Hot and wet

No, not the sequel to the Vagina Monologues mentioned in the last edition of Izinsing, but a description of the Singapore climate. I know I've mentioned the weather before, but this reference is more by way of a whimsical musing on the effects of the climate on the individual - in this case, the lovely Chris and myself.

First, the good news. The humidity keeps your skin soft, even if - like me - you are not someone who slathers on body lotion every day. However, the bad news about the good news is that, as soon as you go back to the UK, you feel like a crisp.

The heat also helps with any little rheumaticky twinges that begin to develop with the advance of the years, you can wear summer clothes all year round, swim outdoors every day and never have to worry about the central heating. I have no scientific proof of this next advantage (or disadvantage, depending on your point of view), but I am sure that the tropical climate has the same effect on hair and nails as it does on the lush greenery that surrounds us here.

My hair seems to grow much more quickly here than it did in London, and the same is true of Chris's toenails (probably too much information, that last piece?). Having come to Singapore with short hair, I have now let it grow long enough to do up in a french plait (or pleat, for the Scots among my readership). There comes a point in a woman's life when long hair is just wrong, but I have decided I'm some way off that point, and will continue to ignore the passing of the years as long as it suits me.

Hot and wet could also be a description of some of the movies I have seen over the last week during the Singapore French Film Festival. Most of them will probably never come your way, but it is definitely worth trying to see "Bienvenue chez les Ch'tis" if you get the chance. It is absolutely hilarious - the story of a French postal manager from the south of France who is trying to get a transfer to the Riviera to help his wife's depression. Things go wrong, and he ends up getting transferred to the far north of France instead - the land of the "Ch'tis" of the film's title. When he tells his friends where he is going, they are shocked and sympathetic - believing that he is going to a cold, dark, miserable, hell, full of disused coal mines and drunken inhabitants who speak an incomprehensible dialect. When he gets there of course, it turns out to be somewhat different. I read somewhere that Hollywood is planning to make a US version of the film. Oh dear.

The humour of Bienvenue chez les Ch'tis was not typical of the other festival offerings, alas, and one of them - Le dernier des fous - was just about the saddest film I have ever seen. Unless you are entertained by the progressive collapse of a troubled family culminating in the shooting of mum, dad and grandma by the 10 year old son, I would say this is definitely one to avoid.