Truck Fump

Another day of filming starts today. We’re avoiding filming on Fridays and Saturdays because I wouldn’t want any of our faces to feel uncomfortable about being asked to film on Shabbat. As it stands, we have a full house, but for someone born in 1924. I have leads in this regard, but I’ll confess to being slightly concerned.

Of course, the issue is that, the further into the filming we get, the more pressure we end up under if people pull out, so the last day (next Sunday) could well end up like some sort of fight to the death!

I was grateful to have a day away from filming on Friday because it gave me a chance to go into the office and sort out a load of admin. We have five days of filming on the trot now, so there were a lot of people to email and a lot of venues to double-confirm. As it strands, everything is in order. It needs to be because things are bound to go wrong!

I met up with Fiona after work on Friday and we went to the anti-Trump demonstration. Fiona had marched, but I hadn’t made it in time, so went to the rally in Trafalgar Square instead. I didn’t stay long. I just wanted to stand up and be counted really. It was only a gesture, because the man himself was in Windsor so couldn’t hear the booing and jeering. That’s why I was so grateful to the people in Scotland who thwarted his game of golf yesterday with catcalls and out of tune bagpipes.

The rally was incredibly good-natured with some wonderfully inventive placards being waved. I was also pleased to see it hadn’t become a gathering for anyone with radical beef about any old issue. I saw a few Palestinian flags but people were mostly sticking to the brief of letting America know why we don’t want him in this country. A psychopath, so wholly lacking in compassion for the under dog is not welcome here. With any luck, his draconian policies on immigration will prevent him from reentering the States!

I’m sure Theresa May had a ball entertaining him. It’s actually the first time I’ve ever felt sorry for her, but to quote the old man sitting at the bus stop in Finsbury Park just now: “that prime minster of ours. She’s an arsehole.”