I'm on the newly refurbished Northern Line platform at Tottenham Court Road. I use the word refurbished with a pinch of salt. The walls are barely plastered and the whole place looks distinctly unfinished. It's either some form of shabby-industrial-chic statement, or the money/ time ran out and this was the best they could do!
Another day spent in the bowels of BBC Television Centre. I haven't seen anything like enough daylight. I've also eaten rather too much canteen food, so feel bloated and tired.
Matt's show was brilliant tonight. The guests were Louis Walsh, Jermaine Greer and Clive Anderson, and the humour bubbled up really nicely without anyone trying too hard. All the guests came across as genuinely nice people, so I was a little disappointed to be slightly snubbed by Professor Greer afterwards.
She'd announced to the audience that she lived on Junction 9 of the M11, which is just north of Thaxted, so afterwards I sidled over, announced that I'd been doing autocue, and mentioned that my parents lived in Thaxted. "Oh" she said, imagining, I'm sure, that I'd crawled out from a slimy pit and was going to request her autograph. Her tone was so dismissive that I instantly felt ashamed and started to burble. "Is that close to you?" I asked. She looked over my shoulder, "Thaxted is south" she said, "at junction 8." "Yes" I said, "but it can't be that far away. Which village are you in?" There was a stunned silence, like I'd just asked for her age, followed by her bra size. I felt even sillier and burbled on... "you must live near Saffron Walden, or Duxford, or something like that?" "Something like that" she said, and nodded and moved on to the man behind me, painting a glorious smile across her face because he was a somebody, and to her, I was a nobody. Quite why she didn't have enough charm to say, "isn't Thaxted beautiful" or ask if I'd grown up in the area, I've no idea.
I hope one day that someone will make her feel as silly as she made me feel.
December 1st, 1661 was a Sunday, and Pepys entertained an old university friend whilst Elizabeth went to church. They ate Braun and "rare" gherkins, drank a great deal of wine and gossiped about politics. Pepys referred to the bad treatment of the "poor cavillers" during the interregnum. Turn coat!
Thursday, 1 December 2011
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Jerry Jerry
I learned today that Jerry Springer was born on the platform of Highgate tube during the blitz. I consider this to be an interesting fact. Highgate Station celebrated its 70th birthday earlier on this year and there was a little poster on display with all sorts of (mostly semi) interesting facts which I'd not noticed before. If only I'd've known. I'd have written something celebratory!
I spent much of the today rushing around London. I went to St Mary's Church to return the keys, and thank them for having us, before meeting Rupert at Victoria Station to return a suitcase which Hilary had left in the church after the gig.
The suitcase obviously wanted to live in the church, because I managed to leave it there a second time. I was back on the tube before I noticed, and had to do the mother of all detours. I was terrified that I'd return to find the bag fenced off, about to be detonated by an anti-terrorism squad!
I had a meeting with James Davey in Victoria about the project I'm doing with the Fleet Singers in Belsize Park. We now have a much clearer sense of what's going to happen. The commission celebrates the Diamond Jubilee, and we're going to look at some of the memories the choir have collected over the last 60 years, which I think could be charming.
We're now off to Thaxted, essentially to borrow my parents' car. I have a gig in Birmingham teaching people to sing on Friday, and Nathan needs the car, so, yet again, my parents have stepped up to the plate.
Philippa just 'phoned to say she's had every last piece of jewellery stolen by her cleaner, who's subsequently vanished off the face of the earth. She apparently cleaned houses for a large number of the mothers Philippa hangs out with, and many of them were robbed in the same week. It's an horrific thought. This woman cleaned houses for some of them for over two years and had come hugely recommended. It seems very strange that she would suddenly go off the rails so dramatically. I can only think she had some major life crisis which, required a large injection of cash and couldn't think what else to do. Very sad for everyone, really.
350 years ago, Pepys reported that various coins that had been issued and used during the Interregnum had been taken out of official circulation. In one of his regular end-of-month summing ups, he reported to be in good health (but for a little cold) yet still worried that he was "vainly" spending too much money.
I spent much of the today rushing around London. I went to St Mary's Church to return the keys, and thank them for having us, before meeting Rupert at Victoria Station to return a suitcase which Hilary had left in the church after the gig.
The suitcase obviously wanted to live in the church, because I managed to leave it there a second time. I was back on the tube before I noticed, and had to do the mother of all detours. I was terrified that I'd return to find the bag fenced off, about to be detonated by an anti-terrorism squad!
I had a meeting with James Davey in Victoria about the project I'm doing with the Fleet Singers in Belsize Park. We now have a much clearer sense of what's going to happen. The commission celebrates the Diamond Jubilee, and we're going to look at some of the memories the choir have collected over the last 60 years, which I think could be charming.
We're now off to Thaxted, essentially to borrow my parents' car. I have a gig in Birmingham teaching people to sing on Friday, and Nathan needs the car, so, yet again, my parents have stepped up to the plate.
Philippa just 'phoned to say she's had every last piece of jewellery stolen by her cleaner, who's subsequently vanished off the face of the earth. She apparently cleaned houses for a large number of the mothers Philippa hangs out with, and many of them were robbed in the same week. It's an horrific thought. This woman cleaned houses for some of them for over two years and had come hugely recommended. It seems very strange that she would suddenly go off the rails so dramatically. I can only think she had some major life crisis which, required a large injection of cash and couldn't think what else to do. Very sad for everyone, really.
350 years ago, Pepys reported that various coins that had been issued and used during the Interregnum had been taken out of official circulation. In one of his regular end-of-month summing ups, he reported to be in good health (but for a little cold) yet still worried that he was "vainly" spending too much money.
It's 11.30pm, and I'm on my way back from the BBC in White City, wondering if I'll make it above ground in time to post this blog before midnight. I've been at Television Centre doing autocue for Matt Lucas' new TV chat show. It's one of the last comedy programmes they're ever going to make within this iconic building; a fact which makes me feel a little sad. What child of the 1970s doesn't remember Roy Castle tap-dancing around the doughnut in the middle of the complex, or Terry Wogan whinging about the BBC canteen food. I remember sitting there as a teenager, about to perform with the Northamptonshire Youth Orchestra on Blue Peter, my stomach knotted with excitement.
Yet soon the place will be nothing but a few listed buildings rented out by all sorts of non-BBC organisations. Children's telly and sport have already migrated to Salford, and everything else is moving to newer premises down the road within the next few months.
I feel quite honoured to be doing the job. It was my first day today. I was fairly nervous this morning, but got into my stride relatively quickly and everything went smoothly. I feel tired, having been too excited to sleep, for many reasons, last night, but elated after a good day's work.
Guests on Matt's show included Maureen Lipman and Julian Clary, who was in the cast of Taboo, so it was lovely to see him again. He seemed confused to find me running the autocue, as he would no doubt also have been to discover I was a composer! I was very firmly wearing my director's hat when we last worked together.
I forget how much I like doing autocue. It's quite an adrenaline-fuelled experience. If you disengage your brain for even a second, you end up making terrible mistakes and potentially making the presenter look like a fool. I've done some terrible things in the past, which include royally shafting Jeremy Vine on an outside broadcast for an episode of Newsnight from the Tory Party conference in Blackpool. In my defence, the equipment broke down. That particular disaster wasn't a lapse of judgement on my part, but there have been plenty more where I was guilty as hell. I once did Charles Kennedy's autocue and wrote Mrs Quim instead of Mrs Quinn.
Ten years ago, I did this kind of work a fair amount, and I can even claim to have been in demand! I've done autocue for all sorts of people including Brucie and Tony Blair (at Downing Street of all places.)
So much for my week of doing nothing. I have countless meetings tomorrow, am working on Thursday and Friday, and then am off to Manchester next week to start my next film project up there.
Talk about a roller coaster!
350 years ago, Pepys went to wait on the Duke of York, but ended up feeling ignored and useless, unable to make much impact on the conversation or offer any advice to help the Navy situation. Typical Pepys immediately went to buy books to improve his mind.
He also went to the theatre. The cheap seats were so crowded, however, that he was forced to shell out for a box... And a very rubbish play!!!
Yet soon the place will be nothing but a few listed buildings rented out by all sorts of non-BBC organisations. Children's telly and sport have already migrated to Salford, and everything else is moving to newer premises down the road within the next few months.
I feel quite honoured to be doing the job. It was my first day today. I was fairly nervous this morning, but got into my stride relatively quickly and everything went smoothly. I feel tired, having been too excited to sleep, for many reasons, last night, but elated after a good day's work.
Guests on Matt's show included Maureen Lipman and Julian Clary, who was in the cast of Taboo, so it was lovely to see him again. He seemed confused to find me running the autocue, as he would no doubt also have been to discover I was a composer! I was very firmly wearing my director's hat when we last worked together.
I forget how much I like doing autocue. It's quite an adrenaline-fuelled experience. If you disengage your brain for even a second, you end up making terrible mistakes and potentially making the presenter look like a fool. I've done some terrible things in the past, which include royally shafting Jeremy Vine on an outside broadcast for an episode of Newsnight from the Tory Party conference in Blackpool. In my defence, the equipment broke down. That particular disaster wasn't a lapse of judgement on my part, but there have been plenty more where I was guilty as hell. I once did Charles Kennedy's autocue and wrote Mrs Quim instead of Mrs Quinn.
Ten years ago, I did this kind of work a fair amount, and I can even claim to have been in demand! I've done autocue for all sorts of people including Brucie and Tony Blair (at Downing Street of all places.)
So much for my week of doing nothing. I have countless meetings tomorrow, am working on Thursday and Friday, and then am off to Manchester next week to start my next film project up there.
Talk about a roller coaster!
350 years ago, Pepys went to wait on the Duke of York, but ended up feeling ignored and useless, unable to make much impact on the conversation or offer any advice to help the Navy situation. Typical Pepys immediately went to buy books to improve his mind.
He also went to the theatre. The cheap seats were so crowded, however, that he was forced to shell out for a box... And a very rubbish play!!!
Autocue
It's 11.30pm, and I'm on my way back from the BBC in White City, wondering if I'll make it above ground in time to post this blog before midnight. I've been at Television Centre doing autocue for Matt Lucas' new TV chat show. It's one of the last comedy programmes they're ever going to make within this iconic building; a fact which makes me feel a little sad. What child of the 1970s doesn't remember Roy Castle tap-dancing around the doughnut in the middle of the complex, or Terry Wogan whinging about the BBC canteen food. I remember sitting there as a teenager, about to perform with the Northamptonshire Youth Orchestra on Blue Peter, my stomach knotted with excitement.
Yet soon the place will be nothing but a few listed buildings rented out by all sorts of non-BBC organisations. Children's telly and sport have already migrated to Salford, and everything else is moving to newer premises down the road within the next few months.
I feel quite honoured to be doing the job. It was my first day today. I was fairly nervous this morning, but got into my stride relatively quickly and everything went smoothly. I feel tired, having been too excited to sleep, for many reasons, last night, but elated after a good day's work.
Guests on Matt's show included Maureen Lipman and Julian Clary, who was in the cast of Taboo, so it was lovely to see him again. He seemed confused to find me running the autocue, as he would no doubt also have been to discover I was a composer! I was very firmly wearing my director's hat when we last worked together.
I forget how much I like doing autocue. It's quite an adrenaline-fuelled experience. If you disengage your brain for even a second, you end up making terrible mistakes and potentially making the presenter look like a fool. I've done some terrible things in the past, which include royally shafting Jeremy Vine on an outside broadcast for an episode of Newsnight from the Tory Party conference in Blackpool. In my defence, the equipment broke down. That particular disaster wasn't a lapse of judgement on my part, but there have been plenty more where I was guilty as hell. I once did Charles Kennedy's autocue and wrote Mrs Quim instead of Mrs Quinn.
Ten years ago, I did this kind of work a fair amount, and I can even claim to have been in demand! I've done autocue for all sorts of people including Brucie and Tony Blair (at Downing Street of all places.)
So much for my week of doing nothing. I have countless meetings tomorrow, am working on Thursday and Friday, and then am off to Manchester next week to start my next film project up there.
Talk about a roller coaster!
Yet soon the place will be nothing but a few listed buildings rented out by all sorts of non-BBC organisations. Children's telly and sport have already migrated to Salford, and everything else is moving to newer premises down the road within the next few months.
I feel quite honoured to be doing the job. It was my first day today. I was fairly nervous this morning, but got into my stride relatively quickly and everything went smoothly. I feel tired, having been too excited to sleep, for many reasons, last night, but elated after a good day's work.
Guests on Matt's show included Maureen Lipman and Julian Clary, who was in the cast of Taboo, so it was lovely to see him again. He seemed confused to find me running the autocue, as he would no doubt also have been to discover I was a composer! I was very firmly wearing my director's hat when we last worked together.
I forget how much I like doing autocue. It's quite an adrenaline-fuelled experience. If you disengage your brain for even a second, you end up making terrible mistakes and potentially making the presenter look like a fool. I've done some terrible things in the past, which include royally shafting Jeremy Vine on an outside broadcast for an episode of Newsnight from the Tory Party conference in Blackpool. In my defence, the equipment broke down. That particular disaster wasn't a lapse of judgement on my part, but there have been plenty more where I was guilty as hell. I once did Charles Kennedy's autocue and wrote Mrs Quim instead of Mrs Quinn.
Ten years ago, I did this kind of work a fair amount, and I can even claim to have been in demand! I've done autocue for all sorts of people including Brucie and Tony Blair (at Downing Street of all places.)
So much for my week of doing nothing. I have countless meetings tomorrow, am working on Thursday and Friday, and then am off to Manchester next week to start my next film project up there.
Talk about a roller coaster!
Monday, 28 November 2011
A cut above
I've wanted to curl up on the sofa all day and do nothing but watch telly, but ever since the briefest of brief celebratory lie-ins, I've been out and about in London. I've had various meetings about the Requiem, I've wandered around Soho with my brother and John, and this evening, we went to the press night of La Soirée, which has just started a short run at the Roundhouse. It's a kind of burlesque-meets-circus experience and it's really very good; a fabulous mix of laugh-out-loud slapstick and awe-inspiring and often quite moving trapeze and balancing acts. Throw in a few songs performed by an enormous black drag queen, add a bit of sparkle from a hoola-hooper, and you have a show which is well-worth seeing.
I'm still in a bit of a haze after yesterday. I'm thrilled that things went so well, although I've been told off by a number of people for being so self-deprecating in my little talks between numbers. I'm not really one for banging my own drum, and stories of disaster and failure are surely always more interesting and amusing than someone saying "and then I won 3 RTS awards and was invited to play the 'cello in front of the queen."
The truth is that I'm utterly proud of all the music I write, I think it sounds bloomin' lovely, but it's more interesting when heard in context. The musical Blast for example, from which many of the songs we performed came from, has never been performed, which can hardly be described as successful, and much of the music I wrote in the early days came out of a place of genuine struggle.
I'd much rather an audience be astonished by the quality of a body of work which has essentially been ignored, than bored to tears by a man patting himself on the back for his far more successful forays into film and TV! Maybe I'm just way too English...
I've just opened a card which came from Meriel, Tanya, Hilary, Fiona and Meriel with a cheque inside, which has turned me into a quivering wreck. I am a lucky, lucky
man with extraordinary friends. I've no idea what I've done to garner such an astonishing amount of love and generosity, but I feel blessed. Actually blessed.
350 years ago the Pepyses took delivery of a new maid, one Sarah, who was tall and "very well favoured", but not destined to last very long as a servant in Seething Lane. Elizabeth seemed to argue very badly with all of her wenches. I think she'd suddenly started viewing herself as a cut above the rest...
I'm still in a bit of a haze after yesterday. I'm thrilled that things went so well, although I've been told off by a number of people for being so self-deprecating in my little talks between numbers. I'm not really one for banging my own drum, and stories of disaster and failure are surely always more interesting and amusing than someone saying "and then I won 3 RTS awards and was invited to play the 'cello in front of the queen."
The truth is that I'm utterly proud of all the music I write, I think it sounds bloomin' lovely, but it's more interesting when heard in context. The musical Blast for example, from which many of the songs we performed came from, has never been performed, which can hardly be described as successful, and much of the music I wrote in the early days came out of a place of genuine struggle.
I'd much rather an audience be astonished by the quality of a body of work which has essentially been ignored, than bored to tears by a man patting himself on the back for his far more successful forays into film and TV! Maybe I'm just way too English...
I've just opened a card which came from Meriel, Tanya, Hilary, Fiona and Meriel with a cheque inside, which has turned me into a quivering wreck. I am a lucky, lucky
man with extraordinary friends. I've no idea what I've done to garner such an astonishing amount of love and generosity, but I feel blessed. Actually blessed.
350 years ago the Pepyses took delivery of a new maid, one Sarah, who was tall and "very well favoured", but not destined to last very long as a servant in Seething Lane. Elizabeth seemed to argue very badly with all of her wenches. I think she'd suddenly started viewing herself as a cut above the rest...
Sunday, 27 November 2011
Triumph
Floating on air. The concert was extraordinary. Very emotional. Katina sang Shone With the Sun and brought me to tears. Requiem beautiful. I cried when I introduced it. The whole thing felt like This Is Your Life. My friends, my whole family. I felt loved and talented. The Lincolnshire commission went down a storm. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Sally Brown!
I finally know what it feels like to have my ego massaged by an extraordinary choir. It feels wonderful! The pain is over and I can finally move on.
350 years ago Pepys' wife parted with her made Dorothea. Tragique!
I finally know what it feels like to have my ego massaged by an extraordinary choir. It feels wonderful! The pain is over and I can finally move on.
350 years ago Pepys' wife parted with her made Dorothea. Tragique!
Saturday, 26 November 2011
Cock II
We're on the Jubilee line heading from Canary Wharf to Waterloo. It's been the longest day in the world and still it continues...
I was up with the lark preparing for the concert before rehearsing Em Brûlée at noon, who's come down from Leeds to sing the theme from A Symphony for Yorkshire.
Tim, John and I then trundled into town, and I had my hair cut at Mr Toppers, which means I now have annoying little half hairs prickling on my neck. I'm not really keen on the whole thing of sitting in a hairdresser's chair staring at myself in a giant mirror lit by fluorescent light. It's times like this when you start to realise how old you're beginning to look. There are now grey hairs all over my head, which I rather like, but my eyes looked like dough balls and my forehead was like a ridge and furrow field! I once had a nightmare that cress was growing in the deep lines in my forehead. They've always been the cause of much embarrassment and have now gone way beyond anything I can describe as "characterful"!
We lunched in Stock Pot, the only place to eat if you work in theatre, but are out of work. The moment you get a gig in a long running show, it's fancy restaurants all the way!
We met my parents on the Southbank, and then Edward and Sascha cooked a meal for us all. It was a shame Nathan was at work because I don't think there's ever been a time that my Mum and Dad, two brothers and all associated gay lovers have been together in a room.
Tim, John and I are now going to Naked Boys Singing to admire and laugh at Nathan's penis! What a life I live!
350 years ago, Pepys woke up feeling very poorly (a hangover plainly not helped by his wife falling out with her maid.) When he finally emerged from his bedroom after lunch, there was nothing for it but to start drinking again, and he drank like a fish. Do fish drink?
I was up with the lark preparing for the concert before rehearsing Em Brûlée at noon, who's come down from Leeds to sing the theme from A Symphony for Yorkshire.
Tim, John and I then trundled into town, and I had my hair cut at Mr Toppers, which means I now have annoying little half hairs prickling on my neck. I'm not really keen on the whole thing of sitting in a hairdresser's chair staring at myself in a giant mirror lit by fluorescent light. It's times like this when you start to realise how old you're beginning to look. There are now grey hairs all over my head, which I rather like, but my eyes looked like dough balls and my forehead was like a ridge and furrow field! I once had a nightmare that cress was growing in the deep lines in my forehead. They've always been the cause of much embarrassment and have now gone way beyond anything I can describe as "characterful"!
We lunched in Stock Pot, the only place to eat if you work in theatre, but are out of work. The moment you get a gig in a long running show, it's fancy restaurants all the way!
We met my parents on the Southbank, and then Edward and Sascha cooked a meal for us all. It was a shame Nathan was at work because I don't think there's ever been a time that my Mum and Dad, two brothers and all associated gay lovers have been together in a room.
Tim, John and I are now going to Naked Boys Singing to admire and laugh at Nathan's penis! What a life I live!
350 years ago, Pepys woke up feeling very poorly (a hangover plainly not helped by his wife falling out with her maid.) When he finally emerged from his bedroom after lunch, there was nothing for it but to start drinking again, and he drank like a fish. Do fish drink?
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