Let it be a joke

I’ve been working all day, and am rewarding myself with an evening of rubbish telly. I’ve just started watching the X factor, and am already screaming at the screen. My favourite act, the alluringly feminine Johnnie, is being mentored by Louis Walsh, and has, as a rather predictable result, been covered in tin foil and surrounded by camp male disco dancers. This is a man with a stunning voice, who has the absolute potential to sing the most moving torch songs with absolute stillness. He’s not just another novelty act, and to dress him up like some kind of 1980s club scene reject, and make him jump about like a freak, is a massive mistake. It was like the worst karaoke in the cheapest bar on Old Compton Street and Johnnie is so much better than that. It’s time to put Louis out to pasture. All the other mentors have chosen material which really bucks the X Factor trend and makes their acts look current and natural. Go Micha!

The cafe this morning was buzzing. It’s so lovely to spend time in a place so close to my house, because it’s started to give me a real sense of my own community. Talk today was of the local man with Tourette’s who wonders up and down the Archway Road delivering lengthy rants at shocked passers-by. His language is apparently beyond all comprehension. I can’t wait to meet him! His favourite haunt, rather horrendously, is the second-hand children’s bookshop on the corner of Southwood Lane. His appearance apparently sends staff members and customers running for their lives. Mothers with children in pushchairs have been seen legging it down the hill with books flying in all directions.

I went to the gym. It was an unpleasant, but necessary evil, and I guess I feel a little better for going. It’s given me carte blanche to stuff my face with food this evening. Captain Caveman here I come!

350 years ago, Pepys ate Colchester oysters with Sir William Batten for lunch, and stayed the afternoon chatting with him. He took Martha Batten, Sir William’s daughter (and Pepys’ Valentine) to the theatre “for a frolique”. What fun! They didn’t stay for very long, didn’t enjoy the play, and everything cost Pepys a small fortune but he didn’t mind. I don't think that was the point of the excercise. I’m not sure what happened to Pepys’ resolution never to go to the theatre unless his wife was present. I guess these resolutions are only made to be broken!