfortunately, having spent the day geeking out, I've now for a pile of ironing to work through. At least I've got Finn and Jake to keep me company though. Guess what time it is?

It's Ironing Time!

A New Age with Elizabeth Olsen

I must admit, as I get older, I feel that I should perhaps begin to grow up a little; as a man on the verge of turning thirty, I feel that some of my more childish pursuits; evenings spent watching Adventure Time marathons, my lego collecting, and my weekly trip to the comic shop, should perhaps take something of a back-burning.

As such, I felt a little ashamed the other night to be partaking in one of the geekiest exploits of my life to date; a midnight viewing of the Marvel Cinematic Universe's latest offering, Age of Ultron.

After being one of the few people to be utterly underwhelmed by the first Avengers outing, and subsequently being disappointed by the terribleness of Iron Man 3 and Thor 2, I have had reservations for a while now. Upon learning that a grand total of twelve beloved Marvel heroes would be taking to the screen, I had a horrible feeling that I was in for another dip into the "too many heroes, too much action, too much story and not enough of any of the above" territory previously claimed by X-Men The Last Stand. 

Fortunately, within the first five minutes of Age of Ultron, I knew I was to be proven wrong.

Opening with a fantastic raid sequence on the lair of Hydra honcho Baron Von Strucker, we are reintroduced to our core Avengers, with Thor, Captain America, Iron Man and the Hulk leading the way, and Black Widow and Hawkeye once again in stalwart support. Indeed, I groaned aloud when once again poor, oft seemingly useless Hawkeye was knocked out and laid up once again within the very first fight. Give the guy a break! And, much to my surprise, a break was very much given. Of the original team, Barton very much managed to steal the show this time round, and in a great speech towards the end of the movie, actually proved that perhaps he is more vital to the team than even the screen-hogging Tony Stark.

The much-moaned about online relationship between Romanov and Banner actually added humanity to this sequel, something very much missing in the first film, and Mark Ruffalo has this time round really got to grips with the many emotions haunting the troubled doctor. 

Humanity is what really solidified this film in the MCU oeuvre; in a world of super powers and CGI, with a cybernetic villain (played with aplomb by James Spader), it's sometimes difficult to keep things grounded, but Joss Whedon really made an effort this time to show us the personal sides of these fantastic characters. In Age of Ultron, we see the friendships these heroes have built over the years, and that humanity is what can finally stand against a technical foe.

One thing that worried me before entering the Odeon was how our new players were going to be introduced; Marvel legends Quicksilver, Scarlet Witch and the Vision have all been very much teased over the last few months, and I was very impressed with the portrayals of these "enhanced" beings, and am in fact now somewhat besotted with Elizabeth Olsen's Wanda Maximoff. Quicksilver is a totally different side of Pietro Maximoff to his Days of Future Past counterpart, and equally as delightful to watch, and Paul Bettany's promotion from VoiceOver to superhero in the Vision works well within the context of the story. Indeed, as the all new Avengers finally Assembled, a tingle ran down my spine in apt anticipation of what is to come.

My only grumble is a small one; although eleven of our twelve Avengers got ample screen time (perhaps a little more War Machine would have been nice, but what we got was good), I do begrudge the absence of Falcon from the final battle. Having stolen the show somewhat in The Winter Soldier, I was very excited to finally welcome Sam Wilson to the main roster, and thus was disappointed that in a high flying sky battle (because it wouldn't be a Marvel movie without one!), Falcon didn't swoop in to join the other sky-based heroes. Maybe he got cut from the original four hour version... Ho hum...

Overall, however, Age of Ultron is a fantastic conclusion to Marvel's second phase, building upon the MCU's great points, and improving very much so on their mistakes of the past. Colour me excited for the next few years to come.

And more Elizabeth Olsen please. Much more.

A Televisual Comic-book Cocktail with Chloe Bennet

I remember when I was younger, I used to pride myself on my vast knowledge and time spent with a variety of different tv shows. Indeed, my love of television is what initially propelled me to do a masters in scriptwriting, in the youthful hope that one day I could be up in the screen-writers' pantheon with the likes of Joss Whedon and Russell T Davies.

During university, my screen-time continued to flourish, with hours spent digesting any semi-acclaimed (and indeed any completely off-the-wall) series that happened to be talked about that week, finally culminating in over 400 hours of "research" for my MA dissertation, "The role of the ensemble sidekick in supernatural tv drama since 1993". Lot of use that turned out to be...

In recent years, however, I've begun to notice that I make little time anymore for television, with even my stalwart go-to comfort shows such as Masterchef and the Bake Off (shush; I used to be a chef... These shows are like porn to me...) getting cast aside for a decent book, or, quite frankly, a good sleep.

If you were to ask me what I'm watching at the moment, I would genuinely have to take a moment to think; I tried Game of Thrones (sorry, dull), Breaking Bad never appealed, and I'm still waiting in vain hope for a sitcom to come along to trump How I Met Your Mother.

So what am I watching? Well, there was, until two weeks ago, Glee, whose passing still makes me sad, and then, to be honest, everything else is comic book adaptations and spin offs, most of which I am weeks behind in due to an aggravating combination of livin in the UK and a crack-down on upload sites online.

It was a joy yesterday, therefore, to have a day, for the first time in over a month, where I had absolutely nothing to do. True, the weather was beautiful, and a little voice inside me kept saying I should be outside getting some vitamin D, but you know what, little voice? It's my dad, so shut up!

Six episodes of Agents of Shield later, and I'm almost up to date, relishing in a series that started oh so badly before finally becoming something Mr Whedon should be proud of. Throw in a large side Chicago Town pizza and I'm halfway through the fantastically macabre Daredevil series on Netflix, and then pour a glass of scotch before finishing with a couple of shots of Gotham for good measure.

Complete our cocktail analogy with a delightful sprinkling of Chloe Bennet's Skye to garnish and I am a happy man.

None of it could truly be classes as high-brow entertainment, and I'm still a good fortnight behind all of my friends that I'm putting off talking to due to possible spoiler leakage, but hey, these shows make me happy, and at the end of the day, I'd rather be watching a series because I actually want to than because the world tells me I should.

Now, dear Marvel, about that Howard the Duck tv series I pitched...

At the Terminal with Kurt Wagner

I hate airports. Cold, faceless gateways to the world, there are in fact very few that instil any sense of excitement about the holiday to come.

Having spent a depressingly large proportion of the last decade arriving and departing from various destinations across the globe, I have come to regard airports with the same suspicious loathing with which they regard me.

Nowhere else in life are you expected to arrive hours early simply to be bundled into a cramped, noisy, smelly room and be grinned at inanely by people with more makeup on than Ronald McDonald. Once ushered through the gates, a minimum of one whole hour before the flight (indeed the one you already checked on to online the evening before), you are greeted by a landscape of unsmiling travellers, perched miserably on their luggage as the inevitable news of flight delays are delivered by faceless flatscreens, charged extortionate amounts for mediocre coffee, and (unless you luckily happen to be in Asia or Amsterdan), denied even the simplest of luxuries in a relaxing cigarette before your twelve hour flight.

Perhaps if I didn't hate flying quite as much as I do, airports wouldn't be quite as bad, but as I sit here at Southampton terminal waiting for the first of four flights this week (two of which being entirely superfluous - I'm having to fly up to Newcastle in order to catch another flight southbound, straight over my ruddy house in Bournemouth), a cacophony of babies crying and possibly braindead teens ringing in my ears, and a severe case of the sniffles adding to my grumbliness, I can't help but thinking maybe I should have just stayed home.

But then again, I'm finally going on my first holiday in four years, so perhaps it'll be worth it in the end...

If only I could teleport...