Saturday, October 29, 2005


Wednesday was a funny day. Had a really tight deadline to meet by 13:00. By 15:00 found out we had to do a conference call with Italy at 16:30. Did the call - had to hold the receiver at least three foot away from my ear as the person on the other end was bellowing down the line. My ear was actually numb by the end of the call.

By 17:30 we had got the job - flew out the next morning at 07:00. That was after I had hastily tied everything else up at work, suffered 40 mins of the North London link with an asthma attack (prob stress induced). Got home in time to see my son and watch him doing chocolate-induced and incessant Balloo the Bear impressions until he literally collapsed in bed at half past eight. Made dinner, ordered online shopping for delivery in two days time, ironed clothes, packed, paid bills online and opened the remainder of post which has been in a pile on the table unopened all week. Wrote out instructions for the childminder of how to get to Marble Hill Park. Left out a parking ticket appeal form for the other half with a note saying FILL OUT AND SEND TODAY. Went to bed and fell asleep. Woke up at 02:30 to the sound of really annoying milk van (sherman tank) idling outside bedroom window. Had a panic thinking it was my taxi and convinced the two alarm clocks were wrong. Finally got back into bed and couldn't sleep. Got up at a quarter to five - just as I was going back to sleep! Looking a little crumpled. Piled into taxi with driver that really wanted a chat - I didn't. Checked in, swiftly followed by person I am working with who has a fit because there was no time to pre-register his gold cardholder air miles number and he therefore hasn't got the seat he is always allocated. Nightmare. At six thirty in the morning this is as bad as it gets. I tell him he is really rude as he questions out loud why he has anyone working for him at all ie: me! I offer to change his seat. He will do it himself. This throws me out and I wander into the wrong bit of the lounge and cannot talk to him or anyone else for that matter. He comes looking for me and I can see he thinks I am really stupid. Feel even more belittled than I felt ten minutes previously. We sit in silence. I go in search of a new toothbrush as I can't bear the tension. Finally, get on plane and feel really emotional - consider freaking out and leaving plane before they shut the doors but stay put meanwhile dreading the next few days.

Finally arrive in Milan - handbag centre of the world. It's great here despite the fact we are filming on Monday and still don't have a location. This predicament is further worsened by the fact that it is a public holiday and no one is in town to even give us permission to see their house let alone shoot in it.

Oh well, it will all work out in end. Back on Thursday. Will post some more then.

Sunday, October 23, 2005

not great

It is a terrible thing to say but I really do hate my life at the moment. Too much pressure, too many worries and not doing what I really want to do and not in a position to change much at the moment. I'm all at sea as they say hence the picture above. Hopefully I'll find a way out of it soon. I just wish life wasn't so stressful!

Saturday, October 22, 2005

Ay-ite! You know dat!

Was guffawing along with the Westwood Show on Radio 1 last week. Yes, he's the one on the left wearing a t shirt with his own face on the front. After all these years I cannot believe that he still talks with that RIDICULOUS accent. As a teenager I was a big fan of his show on Kiss in the pirate days. There is no doubt that he has been incredibly influential in terms of introducing hip hop and r'n'b into the mainstream in this country. But, why does he have to talk like that? On last week's show he affected a stoned sounding laugh as if he was basking on a beach with a massive spliff in hand peppered with 'you know dat, irie man, scene!'. Stop saying 'you know dat' I found myself bellowing at the radio in between choking on my supper which went down the wrong way because 'I and I' was laughing so much. The bishop's son has done well. I think they should re-name his show Pimp My Accent.

We outta here. Sceeeene.

Friday, October 21, 2005


I bloody love Kate Bush and realised recently that I always have. I love her unique, singular approach to her music and use of melody and rhythm. I love the fact that she 'tried' performing live and 'didn't like it' so just didn't ever do it again. Brilliant. I wish life was as simple as that for normal, everyday folk. I'm not so much of a fan that I like absolutely everything she has done but what I do like is enough. It might be just my imagination but I think Alison Goldfrapp has taken quite a few leaves out of La Bush's book over the years? I'm sure somewhere along the line there is an influence lurking there.

I was once approached by a drunken man at a petrol station on Kilburn High Road trying to sell me a really manky carpet and swearing blind I was Kate Bush. Oh how I wish! I chose to pass on the carpet.

It's been a truly mixed week musically - I've been listening to alot of Hard Fi - I'm liking 'Cash Machine' alot. Check out Team 9 'Clash Machine' download from here.

I've played it to death! As well as a sudden penchant for ridiculous narrative country music such as Pickup Man and Friday Night Fight At Al's and Prop Me Up Against The Jukebox If I Die. Great on the skaggy North London Link at rush hour. God I hate that line - it never works.

Saturday, October 08, 2005