“It has already started,” said Chris, “but it’s recording so I can take it back to the beginning. By the looks of it they are some kind of super-heroes in this re-make.”

“Oh dear,” I thought, but kept it to myself because nobody wants to be perceived as a misery, especially as I had been home only a week from my solo trip to Australia.

Despite my reservations, I was, as always, a dutiful wife; and, in preparation for a bit of excitement (even though I was tired and not quite back in tune with English time), I took my usual place on the sofa. Chris sat on the edge of his seat whilst I cuddled up with cushions under a warm duvet.

If I remember rightly, the opening scene was set by a canal in Venice… Suddenly, there was a swirling in the water and someone in a suit of armour arose from the vortex. Like a whirling Dervish he spun with his Japanese sword drawn and saw off a host of soldiers.

“It’s not like the old ‘ Three Musketeers then – ” I offered, “the Michael York and Raquel Welch version.”

“It is strange – isn’t it?” Chris remarked by way of agreement.

“But Matthew Macfadyen never looked so handsome,” I observed as the actor took off his helmet to reveal a well-made up face with a beard and flowing locks.

“Quite,” said Chris. (My husband hates it whenever I make such observations about other men – especially pilots!)

After ten more minutes of swashbuckling (and a little catnapping on my part) I turned to Chris and asked:

“Did you read the book?”

“I don’t think it’s what Alexandre Dumas had in mind,” he laughed.

“I didn’t even like the original ‘ Three Musketeers, with Michael York,” I said (now feeling free to be as disparaging as I wished), “But I liked Michael York…”

“Let’s switch it off then and try something new. I bought a load of good films while you were away.”

Some time later, after much face-pulling on my part, we agreed upon the film, “Of Mice and Men”, based on the book of the same name by John Steinbeck. Because it is such an important book about the reality, and the hopes and aspirations, of people during Great Depression in California, we considered the film a “must see”.

After much face-pulling, spittle-producing and talk of tending rabbits, on the part of simple-minded Lenny (played by John Malkovich) I’m afraid I fell asleep. At one point I awoke to see the not-so-gentle giant break the arm of nasty ranch worker Curly; and, at another point  of consciousness, I just knew that Lenny would accidentally maul to death the puppy he loved (heaven help the rabbits he dreamed of tending!). At last, again I aroused from my slumbers, this time to catch Curly’s wife enticing Lenny with an offer to let him stroke her soft hair. I wanted to warn and remind her about the incident with the puppy but… Well, you probably know that she succumbs to the same fate as the little dog. With all the ranch hands armed and out looking for the oft times simpering rabbit lover with the funny high-pitched voice, his cousin and protector, George, finds him first and shoots him in the back of the head.

“That was a barrel of laughs,” I said.

“Let’s play a game of backgammon next time I suggest watching a film,” Chris answered wryly.