I'm salsa dancing in a little club somewhere near the Oval. I'm rubbish, I'm sweating like a pig and my legs look like little pieces of rubber, but I don't care. It's Julie's birthday and I'm having fun!
I've been in Brighton all day, well Hove, actually, being entertained by Sir Arnold and Lady Wesker. Lady Dusty is a very fine chef indeed, and knocked up a wonderful mushroom risotto, which I ate rather too keenly. She gave us trifle for pudding, which is apparently her trade mark dish. I haven't had a trifle in years and it tasted like forbidden nectar!
Arnold has been my mentor since I left drama school and has taught me a great deal; most importantly never to suffer fools or put up with rudeness. His mentor was George Bernard Shaw. George Bernard Shaw! How extraordinary is that?
Anyway, there's talk of the two of us (Arnold and me, not GBS!) coming together to write another musical to celebrate his 80th birthday. The man has been writing for five decades and I would be deeply proud to work with him again. I am trying to encourage him to write about the second world war...
Victoria station was absolute mayhem earlier. It immediately made me panic. Clueless tourists everywhere, massive queues in the ticket hall and crowds of people trying to filter through the barriers. Very much the stuff of nightmares!
February 12th 1661, and Pepys, after a day of drinking, went to the theatre to see The Scornful Lady... Again... Except this time, and for the first time, the eponymous lead was played by an actual woman, which, unsurprisingly, Pepys much preferred!
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