10 Comfort Films I Could Watch Forever - #3 The Price of Milk

 

Sometimes the best films are the ones that leave you wondering, "What on earth did I just watch?"

That's exactly how I felt after watching The Price of Milk for the first time.

I only discovered it around two years ago, and if I'm being completely honest, I watched it for one very simple reason: Karl Urban. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and I certainly didn't expect it to become one of my favourite comfort films.

Since then, I've watched it more than sixty times.

If I had to describe The Price of Milk in one word, it would simply be bonkers. It's whimsical, surreal, romantic, frustrating and unlike anything else I've ever seen. It's the kind of film that refuses to fit neatly into one genre, and I think that's exactly why I love it.

Beneath all of its surreal moments, though, I think the film is really about miscommunication.

So much of the story happens because people don't quite say what they're thinking. Feelings are left unsaid, assumptions grow, and imagination fills in the gaps until it becomes difficult to separate fear from reality. The film shows just how powerful our own minds can be, especially when we let our insecurities take over.

That's one of the reasons I relate so much to Lucinda.

She's insecure in her relationship, she overthinks, and she allows her imagination to run away with her. I understand that. I know what it's like when your own thoughts create distance that wasn't really there to begin with. Watching Lucinda isn't always comfortable, but it feels honest.

One of the most heartbreaking moments for me is when she looks at Drosophila through the window. It's such a quiet scene, but you can feel the emotional distance that's developed between them. There's no dramatic confrontation. Just two people who suddenly feel much further apart than they really are.

The film isn't all sadness, though.

The bathtub scene never fails to make me smile. It's wonderfully strange, perfectly fitting the film's dreamlike atmosphere, and reminds me not to take everything quite so seriously.

One of the things I admire most about The Price of Milk is that it never explains itself. It trusts the audience.

It leaves questions unanswered. It doesn't tell you exactly what the symbolism means or how you're supposed to interpret every moment. Instead, it invites you to think, to analyse, and to come to your own conclusions. I think that's why the film is so rewarding to revisit. Every viewing feels slightly different because I'm slightly different each time I watch it.

Because of that, I don't recommend it to everyone.

It's a very particular kind of film. If someone enjoys magical realism, symbolism, quirky romance, and stories that leave room for interpretation, then I think they'll probably love it. But if someone prefers films that explain every plot point and tie everything together neatly, this probably isn't the right choice.

If someone finished the film and looked at me saying, "What on earth did I just watch?" I'd probably smile and tell them that's exactly the right feeling to have.

I don't think The Price of Milk is a film that's meant to be completely understood.

I think it's meant to be experienced.

That's why I keep coming back to it. Not because I find all the answers, but because every time I watch it, I discover a new question.

Self-Care Sunday

 Miqura Glow Care
Vitamin C

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Glitter Face Sheet Mask 
Glow Boosting & Moisturising

Today’s little bit of self-care is a Vitamin C glitter face sheet mask from Miqura Glow Care. It promises to be glow-boosting, moisturising and rejuvenating — but, admittedly, I mostly picked it because it’s gold and glittery. Sometimes that is reason enough. 

I’m trying to get better at making Sundays feel a little slower and actually taking time to look after myself. Self-care doesn’t always need to be productive or some huge wellness routine. Sometimes it can literally just be putting on a ridiculous sparkly face mask, getting comfortable and doing absolutely nothing for a while.

So that’s the plan for today: gold face, comfy clothes, something good to watch and zero expectations. 

Happy Self-Care Sunday 

5 Comfort Series I Could Watch Forever - #2 Beverly Hills 90210

There are some television series you enjoy.

Then there are the ones that quietly become part of your life.

For me, Beverly Hills, 90210 will always be one of those series.

I grew up watching the reruns on television every single day. It became part of my routine, and all these years later, not much has changed. I still watch the entire series twice a year, every year.

If I had to describe Beverly Hills, 90210 in one word, it would simply be drama.

Not because it's over-the-top, but because every character is constantly dealing with life. Relationships, family, addiction, eating disorders, money, friendships, betrayal, grief and growing up. It wasn't afraid to tackle difficult subjects, and I honestly think 90s television often handled taboo topics better than many modern series do.

The storylines weren't always perfect, but they were willing to ask difficult questions.

They trusted the audience.

One of the reasons I've always loved 90210 is that it never felt like every character had to be perfect. They made mistakes, hurt each other, apologised, fell out and grew up.

Steve Sanders is probably the best example of that.

When the series begins, he's immature, impulsive and often thinks about himself first. By the time the series ends, he's become one of the most loyal and dependable people in the group. His character development is one of my favourites in television.

My favourite characters, however, have always been Gina Kincaid and Valerie Malone.

They aren't the obvious choices, and maybe that's exactly why I love them.

Both arrive as outsiders. Neither finds it easy to fit into the group, and both spend much of the series being judged before they're truly understood. I think that's something I've always connected with.

Gina in particular has always had a special place in my heart. One of the most emotional moments in the series for me is when she opens up to David about her eating disorder. For all her confidence and sharp edges, that scene reminds us how vulnerable she really is.

Years ago I even sent Vanessa Marcil a message telling her how much I loved Gina as a character. To my surprise, she replied with a kiss emoji. It was only a tiny interaction, but as someone who's admired her performance for years, it genuinely made me smile.

One of my favourite friendships in the series is Steve and Brandon.

They're completely different people and they don't always agree. They argue, annoy each other and challenge each other, which is exactly why their friendship feels so believable. Real friendships aren't built on always agreeing. They're built on staying friends despite disagreements.

The Peach Pit deserves a mention too.

To me, it isn't just a diner.

It's home.

It's family.

It's comfort.

No matter what was happening in everyone's lives, sooner or later they always found their way back there. That's exactly how the series feels to me now.

Looking back as an adult, I think one of my favourite long-running themes is watching these privileged teenagers slowly realise that life isn't simply handed to them. They have to work, make mistakes, take responsibility and figure out who they want to become.

That's a lesson that never gets old.

If I had to choose one episode to rewatch over and over again, it would be Season 9, Episode 1. It has everything I love about the series. The drama, the humour and all of the complicated relationships that keep pulling me back.

I know Beverly Hills, 90210 isn't for everyone.

Some people will see it as dated.

Others will think it's just another teen drama.

But for me, it's so much more than that.

It's the series that grew up with me.

It comforted me through breakups, helped me feel less alone during my own struggles with eating disorders, and has been there through different stages of my life.

Every time I press play, it feels like visiting old friends.

And after all these years, that's exactly what Beverly Hills, 90210 has become.

Home.

10 Comfort Films I Could Watch Forever - #2 God Help the Girl

Some films entertain you for two hours and then quietly leave your mind. Others stay with you for years.

God Help the Girl is one of those films for me.

I first watched it when I was around twenty years old. Back then it was available on Netflix, during a time when it felt like the platform was full of wonderfully niche and slightly unconventional films. I actually pressed play because of the cast. I'd loved Hannah Murray and Olly Alexander in Skins, and I've always enjoyed Emily Browning's work, so it felt like an easy choice.

I had no idea it would become one of my all-time favourite films.

Since then, I've watched it one to three times every month, and I still listen to the soundtrack several times a week. It's become part of my routine in a way very few films ever have.

If I had to describe God Help the Girl in one word, it would probably be "Preposterous." If you've seen the film, you'll know exactly why.

On the surface, it's a musical about three young people trying to figure out life. Underneath, it's about mental health, identity, friendship, creativity, and discovering that healing isn't always dramatic. Sometimes it's found in conversations, in music, and in finding people who understand you.

Eve has always been the character I relate to the most. I recognise her struggles, but I also recognise how important music is to her. It isn't just something she enjoys; it's how she processes the world around her. That has always resonated with me.

One of my favourite moments in the entire film is when Eve's therapist explains the triangle of health. It's such a simple scene, but it has stayed with me for years. It quietly reminds us that looking after ourselves isn't just about one thing. Physical health, mental health, and our relationships all influence one another, and real recovery is rarely as straightforward as we'd like it to be.

I also appreciate that the film doesn't try to present mental illness as something neat and easily solved. Parts of it feel realistic, while other parts feel symbolic, almost dreamlike. That balance is one of the reasons it works so well for me. It allows difficult subjects to exist alongside warmth, humour and beautiful music without making light of them.

The soundtrack deserves just as much praise as the story itself. I still listen to it regularly, and Come Monday Night remains my favourite song. Even outside the film, the music has a life of its own. It's the kind of soundtrack that stays with you long after the credits have finished rolling.

James is another character I've come to appreciate more over the years. I think he's often misunderstood because he's so private. In many ways, he becomes whatever Eve and Cassie see in him, while his own personality remains just out of reach. That mystery makes him one of the film's most interesting characters.

The setting matters too. Glasgow isn't just a backdrop; it feels like another character. I honestly can't imagine this story taking place anywhere else.

Interestingly, I don't recommend God Help the Girl to everyone. It's a gentle, slow-paced film that isn't trying to please a wide audience. I usually only suggest it to people who I think will appreciate its quieter storytelling and its willingness to explore difficult subjects without shouting about them.

When people ask why I keep returning to this film after all these years, I don't think it's because it's a musical, or because of the cast, or even because of the soundtrack.

It's because of how it makes me feel.

Accepted.

For me, God Help the Girl is a reminder that you don't have to have everything figured out. You can be struggling, creative, uncertain, hopeful and still deserving of kindness. Few films have ever made me feel that as gently as this one has.

That's why, all these years later, I still find myself pressing play.

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5 Comfort Series I Could Watch Forever - #1 Happy Valley

Whenever someone asks me for a British crime series recommendation, my answer is almost always the same.

Happy Valley.

I first watched it when I was around twenty-five. I've always loved British crime dramas, so it felt like an obvious choice. What I didn't expect was that it would become one of my biggest comfort series.

Since then, I've watched the entire series at least thirty times.

If I had to describe Happy Valley in one word, it would be resilience.

At first glance, it's a police drama set in West Yorkshire. But underneath the investigations and the crime, it's a story about people. About grief, family, addiction, trauma, forgiveness and, perhaps most importantly, what we choose to do with the lives we've been given.

For me, Happy Valley isn't really about catching criminals.

It's about wasted lives.

Catherine even says it herself when she's talking to Richard. That's the story she thinks should be written, and I couldn't agree more.

Tommy Lee Royce wastes his life through violence.

Claire loses years to addiction before trying to rebuild.

Ryan spends his childhood trying not to become the man everyone expects him to be.

Even Catherine, in many ways, wastes years trapped inside her grief and her anger before finally allowing herself to think about living again. One of my favourite moments in the final season isn't a dramatic confrontation. It's Catherine talking about driving to the Himalayas. For the first time in years, she's looking forwards instead of backwards.

That's incredibly powerful.

Of course, none of this would work without Catherine Cawood.

She is one of the greatest television characters ever written.

She's driven, fiercely loyal, funny without trying to be, and completely unafraid of standing up to anyone. I love every scene where she completely ignores her bosses and does what she knows is right.

She's also one of the few characters who makes me feel both comfortable and slightly terrified at the same time.

If I needed help, I'd want Catherine on my side.

If I was doing something stupid, I definitely wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of one of her lectures.

More than anything, though, I admire her. She's the sort of person I wish had been in my life growing up. A mum. A friend. Someone who would tell you the truth while never giving up on you.

People often talk about Tommy Lee Royce as one of television's greatest villains, and I agree. But I don't think he'd be nearly as fascinating without Catherine. She's the reason we care so much about him. Everything he does is measured against the impact it has had on her family and everyone around her.

I also don't think Tommy was simply born evil.

The series hints at his upbringing, his absent father and his mother's addiction. It doesn't excuse his actions, and it certainly doesn't ask us to forgive him, but it does remind us that people are shaped by the environments they grow up in. That idea runs throughout the entire series.

That's something I appreciate about Happy Valley. It refuses to deal in stereotypes.

Addiction is shown as an illness rather than a moral failing. Catherine struggles to forgive Claire for taking Ryan to see Tommy, but when Claire relapses, Catherine understands. She knows addiction isn't always a choice. It's a small but important distinction, and it's one of many reasons the series feels so authentic.

The realism is what keeps bringing me back.

I've never really thought of Happy Valley as a dark series. To me, it's simply a brilliant crime drama about ordinary people dealing with very real situations. Nobody reacts the same way. Nobody fits neatly into the role of hero or villain.

Even Catherine doesn't.

She's a hero to some people and a villain to others.

That's exactly why she feels real.

If I had to choose one episode to watch over and over again, it would be Season 2, Episode 1. It's funny, tense and everything I love about the series rolled into a single episode.

And when the final credits rolled on Season 3, I felt two emotions at the same time.

Sad that it was over.

Grateful that we got a final season at all.

There was such a long wait between seasons that it almost didn't feel real when it returned, and somehow it managed to end exactly as it should have.

I wouldn't recommend Happy Valley to everyone.

But if you love British crime dramas that are more interested in people than plot twists, I can't recommend it enough.

For me, it isn't just one of the greatest crime series ever made.

It's one of the most human.

10 Comfort Films I Could Watch Forever - #1 Ghost World

I first watched Ghost World back in 2009 after borrowing it from my local library. I knew absolutely nothing about it. The cover caught my eye, I took it home, and I fell in love with it almost instantly.

Since then, I've probably watched it once or twice every month. Most people have a comfort film they return to every few years. Mine is Ghost World. It's become one of those films that feels like home.

It's difficult to explain why. The soundtrack is a huge part of it, but it's also the atmosphere, the quietness, and the way the story unfolds. It's not a film driven by action or big dramatic moments. Instead, it's built on awkward conversations, uncomfortable silences, and all the things happening between the lines. Every time I watch it, I notice something new.

As I've grown older, the film has grown with me.

When I first watched it as a teenager, I related to Enid because she never seemed to fit in anywhere. Watching it now in my thirties, I still understand Enid, but I also understand Rebecca's desire to build a life and move forward. And then there's Seymour, whose love of music and lack of self-worth make him one of the most quietly tragic characters in the film.

I don't think any of them are meant to be perfect. They're just lonely in different ways.

One of the reasons I love Ghost World so much is that it never tells you exactly what to think. It trusts its audience. If you watch it expecting constant plot twists, you might walk away wondering what everyone else sees in it. But if you pay attention to the small moments—the expressions, the pauses, the conversations that never quite say what they mean—there's an incredible amount beneath the surface.

There are still scenes that make me laugh no matter how many times I've seen them. Josh discovering the note left for him is comedy gold, and Seymour's complete discomfort in the adult shop never fails to make me smile. The humour feels awkward, human and wonderfully understated.

Then there's the ending.

It's one of those endings that people have debated for years. My own interpretation has always been that Enid gets on the bus because she can't cope with growing up. I see it as the moment she chooses to leave the world behind. Whether that's what the filmmakers intended or not almost doesn't matter. That's what the ending has always meant to me, and it's the scene that stays with me long after the credits roll.

Maybe that's why I keep coming back to Ghost World. It doesn't give me all the answers. It lets me bring my own experiences to it, and those experiences have changed over the years. The film hasn't changed, but I have.

For me, Ghost World isn't just a coming-of-age film. It's a film about loneliness, identity, friendship, and trying to find your place in a world that doesn't always make sense. It's subtle, melancholy, funny, and strangely comforting.

Seventeen years after I picked it up from a library shelf, it's still the film I reach for when I need to feel at home.