Em Brulee applying eye make-up at last night's gig!
Today's been one of those days that feels like it's lasted forever: one of those days when you think about what you were doing in the morning, and it feels like a lifetime ago.
My day started in York with breakfast in the Travelodge. Fortunately, it was a classy Travelodge, with an actual breakfast bar, rather than one of their ghastly "breakfast packs" which are crammed full of things no one would ever want to eat. I had beans on toast.
The journey home was pleasant enough. I inadvertently chose a nice modern train with a chess board drawn into the table that I was sitting at. Sadly, I didn't have any chess pieces, or I might have challenged myself to a game. The journey was only slightly spoilt by a faint aroma of drains which drifted through the carriage as we passed through the Grantham area.
In London I had a meeting at Shoreditch House with Ryan and Julian. We have a very interesting idea for a TV series, which got us all quite excited. I do loathe Shoreditch House, however. I loathe the concept and I loathe the pretentious wannabes and never-weres that seem to hang out there, and the way the ghastly staff look down their noses at you if you're not famous.
We ended up in a park off Brick Lane eating beigels, which was much more my cup of tea.
I drifted to Liverpool Street station via the Spitalfields district, and found myself walking alongside Gilbert from Gilbert and George for some time. I say Gilbert. It could have been George. They're like Ant and Dec. No one knows which is which. Doctors often say they get bored of people coming up to them to whinge about their many ailments, but spare a thought for Gilbert. In the 2 or so streets where the speed we were walking fell into sync, at least 3 people ran up to him, one to show him the colours on a leaf he'd just found!
Then I imagined how much "spontaneous" singing Simon Cowell must hear every time he walks down a street and remembered once being mobbed by a group of 16 year-old girls when I was with Matt, which has to be one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life.
This evening I was lucky enough to be taken to the first night of the proms by Ellie. I am not a regular prommer, and forget what an exciting experience it is to be in the glorious Albert Hall, when it's filled to the rafters with expectancy.
The concert was great, with full marks going to the timpani player in the Mass. He was extraordinary theatrical and obviously highly talented and I was very disappointed that he wasn't given his own bow at the end. He must have lost half a stone as he beat the living daylights out of those kettle drums!
I was also amused by the antics of the promenaders in the bear pit. Ellie, as a radio 3 producer and regular prommer, was wise to every trick they played. As the piano was wheeled onto the stage for the Liszt concerto she said, "oh God, they're going to do the heave ho." And sure enough, as the stage hands lifted the piano lid, everyone in the stalls shouted "heave" in unison, and then everyone in the gallery echoed "ho"! I love puerile British humour. I wonder if these are the same people who turn up to Andy Murray matches and shout "come on Tim!"