It's very late, and we're both utterly exhausted at the end of a day, which still isn't over! I have parts to transcribe, which I'm pretty sure will take me well into the wee smalls. And then it's up again at 7.30am for another day of filming.
We've been going up and down like yoyos all day. Since 7.30am, really, when we got up this morning.
The day started with my old chum Ted, who was filmed shoving a sausage in a poached egg in a greasy spoon down by Ally Pali.
Wingspan had split their production team in half today, and two whole film crews, filming two separate songs, were floating around in North London. Nathan and I had to oscillate between both filming teams, sometimes together, sometimes apart.
Heaven knows how it happened, but by about 7pm everything we needed to do in terms of pre-shot film packages was in the can, including my little duet with Philippa, which we filmed in her bedroom in Columbia Road. It was a little surreal, but felt incredibly special. Philippa was wearing her old wedding dress and I was wearing the few pieces of my wedding clothes that I already have. The conversation turned very quickly to the old days. The last time Philippa and I acted together was at university in a production of Dangerous Liaisons. I played Valmont and she was Glen Close. My friend Helen came into rehearsals once and took me aside afterwards to say I was the worst actor she'd ever seen. I was so mortified that I instantly pulled out of the show and never acted in anything from that day forward! It's funny what a profound effect a single moment in time can have on you. I have always considered myself to be an awful actor, but when I think back, this entire belief is based on that one incident.
The same is true of many singers. The amount of times someone tells me they can't sing, and when you start to ask why, they reveal that a teacher once told them to mime in the choir, or a parent once said something desperately cruel. I quote my great mentor Arnold Wesker so often in this respect, but he very much hits the nail on the head by saying;
"Never stop anyone from singing. Stop their singing and you stop up their joy."
Anyway, it's odd for me to be in front of a camera. People treat you rather differently when you're the "talent." I don't know if any of the film crew knew I was one of their sort. Relinquishing control and not continually asking to look at the monitor is something I always knew would be hard on this project. It's a very strange thought though. You have to trust so many different people.
The weather added to the surrealness of the occasion. It threw everything at us from golden sunshine to extraordinary hail. I was desperate for the hail to make an appearance, but it wasn't to be. It will, however, remain in my memory for some time.
All hell broke lose right at the end of the shoot when two... Count them... blinking tenors from the choir told us they couldn't do the wedding. They were deps of deps who no doubt threw in the towel when they realised the gig wasn't going to make them rich, but the experience was horrible. Whilst I scored yet more music for the live aspect of the film, Nathan emailed, phoned and begged everyone he knew. We think we're there now, but God knows, it got dark and depressing along the way.
Now Nathan is asleep next to me on the sofa, yet I have no option but to continue to work. There's been a power cut on the street outside, which adds a slight loneliness to the occasion. We'll get there.