Once upon a time this was about Me and The Boy. The it was Me, The Boy, The Cat and The Cat's Mother. And now, I'm not sure who it's about. How life changes when you least expect it!
Around town earlier this year, pianos popped up in the street for anyone and everyone to tickle the ivories. Surprisingly they weren't vandalised. It was a lovely initiative. But they disappeared in July. So I was delighted to find this one earlier this week at St Pancras...shame no one was playing it
They say you don't need a great camera to take a great picture and that's true...but sometimes if you don't have a decent one it's practically impossible to get anything much at all. And here's an example - a beautiful view of the Thames at night...it really was awesome, but just too much for a phone camera. It was small, blurred and rubbish. Thank heavens for Photshop...the mosaic effect turns something that would have been consigned to the recycle bin into something that still achieves its objective - a memory recorded...
For pretty much most everyone, the summer of sport have been and gone...but for some of us the memory will last for ever. One of my fellow volunteers - Peter Szabo - an Hungarian has collected together some pictures to create this video...as he says - the best four months of his life. Our merry troop of volunteers was made of of many nationalities...I guess that's part of the true Olympic spirit! And now you'll know how we all managed to know what we were doing on the night...there was someone whispering in our ears.
Delighted that I even get a credit at the end...although I can't claim it was me that made the recording in the first place.
Yesterday I had the opportunity of spending the evening at HotelGB...in fact I would almost say they were begging me to come along. I'd had another e-mail from them asking me, and I told them 'Yes' before I'd had the chance to think it through, or discuss it with The Cat's Mother. By the time I had, I realised I wasn't that much enthused, due to an over full weekend (more of that later) which had left us both realising that neither of us are 18 any more. We needed a night in. Rather rudely, I ignored the chasing e-mails and telephone calls...I was tired, overworked and more than a little stressed. I suspected I wouldn't be missed...so if you did watch it last night, was there a big empty space in the bar with my name on. I suspect not.
I hear this morning that one diner was so disappointed with the 'sausages and mash' he was presented with that he went and had words with Mr Ramsey... a little fracas developed, and the police are pressing charges - the diner not Gordon though :-(
At home we settled down to dinner and a farce.
We've managed to miss most of the new series of The Thick Of It, which is a shame because it is side-splittingly funny. Fortunately, with the wonders of modern technology known as the iPlayer we were able to see three episodes in one go. It hurt it was so funny. If you were under illusions about politicians and their civil servants then TTOI strips them away faster than a a shoal of piranhas in an Amazonian river.
As we were half-way through our comedy fest, my phone rang...it was the man from the Beeb.
Curious timing. A ten o'clock call from the BBC is not something that happens often, even though I was due to meet this man later this week with a client. It's fair to say that modern technology had got the better of us - a meeting arranged, a meeting postponed, another meeting arranged, a text from a mystery person had all got mixed together which meant a frantic series of phone calls to work out what was going on...the off-screen drama was not a lot different to the on-screen variety. Anyway all resolved just in time for me to return for the last few minutes of Armando Ianucci's gem.
This is a very, very old gate which has just been erected under one of the arches under London bridge. I've no idea what's behind it, although I'm fairly certain it's not alcohol, which it used to safeguard...
