kate, do the decent thing

..and give back that Oscar you won for your performance in The Reader - you may be a six-time nominee, but that doesn't give you the right to win the most prestigious gong there is. She didn't really have much to do apart from take her clothes off and look as though she might have been an SS guard in a past life. As a cinematic experience it had so much going for it, with Germany's best actors forming the better part of the cast list. David Kross worked really well as the young Michael Berg, Bruno Ganz, who we last saw acting a deranged Hitler in Downfall, was excellent as the law lecturer, and Burghart Klaußner as the judge was a good turn. It ought to have had a great screenplay, adapted as it was from the novel of the same name by excellent German writer Bernhard Schlink. His Reader has great emotional depth while dealing sensitively with a difficult aspect of the German population's involvement in concentration camps.

I felt the film failed to be a true portrayal of how German's feel about the war, and how they react to it when it comes up in normal conversation or on the news. This is possibly because it used the 'Allo 'Allo technique of presenting foreign languages - in English, with a hammy German accent over the top, especially true in the case of Winslet. Just as the novel works better in German, I felt this film should have been filmed in its original language. It's on location in Berlin, Hamburg and Auschwitz, but for the sake of the two Brits Winslet and Fiennes, and presumably any British backers they had, the film has been made dreadful by distracting accents. There was no real sense of the collective "Schuldfrage", or question of guilt, often used to describe how Germans feel about the war. In the scenes made up entirely of German actors, such as in the university lecture theatre discussing the trial of the female SS guards, the impact was not as powerful.

As far as the 'reading' went however, I enjoyed hearing snippets of my favourite books being read aloud. Lady Chatterley's Lover, Tintin, T.S Eliot's Four Quartets, Huckleberry Finn, The Lady with the Little Dog... It did something for reading at least.

bring me the head of aladdin sane

• Two pots of fabric paint - £5
• 100% cotton PE t-shirt for young boys from Marks & Spencers - £2
• Knowing that my Aladdin Sane t-shirt is not from Topshop - Priceless
  

My previous foray into the world of fabric paint and stencils was not a success, so I'm very pleased with how this turned out. It has thus far survived a very sweaty Late of the Pier crowd last night, though I'm afraid it may all come out in the wash - I ironed and ironed it, but I'm still a bit dubious.

Late of the Pier at the Kentish Town Forum were quite wonderful. There's nothing like a gig to blast the cobwebs out of your brain and get those toes a-tapping. Their set closer was Focker, a riotous affair that even managed to coax the ever-present middle-aged stationary stalwarts into doing a little more than nodding their heads sagely (they've seen it all before of course).

"We journalists make it a point to know very little about an extremely wide variety of topics; this is how we stay objective."

The written word, and more specifically journalism, has always held great intrigue for me, but I am beginning to feel that I have chosen the wrong profession to aspire to. In September I will turn up at university with my collected works of Shakespeare other various tomes by the authors of the past millenium who are thought worth remembering, and spend three years of my life in the festering quagmire of words and criticism that is a degree in English Literature. And for what? Looking at the letters page in today's papers, it seems like every English graduate from Oxford to Aberdeen has left university and found themselves applying for the lowest of journalism posts with 500 other graduates desperate for work - and invariably, they've either failed or only managed to find unpaid internships. Now don't get me wrong, I definitely didn't want to become a journalist for the money, but somehow it's a future that is becoming less and less appealing as readership of newspapers with any intellectual integrity falls year on year (and yes, I am a snob in this respect having met the editor of a certain bile-filled red-top and found that he truly believes that the readers of his rag have the mental capacity of rocks). Junk journalism is like junk food - it's the easy alternative, and addictive. The sleaziness of the world of journalism, the hypocritical culture of double-think - "Buy our paper! But we're better people than you!" - is a surely a sign that something is wrong.

Why can't we return to the journalism of old? Roving reporters, ranks of telephones, exciting, chaotic newsrooms. I could bypass my worries about the future and morality of the world of journalism today by simply becoming a photographer, in the vein of Vicki Vale...

My own box camera, superhero boyfriend, fiery red perm and mint green suit wouldn't go amiss either.

"in life as in dance, grace glides on blistered feet"

Are we so petty that we will begrudge our inner-child's delight at the most snow since 1988? Calm down Britain. I've spent two weeks doing not much apart from biting my nails and feeling anxious, but the snow offered a literal and figurative clean slate. I'm even doing some ballet again. Since my studio burnt down in December and my class moved to an evening I can't do, I've been really missing it. It seemed like such a futile end to years of hard work and commitment; ballet was the one area of my life where I'd really done my best. An arson attack on the carpet storage factory next to my studio is a ridiculous but oddly mundane end to a 15 year career, having worked up from the good-toes-naughty-toes level aged 3, to taking grade 7 next term. Qué sera sera?

There's nothing to stop me admiring ballet from afar however. I saw Matthew Bourne's Edward Scissorhands a few weeks ago, and although it didn't quite capture the effervescent atmosphere of the film, it was very well danced. Matthew Bourne's focus on the male choreography is refreshing, as men tend to play the part of wimpy love interest in ballets, whose only function is to do various lifts. Seeing a man dressed in a complex costume with scissors strapped to his hands dance that well is a sight to behold.

I really enjoyed the other costumes too. It had the same 50s vibe as the film, the characterisation of the neighbourhood was great.

Next on my list to see are Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake, which I first glimpsed in Billy Elliot and have had a minor obsession with ever since, and La Sylphide, which much of the grade 7 syllabus was based on - very romantic, soft arms rather than stiff, with romantic long skirts. I think the huge tulle tutus are nice, but the longer ones make all the movement more flowing.

Above photos: 1. Swan Lake 2,3. La Sylphide 4. Copellia 5. Swan Lake