Paper Edit

It is almost midnight, and I have sat since 10 o’clock this morning working my way steadily through the rushes from our shoot. I’m doing what’s known as a paper edit; deciding which shots we’re going to use, and where. It’s a necessary evil, and we do it so that expensive edit time isn’t wasted spooling blindly through hours and hours of footage. Unfortunately, I should have factored in a rest day between the shoot and the edit because what I’ve been doing for the past 14 hours is no way to spend a day. I didn’t stop for lunch; I ate a bowl of soup whilst staring at my computer. I haven’t had an evening meal. I’m shaking from the caffeine in the hundreds of cups of tea I’ve consumed today. My eyes are square and throbbing. My ears ache from the sounds of wind that accompanies most of the shots. I just want to lie down.

I asked the hotel reception if they were able to do laundry, because I’m running out of socks and pants. They told me with great pride that it was a service they offered. Unfortunately, the cost of having your washing done by the Holiday Inn, is almost prohibitively expensive; £3 for a single pair of socks. I worked out that to have the things washed that I need for the rest of the week, I’d be looking at a bill of close to £50 which is ludicrous, particularly as the BBC would no doubt claim it's not a neccessary expense. So, I went out and bought a bottle of hand-washing  liquid, and my clothes will have to try and dry of their own accord on the back of my complimentary armchair.

350 years ago, Pepys went to Trinity House in Greenwich, before heading to The Wardrobe for dinner with Lady Jemima. I’d love to say there was something more interesting  to write... but there’s not. Even if there was, I wouldn’t write it. My eyes won’t stay open.