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Harringay, Haringey - So Good they Spelt it Twice!

Family-run Italian in Bruce Grove gets pizza the action in BBC film
The Song of Lunch airs on BBC Two on October 8 [amended from original post]. It tells the story of book editor, Harry Potter actor Alan Rickman, who meets up with former lover, Emma Thompson, for a lunch at their old haunt "Zanzotti's" 15 years after their break-up.

If they had left the filming a bit later they could have included the inaugural meeting of HarinGAY for some spectacular local colour.

Tags for Forum Posts: haringay, marcos, san

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Heads up for tonight's broadcast of San Marco the Movie. [Original pasted-in blurb had wrong date] 9pm BBC2.

They had to come to Tottenham to find a place that looked like Soho.

blurb from RT: The Song of Lunch Friday 08 October 9:00pm - 9:50pm BBC2

A publisher leaves a Post-It note on his computer screen bearing the words "Gone to lunch" before heading off to meet an old flame at what was once their favourite London restaurant. But it becomes painfully clear to the publisher (Alan Rickman) that everything has changed. The restaurant isn't the casual, noisy Italian with Chianti in raffia bottles it once was, and his old flame (Emma Thompson) isn't the girl he once knew. Both restaurant and ex-lover are sleeker, more sophisticated and emotionally at a remove. The Song of Lunch is a prose poem by award-winning writer Christopher Reid. It's an unusual structure for a drama (the poem is Rickman's interior monologue, though both characters chip in with dialogue), but it works fluidly and beautifully. Reid's writing is gorgeous, and funny whether he's articulating the courtesies of a restaurant visit (he describes catching the waiter's attention as "the demure flutter of restaurant semaphore") or matters of the heart. Throughout The Song of Lunch (shown to mark National Poetry Day) wears its cleverness lightly, and Reid's use of language is a joy.
Look forward to this. The poem is excellently morose:


It’s an ordinary day
in a publishing house
of ill repute.
Another moronic manuscript
comes crashing down the chute
to be turned into art.
This morning it was Wayne Wanker’s
latest dog’s dinner
of sex, teenage philosophy
and writing-course prose.
Abracadabra, kick it up the arse -
and out it goes
to be Book of the Week
or some other bollocks.
What a fraud. What a farce.
And tomorrow: who knows
which of our geniuses
will escape from the zoo
and head straight for us
with a new masterpiece
lifeless in his jaws.
That’s about the size of it.
Pity I don't have a television!
Next time I meet Emma at San Marco's I'll ditch the bloody poem & chianti and stick with the grappa.

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