Watched Carrington last night, with Emma Thompson in the lead role of the British painter who had a passion for gay Bloomsbury writer Lytton Strachy despite the fact she seemed to have an active sex life of her own.
Since the Brits do these sorts of things so well, it's worth watching, sort of like visiting the reptile house at the zoo. I don't mean they were repulsive reptiles, just terribly exotic, those early 20th Century bohemians.
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