The man making announcements at Borough tube this morning sounded just like Derek Griffiths! He was talking about planned engineering works, but I was expecting him to burst into song. Do you remember Derek Griffiths? He used to present children's telly and had a very distinctive sing-songy voice. His "solo vehicle" was a show called Heads and Tails, which, in retrospect, might have been called Heads and Tales, because he was telling stories about animals. Who knows? I never liked that particular show. I thought it was silly. What I do know is that Derek Griffiths was at university with my Dad and in Miss Saigon in the West End with Nathan, so I'm plainly destined to meet him at some point!
I woke up early this morning to the news that Our Gay Wedding had been nominated for a BAFTA award. We won't win, of course. We're up against David Attenborough and our old adversary, Grayson Perry, and he's the darling of all award ceremonies! Still, to have a nomination is incredible. And it's one of those ones awards which generates positive responses. People don't necessarily know what a Grierson is, but they understand the concept of a BAFTA. Matt Lucas called from LA to congratulate us. He's been nominated for seven BAFTAs of course, but I do somehow feel part of a rather special club all of a sudden... Fiona texted to say that there are not many people who can say their wedding has been nominated for a BAFTA, although she'd "seen a few look like they were trying!" I laughed all the way home from the osteopath... (Who has the cold I reckon I gave to him last week...)
I had my hair cut by a Kurd, who used a razor-blade to make me look a little too quaffed for my liking, before coming home to do half a tonne of admin on the various projects I've got coming up: namely two album releases and a promotional film, which needs to be costumed, located, set-dressed and produced. I'm trying not to ask too much help from anyone else; this is, after all, my idea!
This evening, Nathan and I went up to Halfords in Friern Barnet to change a headlight in our car, and buy a few torches which might help with another project I've got going on in the back of my mind. We were served by a wonderful, smiley girl called Peaches, who couldn't have been any more helpful, knowledgeable or enthusiastic. I seem to be witnessing the absolute polar opposites in customer service at the moment. It strikes me that people immediately decide if they want you to have a good experience! The woman at Haringey council whom I spoke to about our having been disenfranchised for a second time wasn't that bothered. It turns out that the borough has two separate electoral rolls, and they use the oldest one as the basis for all their communications. On the newer list we exist. On the older one we don't. The woman whom I spoke to thought my suggestion was a good one; namely that it might make better sense to have just one list. It would certainly waste less paper, fewer stamps and cause considerably less heartache from Haringey residents. She thanked me for my feedback. I told her she was welcome and that if I could assist the borough in avoiding any more unnecessary lawsuits she only needed to ask. When this level of ineptitude is going on, one hardly need ask how both Baby P and Victoria Climbie managed to slip through the cracks in Haringey Council's understanding of their own borough. Let's not forget that this was also the borough who took Nathan and me to court in absentia for not paying a parking ticket which had been sent to the wrong address, along with all the court papers and the bailiff note! And people wonder why it's so easy for immigrants to vanish in the UK!