We went to meet the director of our mystery project in central London today. We met at Brown's on St Martin's Lane and sat at a swanky table, drinking teas and hot chocolates in a shaft of dusty natural light. It was all rather Parisian. Exactly the sort of place to talk about art! Someone should have been smoking Gauloises!
We went to a play reading at lunchtime at the Arts Theatre. It was a gay play, or a "glay" as I like to call them. This one was set in Australia during the Second World War, and then on into the Cold War, when, by all accounts, it got really difficult to be gay in Sydney. The play didn't tell us why that was. It just was. Being gay was awful. We get it. It felt like quite a 1990s piece as a result: commissioned in an era when not everyone knew that gay men were chemically castrated and when, if it was gay, it was fashionable.
There were songs, which felt like improvisations, and the actors reading almost universally looked slightly uncomfortable. One of them had very tiny feet. I hugely applaud the enterprise, however. The only way that new plays are ever going to be put on is if people stage readings like this. So bravo the producers! I'm sure it will be very popular.
I sat in a cafe, finishing the song I've been writing over the last couple of days, which I've decided to sing when the television cameras enter our loft tomorrow morning... At 8am!
I went to the gym in the afternoon and chatted to my gym friend, Raj, who has lost 30lbs in the last three months, simply by giving up drinking coca cola and fizzy pop. Oh, and bread...
Fiona is here tonight. We went down to Sainsbury on the Archway Road, and bought ourselves a little evening feast of mushrooms, vegetarian sausage and halloumi which we ate in front of rubbish TV.
I've got a bit of a cold coming on. Fabulous.