Gutted

There are no real words to describe how I’m feeling tonight. I can’t say too much until all avenues have been explored but it seems the film might have been shot in a strange format and this could compromise its quality. All I want to do is curl up in a ball and hide. At the moment it feels like the hundreds of hours we’ve spent on the project might count for nothing and I am gutted. I want to go home and I want a hug but the train to London is too expensive. Besides, inside I know I need to stay up here to try and solve the problem. Unfortunately it’s the weekend and realistically there’s not a great deal to be done until Monday. It’s definitely been a more than depressing day... and to make matters worse, there’s no hot water in my flat, and my hand-washed clothes all smell like sour biscuits.


July 23rd 1660, and Pepys was still sorting things out with his predecessor, Mr Barlow. They went together to see a scrivener in Fenchurch Street, who they found sick with gout, so were forced to ask him to sign their agreement from his bed. Pepys was irritated by the scrivener’s desire to change the wording of the contract in Mr Barlow’s favour. Pepys then went to the Navy office and there took, somewhat cynically, the oath of Allegiance and Supremacy, a sycophantic gesture of support to the King and his religious views. From then on, Pepys ping-ponged his way between the City and Whitehall, drinking in Charing Cross before heading home by boat. He had a merry supper with Elizabeth and his clerk, Will Hewer, who proved to be very “droll”.