days 30 July 2008
Some days are just grand altogether, aren’t they? I think I mya be having one of those even as I type. I am now halfway through a two day recording of a radio play for bbc3 called YOUR ONLY MAN. I love radio work anyhow but imagine my delight to also be sharing the microphone with Ardal O’Hanlon, Dermot Crowley, Lloyd Hutchinson and Dara O’Briain (this his first ‘acting’ gig). Not a lot to gripe about there….oh must run now as I have a tad more to do…
soho 29 July 2008
I’m sitting in the Soho gaff listening to the happy sounds of people drinking al fresco. Surely that’s what the summer is for, particularly if you are fond of a jar at all (and I am, as you all know). I love this part of London and get the best of it as I live on one of the quieter streets yet get all the buzz of the place. BUT I hear there is a plan afoot to stop drinking on the streets. I can’t see the harm in it I must say, the drinking out of doors. Also people are quite law-abiding here and when it’s time to shut up shop/pub they do and the customers go home – all at a decent hour, on my street at least. Leave it alone is what I say. We get few enough days and nights when the weather is good enough to remain outdoors. Don’ t nanny us. Crikey, that’s made me thirsty…
rewards 28 July 2008
I COULD NOT sleep last night – yes, it was hot, etc, but the MIND wouldn’t just let go either. Anyhow, around 1.55 am (had been abed since 10.30 in the hope that I would get up early and attend to the things I should have delivered b4 it looked like I was thrashing a contract) I heard the sound of vigorous eating of cat food in the kitchen below that I KNEW was not The G – i KNOW her sounds and these were not them. I tried to steal out of bed, telling Rich to shush and met the G in the darkness of the anxious landing before we ventured down and scared the wild and unwelcome cat off – I was just trying to get Herself to come in to the kitchen and see that the visitor was vanquished and gone, and leave her to make it her own again, when the WHITE naked body of MY husband (as I cannot blame the G for any go this) appeared and proceeded to use the downstairs loo for no other reason than we were all (3 of us- the Famblee) there – could his timing have been any worse? NO – cos the G is still in the attic as a result – can’t blame her. It’s a tremendous sight, The Ritchie, but it’s good to be warned too – he’s a lovely hairy fellow and the G, like myself, likes to know what she’s letting herself in for…
summer 27 July 2008
We seem to have had another summer today in Dublin (they’ve been happening on and off for a while now, though never last more than 24 hours) and I got so carried away by it that I almost had a life. That is to say I did some writing but not as much as I should have and mostly the novel which isn’t as urgent as the TV treatment I should be delivering (about which I am having a wee block, actually). The upshot of that and watching Midsomer Murders this evening (love it) is that I have to get up at 6.30 and be done with today’s work before tomorrow starts, if you know what I mean…AND I forgot to pack away the bathroom while I was about it and the builders want to beat the shite out of it tomorrow and for the next 3 days so need a clear go at the room. Oh, I hope I had a good time earlier, is all I can say…
crisis 26 July 2008
I read a review of a book in the paper today that sounded to ME like it would be good and I liked all of the bits quoted – but the reviewer thought it trite and over-explained…oh, and pretentious too. I got very worried as I feel I may have done all of those things in the book i am finishing at the moment (I usually feel this way at this stage, by the by) AND YET if it’s like what I read in the paper today I’d be happy. Dilemma – who to believe? I guess you’ve just got yourself in the end and if people hate what you’ve done then so be it – you have been true to your story and stand by it (hopefully!) As far as critics go, you want to believe the good stuff but if you do that you can’t ignore the bad stuff, so best ignore the lot and trust your readers – which is what I intend to do.
There is some class of a dirty protest happening in the bathroom at the moment. A creature is wazzing on the towels that we step on when we get out of the shower. Don’t know if it is Herself, the G, or a visiting puss who comes by occasionally to eat what’s on offer and leave a spray of male cat hormone yuck behind (I doubt he comes up the stairs but what do I know about anything anymore?) The mercy is that it hasn’t moved on to solids…yet…
perception 25 July 2008
The house is full of boxes which are full of our junk – or at least the stuff that has not been recycled (charity shops, usually, or the Scrap Heap…but only then in extreme) and that is fine. The walls are NUDE cos maybe the builders might knock a thing or two off ‘em/smash into a painting or ‘thing’ by accident so that’s fine too – bare and strange but…and surely when it’s all done it’ll be worth it – yeah? However, weirdest thing is Herself, the G, is freaked by how I now look in the living room in front of the tv – it must be something to do with the light which is skewed cos of all the packing boxes stacked together and warping it (?) She is inclined to sit on me, tail VERY agitated, then HISSSSSING if I ask her anything at all (I always have lots of things I need her opinion on) and reluctantly, hissing all the way, she eventually abandons her position. It’s like she’s proving a point but I don’t know what. And I am the EXPERT on knowing what she wants, needs, the lot, in the human world cos I have known her for 18/19, probably more, years….what can it be?
crisis 24 July 2008
Am presently in trouble and about to be put on the naughty step. Basically, Himself was home late so I got stuck into the tv late too (don’t really tuck in till he’s home, try to write till then) and tragically (for Rich) there was a double bill of BONES on and I watched that till the end. He’s been in bed a half hour (late for him to have been going to the cot but he was late home, see above) and I have sauntered in just now to do me blog and put my light on (one on each side of the bed) so he’s awake again and not pleased. Ah well. Thing is, he is getting up at 6.30 every morning so that he can get to a nearby cafe to his work and do an hour and a half of Russian studies before the start of the business day – all very admirable, and being up so early will stand to him when we have to have used the shower and be gone out of the bathroom next week before the builders arrive at 8am each morning BUT I am not also doing the Russian thang and need some leeway – yep, folks, tis marriage, amore, compromise and so on. He better still bring me my cup of tea at 6.40 on the morrow or all bets are off and compromise be damned (I love it when a system comes together) Best put that light off now – nightnight
pubs 23 July 2008
I caught a bit of Gordon Ramsay turning around a pub tonight – compulsive viewing. I also love watching Hell’s Kitchen US at the moment. I am trying not to FOLLOW it and be hooked, which means I am not really allowed consult the paper for tv listings (no teletext) in case I plan my day around those – by the by, I am the one who has imposed these rules, not Himself, as I am the one with the book and tv treatment to deliver. Still, he was enthralled by the pub programme tonight and who wouldn’t have been. It was compulsive, brink-of-disaster stuff. In fairness to the couple who ran the pub, it was hard for them to change the ways of a lifetime but they made a very good fist of it and mostly – dunno if it was deference to a slightly different generation or what – Gordon didn’t swear as much as usual…he was almost kindly. And I love him all the more for that. I have never tasted his food so that will have to be the next step. I did try once to get a table at his only restaurant in Ireland, on the Powerscourt Estate in Wicklow, and although the place was empty we were assured no table was available (3 of us) which I found poor as we didn’t want to stay long and a good Maitre d’ always has a table (or so I have been told by good Maitre d’s). Anyhow I love him nonetheless. But mostly I LURV Richard Corrigan – he’s my favourite chef and I love Bentleys in London more than is right. Just so you know.
nails 22 July 2008
I am an occasional nail biter. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that I can go without for ages but then there’s a CULL of the like that would convince even a hardened cynic that I am an habitual sinner in this department. But I have got better over the years…I think. Anyhow, recently I have been torturing the thumbnails. One of these is very ridged and bumpy and easy to have a small or big ‘go’ at. I’ve been thinking that perhaps it was injured while building sets in the drama society at college when I was a schtyooodent but I’m not sure. Anyhow, over the years it has taken a lot of abuse. These days I try to keep it neat and smooth by filing, but when I can’t find the nail file it does tend to get all alluring and then there’s trouble. Recently, I had a minor incident with it and boy did I feel it tonight when I discovered that some of the red peppers I was handling were chillies rather than just the sweet variety. Yowza. I deserved all I got. I am cured again awhile.
stamps 21 July 2008
The stamps thing has hit home with many of you. Indeed, one lady who is a regular to the site and shall remain nameless – Mandy, you know who you are – has a penchant for a colleague of mine (not one who is currently gracing an Irish stamp, sadly) and she has suggested we should all have a favourite whom we’d love to lick forevermore while communicating with the outside world…in a meaningful way, of COURSE. I am happy enough with the lovely Cillian Murphy for the moment and therefore content with the Irish postal service, though I wouldn’t mind having George Clooney to run a tongue over from time to time. I shall leave the rest of you with your fantasy homework for now…do enjoy!
Shame it’s so expensive to send a card or letter by post these days. I do love to get something through the letterbox, although I must say a well-written email is also a pleasure and can be much more enjoyable than a phonecall. I am a lot more interesting by way of the written word, I think, so that method of communication is best for me. I can’t think of the last time I sent a letter to someone that wasn’t after a death or a funeral though. It seems a shame that such a great thing is now relegated to the dread place, almost where a telegram used to be – does anyone out there remember getting those? Usually they were bad news, though I do recall getting some splendid ones to wish me good luck on opening nights. They were an absolute treat and I am sorry now I didn’t keep them. In general, I am bad at storing mementoes although, to see the amount I am still trying to shed from the house right now, you would probably be inclined to call me a bit of a hoarder.