I watched Saving Mr Banks the other night. I wasn't looking forward to the film and it certainly wasn't my choice but even so I enjoyed it immensely.


You see I had erroneously been told that it was about the making of Mary Poppins by Mr Walt Disney but in actual fact it was about so much more than that... Within minutes it became clear that it was about the author's own childhood and how she had striven to find a meaning in her father's death, which she had witnessed at an early age. For her, this was not just a story full of light and jollity but instead had the gravitas of a psychological interpretation of how families can be drawn tighter or fall apart or in very rare instances, perform both feats simultaneously.


The real plot of the film as I understood it, was to show a woman writer who was staunch in her belief of how her characters should be portrayed and her writing integrity upheld. At the very end we heard the real voice of the author, her prim, properly enunciated tones allowing or disallowing changes to the manuscript for its celluloid interpretation. It brought a lump to my throat.


We are all so much more than we seem on first glance. Long live Mary Poppins!


P.S. My new novel Split Decisions is now finished. I hope it will be out soon.