Dan Morris: Disney driving, Warhammer wonders, and 'van' I feel like a woman
This week, the great Gary Davies has been standing in for Zoe Ball on Radio 2 and has done a sterling job of getting me grinning. During my car runs into the office he has succeeded magnificently in getting me revved up for the working day with such classic belters as 'Fame', 'You Don't Have To Say You Love Me' (though a great new version from Jack Savoretti) and 'Man, I Feel Like A Woman' (let's go girls...).
Yet one morning in particular he reminded me of the sheer magic of the House of Mouse with a play of the track 'We Don't Talk About Bruno' from Disney's 2021 flick, Encanto.
What a piece of genius. I haven't seen the film (though now will make absolutely sure I do) and within one verse of this song I was dancing my feat dangerously over the peddles, abandoning all control of the car to drum on the horn and singing along at the top of my tenor.
The brilliance of Disney has always been in the songs featured in the studio's flicks. From the devilishly delicious 'Be Prepared' à la The Lion King to the world-breaking 'Let It Go' of Frozen fame, the wonderland of Walt has never failed to deliver spectacularly addictive tunes with every cinematic offering it has put forth. Encanto, it seems, has been no exception – indeed one of my best pals (a proud father of six-year-old twin daughters, and as such, an exceptional authority on such matters) recently described it as the best Disney flick ever made. A viewing this weekend surely beckons. God I love being a lazy thirty-something these days...
Aside from this planned foray into the world of animated cinema, this weekend is set to feature the return of my indulgence in a pastime adored in a previous life. When I was a kid of about eight or nine, the old man and I began model painting. Every week we would make a religious trip to our local branch of Games Workshop – well-known purveyors of fine fantasy miniatures – and indulge in a wonderful bit of geekdom, expanding our collection of weird and wonderful resin warriors, and then taking these home to be given a splash of colour.
Very recently, my dad has converted my old bedroom at his abode into a magnificent man cave, replete with a Marvel mural, a rather fabulous foosball table, a beer fridge, memory foam sofa, and – in a truly genius move – a modelling table.
Today, for the first time in over 20 years, I will be starting my weekend with a bacon sarnie, a brew and a good ole' session of Warhammer painting (other table-top fantasy games are indeed available).
Quite rightly, the missus believes the pair of us to be two of the biggest dorks to currently walk the Earth, but for us this is going to be a wonderful trip back in time to days when for both of us life was less complicated, and revolved more around getting the shading right on the skin of an Ork's bulging bicep than anything as dire as mortgages, medical maladies and matrimonial preparation.
This, dear readers, is going to be the start of a Saturday morning lad and dad renaissance. Though I'm not claiming my painting skills to match those of Michelangelo. Well, maybe the turtle. Opposable thumbs can be a god send...
In other news, there may finally be movement on the horizon on the camper van front. Not content with the majesty of his carefully crafted bloke fortress, my ever-inspirational dad has decided that a second man cave is required, and this one's having wheels. So while I am no closer to realising my recent dream of my own motorhome, good old pop is set on one, and apparently I can pinch it for the odd weekend providing I bring it back with a full tank.
You've got yourself a deal old man. Just expect it to also comeback replete with a Disney jukebox next to the inevitable hot tub, and Shania Twain sat next to me as I belt out my version of her.
Happy weekend folks, and thanks again Mr Davies. Da daaaa da da da, da-daaaa!
