The makers of the Iranian rom-com My Favourite Cake should be having their (delicious) cake and eating it, too. Instead, Maryam Moghadam and Behtash Sanaeeha are being punished by the Tehran regime for making a film that depicts a 70-year-old woman drinking alcohol, dancing and not wearing a headscarf, all in her own home. They show real life, a brave thing to do in Iran.
I loved the movie, released last year but which, with my usual timing, I have only just seen. It’s a rom-com for people who are genuinely old — not a tweakment in sight. Anyway, it’s fabulous and there is not even any sexy dancing (as they don’t say on Strictly). For this, the film-makers are banned from travel and face charges of anti-regime propaganda, making a vulgar movie and spreading libertinism (now there’s a word you don’t see much these days).
It cannot be easy for these two, sitting on their sofa in Tehran as the rest of the world gushes about their film. In an interview last month they were asked if they wanted to leave Iran. “It is something you think about on the hardest days, because if you left maybe life will be easier,” Maryam said. “But this is like a war, and on the front in any war, if you leave your side, you lose. You have to be there and fight.” Respect to them.
Duvet days
I cannot stop myself from entering the duvet debate that has been raging (billowing?) on the letters page of The Times, though most of you seem to think duvets are a great thing. When I came to Britain, many decades ago, I could see that duvets were not negotiable. Adapt or die.
This despite their many drawbacks, including the marathon wrestle of getting the cover on and the fact it always gravitates towards one side of the bed. But the real issue is basic: they are too hot. How does anyone sleep under a 13.5 tog duvet without baking? My solution is to use the lightest one possible and treat it like a blanket.
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The other major issue with a duvet is that people seem to think that you don’t need a top sheet. Whoever started that idea was a philistine. There, I’ve said it now.
Carving lives
I visited St Ipployts church in the eponymous village in Hertfordshire this week and found myself sitting among a congregation of face corbels. The church is grade I listed and the masons who carved these stone heads in the 14th century gave most of them great hair, blowing back, as if facing a stiff wind. When I was a child, I used to sit in church and draw the stained glass windows in my mind. How marvellous for those who go to this church to be able to look at these faces and wonder: who are you and what do you think of all this?
Medium dry
I have never understood the idea of Dry January. It seems a ridiculous time to give up anything that lets you pretend things aren’t quite so darn dark. Now I read of a concept, Damp January, where you cut down on alcohol while still drinking it. So you can feel smug — and have a glass of wine. Surely the perfect solution.
Pane threshold
More bedroom news: I came across the word “counterpane” this week and had to look it up. Ornamental bedspread. I suspect these are those flimsy polyester items that slide off hotel beds with such alacrity. I have never heard anyone use the word. It is the antimacassar of the bedroom.
This post was originally published on here
