A day spent preparing for my court case tomorrow. 18 months since the process started and it looks like the end might finally be in sight. Famous last words, of course. The last time I said this, the blooming thing got adjourned! We're off to Leicester tonight to stay in an hotel because I'm terrified we'll get stuck in traffic tomorrow morning.
I am, however, feeling lousy. I'm exhausted and have been coming down with something for the last few days. No doubt stress-related! I can't wait until tomorrow night when all this business will be over, one way or the other.
I'm currently trying to get to Julie's house, where I'm picking Nathan up. It's raining miserably and the traffic is hideous. The Blackwall Tunnel has been closed and I can't seem to get south of the river.
I'm stuck in traffic in the other tunnel, choking on fumes with back ache.
There are people from Pakistan on Radio 4. Their voices are grating and irritating. I'm trying to work out if this is a racist remark.
And what of Pepys? Not a lot. He went to the theatre to see a play acted with puppets. He enjoyed the experience but didn't see much of the play as he was ogling his pin-up girl, Lady Castlemayne, who was sitting near him in the audience, one assumes not entirely by chance!
Wednesday, 7 September 2011
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
A is for Agnetha
I've just been to see Mahler 5 performed at the Albert Hall, and I feel incredibly privileged to have been in the audience. I went as the guest of Ellie, and we had superb seats. The orchestra was American, which means loud, bright, hard-core, deeply exciting brass playing. Mahler 5 features the Death In Venice sequence, which is possibly one of the most beautiful symphonic movements of all time, ending with one of the longest suspensions! The famous section is performed by just strings and by the end, as the tears were dripping down my cheeks, I began to wonder whether there was ANY point in woodwind instruments at all! All those blonde, vapid women had to sit there holding their flutes, looking a bit bored, wishing they were anywhere else in the orchestra. Ha!
The joy about the Albert Hall is that you can spend hours looking at the scenery; those fantastic golden organ pipes stretching into the heavens, the funny little mushrooms hanging from the ceiling, the statue of Henry Wood proudly watching, silently conducting...
Ellie announced, to my great surprise, that she is the owner of a very important archive of photographs taken by her Uncle Chris during prom concerts in the 1960s and 70s. Amongst them is an astonishing photograph of Jacqueline du Pre, which I've told her she must have copied for her sitting room wall. Obviously if you're having one done, you might as well get two, and I've told her about a very worthy Highgate-based du Pre-loving charity. I could hang it next to my photograph of Lorca!
I'm in a bit of a haze today. Last night ended up being a late one. Fiona's party featured the best cupcakes in London, probably the best wedges of camembert coated in breadcrumbs in the capital, and a grand total of six former pupils of the Northamptonshire music school, who it was just fabulous to hang out with.
We went back to Highgate with John Grant and listened to ABBA for three whole hours before watching the ABBA in Japan special that Matt Lucas lent me last year. It was pure heaven.
350 years, and one day ago, Pepys waved goodbye to his mother and sister-cum-servant, Pall, both of whom were being banished to the country, by all accounts for being stupid... and women.
In the afternoon, Elizabeth and Pepys went to his Uncle Fenner's house and en route they bumped into a French footman "with feathers" who'd apparently been searching for Elizabeth and wanted to meet her the following day. Pepys was, understandably, suspicious. You marry a French woman, and get France thrown in!
Uncle Fenner's house was filled to the rafters with Pepys' relatives, and, unsurprisingly, the mother of all family rows broke out, which saw Pepys seething his way back to Seething Lane!
A day later, Elizabeth went to visit the French footman. Pepys still had no idea why, and he became increasingly jealous throughout the day.
He went to see his Aunt Kite, who was on her death bed, and wanted Pepys to act as executor for her will. He used his diary to make a note of her wishes, so that he could whip it out if challenged!
When Pepys finally got home, having dodged rain showers in various theatres and pubs, he decided to ignore his wife to punish her for meeting the French footman! We're still not told why she went. He was too busy ignoring her to ask!
The joy about the Albert Hall is that you can spend hours looking at the scenery; those fantastic golden organ pipes stretching into the heavens, the funny little mushrooms hanging from the ceiling, the statue of Henry Wood proudly watching, silently conducting...
Ellie announced, to my great surprise, that she is the owner of a very important archive of photographs taken by her Uncle Chris during prom concerts in the 1960s and 70s. Amongst them is an astonishing photograph of Jacqueline du Pre, which I've told her she must have copied for her sitting room wall. Obviously if you're having one done, you might as well get two, and I've told her about a very worthy Highgate-based du Pre-loving charity. I could hang it next to my photograph of Lorca!
I'm in a bit of a haze today. Last night ended up being a late one. Fiona's party featured the best cupcakes in London, probably the best wedges of camembert coated in breadcrumbs in the capital, and a grand total of six former pupils of the Northamptonshire music school, who it was just fabulous to hang out with.
We went back to Highgate with John Grant and listened to ABBA for three whole hours before watching the ABBA in Japan special that Matt Lucas lent me last year. It was pure heaven.
350 years, and one day ago, Pepys waved goodbye to his mother and sister-cum-servant, Pall, both of whom were being banished to the country, by all accounts for being stupid... and women.
In the afternoon, Elizabeth and Pepys went to his Uncle Fenner's house and en route they bumped into a French footman "with feathers" who'd apparently been searching for Elizabeth and wanted to meet her the following day. Pepys was, understandably, suspicious. You marry a French woman, and get France thrown in!
Uncle Fenner's house was filled to the rafters with Pepys' relatives, and, unsurprisingly, the mother of all family rows broke out, which saw Pepys seething his way back to Seething Lane!
A day later, Elizabeth went to visit the French footman. Pepys still had no idea why, and he became increasingly jealous throughout the day.
He went to see his Aunt Kite, who was on her death bed, and wanted Pepys to act as executor for her will. He used his diary to make a note of her wishes, so that he could whip it out if challenged!
When Pepys finally got home, having dodged rain showers in various theatres and pubs, he decided to ignore his wife to punish her for meeting the French footman! We're still not told why she went. He was too busy ignoring her to ask!
Monday, 5 September 2011
I do I do I do I do I do
I'm at Fiona and Paul's wedding party. She got married in America at the start of the year, and tonight is the first opportunity she's had to get everyone together in the UK.
It's been a fabulous evening, filled with countless wonderful people, and we've spent hours talking about Abba. In fact, we're off now to Highgate with our new friend, John, to listen to some! More later...
It's been a fabulous evening, filled with countless wonderful people, and we've spent hours talking about Abba. In fact, we're off now to Highgate with our new friend, John, to listen to some! More later...
Sunday, 4 September 2011
We will face it together the way old friends do
We're in East Sussex, on the outskirts of a village called Lindfield. It's been another incredibly social day which found us down in Lewes celebrating Uncle Bill and Rupert's son's christening... Or baptism... Or whatever they call these sinister things in a Catholic church. We missed the ceremony itself, on account of its being at 9am in East Sussex, but arrived in time for the post-procedure party. Little Jago had, we're told, looked a picture in his little white frock, and been as good as gold throughout the experience, even when the vicar/priest/Antichrist had poured water all over the little tyke's forehead!
Uncle Bill is a friend from university days and there were lots of people crammed into her sitting room who I hadn't seen for far too long. It was lovely to find out what everyone was up to, and oddly comforting to discover that I'm not the only one who's finding the financial climate a bit of a struggle at the moment.
All the little squabbles and dramas of university days had melted into a beautiful warm glow and it struck me what astonishingly successful grown-ups we'd become. Not just in terms of the jobs we do - although there were screen writers, therapists, university academics, composers, actors, entrepreneurs and singers all sitting in the room - but also because we're loyal people, who have all managed to create and maintain loving, successful relationships, and, as friends, have seen each other through good and bad times. I was also thrilled to be in the presence of both of my god-children, and the lovely Meriel, who has recently started to emit an indefinable but nevertheless magnificent light.
We went to a local pub. Hilary and Rupert had laid on a lovely buffet of cheeses and sandwiches, and after the majority of guests had left, and the rain had cleared, we went for a stroll around Lewes. It's a charming town, and the view from the castle is delightful.
We left Lewes, immediately took a wrong turning and started heading north via a series of country lanes, through a number of picturesque villages, many of which had cute little train stations.
On the outskirts of Haywards Heath, I was suddenly overcome by a desire to call in on another university friend, Ellie. I knew she lived in a village nearby, and a quick look at a map confirmed that it was Lindfield, and we were about 2 miles away.
Ellie's mobile doesn't have reception in her house, and as no-one was answering the home phone, I was forced to dive into my memory and try and retrace the steps of a visit I'd made to the village about five years earlier. I found her road and the terrace that she lived in, but couldn't remember the number of her actual house. A quick phone call to her sister, Izzy, provided us with the information we needed, and we were able to go ahead with the surprise visit.
Ellie seemed thrilled to see us, and was in the process of putting her five-year-old daughter to bed, which meant we were enlisted to "do" the bed time story, which was about friendly monsters living under a little girl's bed. It was a story that would have given me nightmares as a child, but she loved it!
We had a nice chat over a cup of tea, whilst Ellie's daughter hid on the stairs, not permitted to come and join us, but desperate not to be left out, and obviously hugely excited by the glamour of late-night visitors.
Life is good. Time spent with close friends and family is hugely enriching. I have a very tiring week approaching and feel emotionally ready to take on the world.
350 years ago, Pepys ate oysters for the first time that season. They say one should never eat oysters in months without an r in them - i.e. the summer months, when waters were warm and diseases were rife.
Pepys and Elizabeth went walking in St James' Park, which had recently been re-landscaped, and looked, we're told, "brave." I love the word brave used in this context.
Uncle Bill is a friend from university days and there were lots of people crammed into her sitting room who I hadn't seen for far too long. It was lovely to find out what everyone was up to, and oddly comforting to discover that I'm not the only one who's finding the financial climate a bit of a struggle at the moment.
All the little squabbles and dramas of university days had melted into a beautiful warm glow and it struck me what astonishingly successful grown-ups we'd become. Not just in terms of the jobs we do - although there were screen writers, therapists, university academics, composers, actors, entrepreneurs and singers all sitting in the room - but also because we're loyal people, who have all managed to create and maintain loving, successful relationships, and, as friends, have seen each other through good and bad times. I was also thrilled to be in the presence of both of my god-children, and the lovely Meriel, who has recently started to emit an indefinable but nevertheless magnificent light.
We went to a local pub. Hilary and Rupert had laid on a lovely buffet of cheeses and sandwiches, and after the majority of guests had left, and the rain had cleared, we went for a stroll around Lewes. It's a charming town, and the view from the castle is delightful.
We left Lewes, immediately took a wrong turning and started heading north via a series of country lanes, through a number of picturesque villages, many of which had cute little train stations.
On the outskirts of Haywards Heath, I was suddenly overcome by a desire to call in on another university friend, Ellie. I knew she lived in a village nearby, and a quick look at a map confirmed that it was Lindfield, and we were about 2 miles away.
Ellie's mobile doesn't have reception in her house, and as no-one was answering the home phone, I was forced to dive into my memory and try and retrace the steps of a visit I'd made to the village about five years earlier. I found her road and the terrace that she lived in, but couldn't remember the number of her actual house. A quick phone call to her sister, Izzy, provided us with the information we needed, and we were able to go ahead with the surprise visit.
Ellie seemed thrilled to see us, and was in the process of putting her five-year-old daughter to bed, which meant we were enlisted to "do" the bed time story, which was about friendly monsters living under a little girl's bed. It was a story that would have given me nightmares as a child, but she loved it!
We had a nice chat over a cup of tea, whilst Ellie's daughter hid on the stairs, not permitted to come and join us, but desperate not to be left out, and obviously hugely excited by the glamour of late-night visitors.
Life is good. Time spent with close friends and family is hugely enriching. I have a very tiring week approaching and feel emotionally ready to take on the world.
350 years ago, Pepys ate oysters for the first time that season. They say one should never eat oysters in months without an r in them - i.e. the summer months, when waters were warm and diseases were rife.
Pepys and Elizabeth went walking in St James' Park, which had recently been re-landscaped, and looked, we're told, "brave." I love the word brave used in this context.
Saturday, 3 September 2011
How I treasure every minute
It's twilight and we're winding our way through beautiful Oxfordshire country lanes. Philippa is in the back of the car reading a book to Deia. Her voice is soothing. Deia is laughing like a maniac.
This is the last day of summer. Tomorrow, a cold front will move across the country, symbolically signifying the start of autumn.
Today was the day I chose to officially celebrate my birthday. I opted to take all my friends to Avebury, the mystical stone circle in Wiltshire. We were rewarded with the most magical weather. The sun burst out from behind rather ominous clouds at about 3pm and never left us.
We had a glorious picnic, sat under a wishing tree, hugged the pre-historic stones, picked wild flowers and took photographs in the long shadows. It was all rather hippy-like, and strangely reminiscent of those long summers of my childhood. We were accompanied by several children, including Deia, and at one point I suggested that she should try and take a mental picture of the scene so that she could remember the moment for the rest of her life.
We travelled from Avebury to the Uffington White Horse in the late afternoon. I went in Julie's car, and she took the roof down, which felt like the most spectacular way to travel. Bombing along the M4 with the wind whistling through my hair was a life-affirming experience!
There was something extraordinary happening when we arrived at the White Horse. The sun was casting long shadows across the straw-like grass, and banks of brown and white clouds were bubbling up in the west.
We sat at the top of the ridge, eating the remnants of our picnic whilst looking across the Oxfordshire plain. We wondered how many miles we could see stretching out in front of us. Ted thought maybe 15. I reckon it was more. Trains with scores of wagons sailed between the patchwork fields, combine harvesters trundled up and down, disappearing from time to time into clouds of corn dust. Timeless. Nostalgic. Utterly magical.
The sun descended into a sky which was spattered in little specks of black, as though someone had got a paintbrush and put giant dots at regular intervals across a sea of blue.
We dawdled back to the car; Moira, Philippa, India-Rose, Deia and I trailing behind the rest. Our fecklessness was rewarded by a sunset of biblical proportions. A giant red column of cloud stretched from one side of the sky to the other. It was as though the clouds were burning. It was everything I'd dreamt of for the day and I felt utterly blessed.
350 years ago Pepys attended the christening of Lady Sandwich's daughter. They named her Katherine, after the Queen elect, and the banquet which followed was the best Pepys had ever attended. Sadly he doesn't describe it in any depth, so we don't know why it was quite so spectacular, but good to know that the Sandwiches were proper toads!!
This is the last day of summer. Tomorrow, a cold front will move across the country, symbolically signifying the start of autumn.
Today was the day I chose to officially celebrate my birthday. I opted to take all my friends to Avebury, the mystical stone circle in Wiltshire. We were rewarded with the most magical weather. The sun burst out from behind rather ominous clouds at about 3pm and never left us.
We had a glorious picnic, sat under a wishing tree, hugged the pre-historic stones, picked wild flowers and took photographs in the long shadows. It was all rather hippy-like, and strangely reminiscent of those long summers of my childhood. We were accompanied by several children, including Deia, and at one point I suggested that she should try and take a mental picture of the scene so that she could remember the moment for the rest of her life.
We travelled from Avebury to the Uffington White Horse in the late afternoon. I went in Julie's car, and she took the roof down, which felt like the most spectacular way to travel. Bombing along the M4 with the wind whistling through my hair was a life-affirming experience!
There was something extraordinary happening when we arrived at the White Horse. The sun was casting long shadows across the straw-like grass, and banks of brown and white clouds were bubbling up in the west.
We sat at the top of the ridge, eating the remnants of our picnic whilst looking across the Oxfordshire plain. We wondered how many miles we could see stretching out in front of us. Ted thought maybe 15. I reckon it was more. Trains with scores of wagons sailed between the patchwork fields, combine harvesters trundled up and down, disappearing from time to time into clouds of corn dust. Timeless. Nostalgic. Utterly magical.
The sun descended into a sky which was spattered in little specks of black, as though someone had got a paintbrush and put giant dots at regular intervals across a sea of blue.
We dawdled back to the car; Moira, Philippa, India-Rose, Deia and I trailing behind the rest. Our fecklessness was rewarded by a sunset of biblical proportions. A giant red column of cloud stretched from one side of the sky to the other. It was as though the clouds were burning. It was everything I'd dreamt of for the day and I felt utterly blessed.
Look at the light!
350 years ago Pepys attended the christening of Lady Sandwich's daughter. They named her Katherine, after the Queen elect, and the banquet which followed was the best Pepys had ever attended. Sadly he doesn't describe it in any depth, so we don't know why it was quite so spectacular, but good to know that the Sandwiches were proper toads!!
Friday, 2 September 2011
Summer Night City
It's been incredibly hot in London today. I'm on a tube train heading to the National Theatre. It's boiling hot and it smells like cheese and vinegar, which is deeply unpleasant. I'm trying to work out if the bitter smell comes from the tube itself, or from the man sitting next to me, who seems undesirable. Every time I get on a tube in hot weather, I ask myself why Londoners routinely put up with this nonsense.
Julie and I are going to the National to see The Kitchen, which is a play by my mentor, Arnold Wesker. I don't often refer to him as a mentor, but as the years flicker past, I realise that this is the role he's always played in my life. He's a wonderfully uncompromising bloke, who showed me that a man could tread an honest path in this industry without the need to stab anyone in the back. And he regularly tells me I'm his favourite living composer, which should never be under-estimated! I'm pleased to say he's having something of a revival at the moment. They're also performing Chicken Soup with Barley at the Royal Court. Sir Arnold himself is 80 next year. He was in his 60s when we first worked together, getting on for half my life ago!
I've exited the tube and am now crossing Hungerford Bridge. The Eastern sky is a picture; a smudgy blend of pastel pinks and blues. Just as I was admiring the view, I was aware that someone had switched on the halogen lights along the length of the bridge. For a moment or two, I wondered why this would have happened in broad daylight, until I realised it wasn't actually the street lights, it was simply that the setting sun had dropped beneath the cloud, and was glowing like a huge orange bonfire. Glorious...
11.20pm, and I'm walking back across Hungerford bridge, having seen the play, which was lovely. There are at least 30 in the cast, playing waitresses, chefs and cleaners, all of whom move around the kitchen set like dancers in a ballet. It's wonderfully atmospheric. It's a true coup de theatre, and must have had the most astonishing impact when it was first performed in the 1950s. I also found myself inexplicably moved by some of the speeches, perhaps because I know so well the man who wrote them. Maybe it's because he wrote them when he was younger than I am now. They came from the pen of a man who wanted to change the world.
After the play, Julie and I went to the fairground which has sprung up beside the London Eye, and dared ourselves to go on the weird spinning ride, which saw us sitting on rickerty metal chairs 40 feet above the Thames. It was a deeply surreal, and dizzying experience, which made me feel very light-headed. The lights of London became circular luminous streaks in every colour of the rainbow! I posted my blog mid-ride, but it didn't go!
350 years ago, Pepys wrote one of his longest ever diary entries. There were many words, but none of any great interest. He went drinking. There was intrigue. It seemed that there were people in high places who wanted to take Sandwich down a peg or two.
Elizabeth decided to make a pie, went shopping for ingredients and bumped into the son of the Duke of Somerset, who presented her with a necklace. Pepys was obviously slightly concerned, but decided to play things cool. At least for the time being...
Julie and I are going to the National to see The Kitchen, which is a play by my mentor, Arnold Wesker. I don't often refer to him as a mentor, but as the years flicker past, I realise that this is the role he's always played in my life. He's a wonderfully uncompromising bloke, who showed me that a man could tread an honest path in this industry without the need to stab anyone in the back. And he regularly tells me I'm his favourite living composer, which should never be under-estimated! I'm pleased to say he's having something of a revival at the moment. They're also performing Chicken Soup with Barley at the Royal Court. Sir Arnold himself is 80 next year. He was in his 60s when we first worked together, getting on for half my life ago!
I've exited the tube and am now crossing Hungerford Bridge. The Eastern sky is a picture; a smudgy blend of pastel pinks and blues. Just as I was admiring the view, I was aware that someone had switched on the halogen lights along the length of the bridge. For a moment or two, I wondered why this would have happened in broad daylight, until I realised it wasn't actually the street lights, it was simply that the setting sun had dropped beneath the cloud, and was glowing like a huge orange bonfire. Glorious...
11.20pm, and I'm walking back across Hungerford bridge, having seen the play, which was lovely. There are at least 30 in the cast, playing waitresses, chefs and cleaners, all of whom move around the kitchen set like dancers in a ballet. It's wonderfully atmospheric. It's a true coup de theatre, and must have had the most astonishing impact when it was first performed in the 1950s. I also found myself inexplicably moved by some of the speeches, perhaps because I know so well the man who wrote them. Maybe it's because he wrote them when he was younger than I am now. They came from the pen of a man who wanted to change the world.
After the play, Julie and I went to the fairground which has sprung up beside the London Eye, and dared ourselves to go on the weird spinning ride, which saw us sitting on rickerty metal chairs 40 feet above the Thames. It was a deeply surreal, and dizzying experience, which made me feel very light-headed. The lights of London became circular luminous streaks in every colour of the rainbow! I posted my blog mid-ride, but it didn't go!
350 years ago, Pepys wrote one of his longest ever diary entries. There were many words, but none of any great interest. He went drinking. There was intrigue. It seemed that there were people in high places who wanted to take Sandwich down a peg or two.
Elizabeth decided to make a pie, went shopping for ingredients and bumped into the son of the Duke of Somerset, who presented her with a necklace. Pepys was obviously slightly concerned, but decided to play things cool. At least for the time being...
Thursday, 1 September 2011
We're following the piper!
We're in Hackney, where we've just taken delivery of three lady rats who are coming for a holiday in Highgate.
It's nothing sinister; we're not trying to breed them or anything, we're simply looking after them for three friends who are going on holiday in Slovakia. The guest rats are the mother, sister and the aunt of our Tyndarids, and they're absolutely tiny, which makes me wonder if we've been feeding our two rather too much "Reggie Rat." One of the lady rats is very old and frail. She's called McCann - named after Maddie - and she's not expected to last the two weeks she's with us. If she dies we're under strict instructions to put her in the freezer, so that they can bury her somewhere nicer than Hampstead Heath, or Highgate Woods, though quite why they think this is going to be possible in Hackney, I'm not sure.
It's very important that our rats are kept away from the girls... They may be related, but that won't stop them from doing naughty things, and having seen the way that Pol is with the back of my hand, I wouldn't wish that on anyone or anything.
It rained heavily in the night 350 years ago, Pepys' guttering became blocked, and he woke up to find all of his ceilings completely ruined.
He spent the day with Captain Holmes, walking around London and generally putting the world to rights. Pepys liked Holmes. He was loyal to Sandwich, and cunning, which was a compliment. "Two-faced" (which feels like a very modern phrase) was also used as a term of endearment. I think Holmes simply knew how to keep his enemies close, and Pepys didn't want to get on the wrong side of him.
It's nothing sinister; we're not trying to breed them or anything, we're simply looking after them for three friends who are going on holiday in Slovakia. The guest rats are the mother, sister and the aunt of our Tyndarids, and they're absolutely tiny, which makes me wonder if we've been feeding our two rather too much "Reggie Rat." One of the lady rats is very old and frail. She's called McCann - named after Maddie - and she's not expected to last the two weeks she's with us. If she dies we're under strict instructions to put her in the freezer, so that they can bury her somewhere nicer than Hampstead Heath, or Highgate Woods, though quite why they think this is going to be possible in Hackney, I'm not sure.
It's very important that our rats are kept away from the girls... They may be related, but that won't stop them from doing naughty things, and having seen the way that Pol is with the back of my hand, I wouldn't wish that on anyone or anything.
It rained heavily in the night 350 years ago, Pepys' guttering became blocked, and he woke up to find all of his ceilings completely ruined.
He spent the day with Captain Holmes, walking around London and generally putting the world to rights. Pepys liked Holmes. He was loyal to Sandwich, and cunning, which was a compliment. "Two-faced" (which feels like a very modern phrase) was also used as a term of endearment. I think Holmes simply knew how to keep his enemies close, and Pepys didn't want to get on the wrong side of him.
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