Is it grim up North?

I'm on a train, wending my way through the Midlands towards Manchester. I have no idea where we are, and it's incredibly dark outside, so I can't see if there's snow on the ground. I've heard it's very cold up north, however. It always is when I start these film projects. Last year, my trip to Newcastle was accompanied by some of the coldest weather the North East has ever experienced. My first meeting about this project was two years ago, and happened on another snowy day. The latter part of my journey from London to Manchester was terrifying. The city centre was experiencing a white-out and I was weeping as I drove along. I went into a massive spin at one point and simply deserted the car where it came to a halt, somewhere near the pavement, somewhere near the BBC!

I'm excited and nervous because, as ever on these projects, I've no idea who I'm going to meet, what I'm going to write, or what the film is going to be about. All I know is that it will be fabulous! 

I spent the day with Penny in the East End. We're making an application for funding for a performance of the Requiem in a graveyard next September and were talking to Rich Mix about the possibility of their coming on board. They seemed to love the idea, as everyone has, really. This particular work has stirred up so much emotion and imagination. Everyone has a different, yet equally interesting take on how it might be used as the basis for outreach work, or associated projects. I suppose the bottom line is simply that death is inspiring. Perhaps I am also inspiring.

I got to Euston station way too early and the place was rammed with commuters heading home. There was nowhere to sit, so I found myself perching on a little ledge behind the Sock Shop. Periodically, a train would be announced and a terrifying, seemingly endless cluster of people would rush past me in the direction of the platforms. None of them seemed to notice me squatting there at knee height, and they kept knocking my suitcase over without apologising. On one occasion I vanished temporarily underneath a passing coat. It smelt musky and damp, like a gym changing room. The only person who came close to spotting me on my little ledge, merely commented on the paper cup I'd left on my right hand side. "Mind the paper cup, Mum," she said, "it might have something in it." Mum trod on it, and tea squirted onto my trouser leg. 

The man sitting next to me, who I know has seats booked for himself further down the carriage that he "couldn't be bothered to walk to," is coughing like a maniac. Normally I wouldn't be bothered, but having still not entirely got over the whoops, the experience is terrifying me. He's also giving off a huge amount of heat, so  trapped between a radiator under the window and Fuzzy Bear, I feel like a toasted sandwich. 

350 years ago, the Navy office did a trade deal with the East India company. Bombay had just become part of the British Empire as a result of Charles II's union with Catherine de Braganza. 

The Navy crew went to talk to the King about the deal, but there was a major falling out on the way home after Pepys jokingly accused Sir William Batten of only wanting to visit the Three Tuns pub to catch an eyeful, and probably cop a feel of the pretty bar woman there. Not a word was spoken all the way home and their relationship would never fully recover!