Happy endings

I saw a movie last night that made me laugh, cry, seriously lust after Andy Garcia and feel a bit less scared about getting old …

Erm, Book Club.

OK, OK, it’s not going to win any Academy Awards, but I thought it was a little ground breaking in its own fluffy way.

It’s about four women over the age of 60 who are still funny, sexy and vibrant.

That’s not usually how things pan out in Hollywood, where women hit their use-by date as romantic leads around 40. Hence its not what we expect in the real world.

The cinema was full of elderly couples, which I thought might be a mistake on the old blokes’ parts, as the movie is about women who start re-examining their sex lives … or lack thereof … while reading 50 Shades of Grey.

But no one walked out or harrumphed, so maybe I underestimated their open-mindedness.

Andy Garcia was so freaking hawt in it. I’ve since Googled him and he’s 62. He falls in love with Diane Keaton in the movie. She’s 72! So there’s a turn up for ageism. Mind you, Jane Fonda hooks up with Don Johnson – she’s 80 and he’s 68. Whoa, you go girl!

I love that the movie turns the older-man-younger-woman stereotype on its head.

Actually, Andy also swept 72-year-old Cher off her feet in Mamamia 2, so he has form.

It was also a bit wonderful to escape into a movie filled with happy endings for a few hours. The real world tends to be more complicated.

But in the fantasy that is Book Club, Andy Garcia isn’t just hawt, he’s a rich pilot with the most awesome house you’ve ever seen. He’s also totally cool with Diane Keaton being a 72-year-old neurotic mess. In fact, he can’t get enough of her.

Ah, fairytales!

Afterwards, Mel and I went to a fabulous little bar for a couple of glasses of wine and some nibbles – yummy arancini and grilled haloumi – and lots of chitter chat, which isn’t usually how my Tuesday nights go, so it was a fun distraction from my eventful life.

The latest dramas include me heading to Renault yesterday to complain about my lemon AGAIN and the company declaring my car’s voracious consumption of oil is “within manufacturers specification and does not require any further diagnosis. Your vehicles oil consumption is commercially acceptable based on the information in the owner’s manual and advice from the manufacturer.”

Fark ’em. Do you think it’s acceptable for an almost-new car to require a litre of oil every three to six months?

Let me remind you: never, ever buy a Renault Captur, they are shite boxes.

Oh, and I’m heading to the dentist this morning for an emergency appointment. The permanent brace on the back of my front teeth has come unstuck, plus I can still only chew on one side following a mishap with a chicken wrap.

Now THAT didn’t happen in Book Club …

Song of the day: Crowded House “Love this life … Don’t wait till the next one comes”