Everything squeaked this morning. The womans shoulder strap on her bag outside the Tate.
The bicycle that sped past on Horseferry Street.
My hips as I finally arrived at LBC.
I left very early.
Walked over Battersea Bridge.
Over Albert Bridge.
Then across Chelsea Bridge.
Right along the embankment. The Number 24 bust past me all the way to Hampstead.
Walked past the Tate Gallery.
Down into office land
By-passed Lambeth Bridge.
There were few people until I arrived on Millbank. Commuters walking in droves into offices. Nobody smiled.
Then as I arrived at Parliament Square Big Ben chimned out 9.00. I got caught up in a group of Japanese tourists, I felt like I was on holiday.
Left down Whitehall, waved at No 10, past the Trafalgar Studio and bang on time at The Cafe de Paris for our Rajar figures. I had no idea what they meant but I still have a job.
I bought a tub of oats and granola from Pret a Manger, they added steaming hot milk. Worra treat.
Into work.
Made a running order. Out into the FIORI caff for a big tall apple juice and a pot of Earl grey.
By the time I got to do the show I had been at it since 7.00a.m. The programme was so moving today. Obe, one of my regulars, called me a wuss and told me to stop crying. I blubbed all over agan.
A quick dash to Gloucester Road for a meeting with my new literary agent. Wonderful I just hope I can do him proud.
Return journey to Leicester Square and a walk in the very cold air to the Trafalgar studio. I had done a complete round trip taking 12 hours. Bumped into three people I hadn’t seen for years.
ENTERTAINING MR. SLOANE with Imelda Staunton was terrific. Really well directed. The four hander was played exquisitly. The trouble was because I had walked so much I had leaping lizards in my legs. The poor girl next to me had to deal with my jiggling thighs.
I took a taxi home. The driver was originally from Canning Town. He told me how he used to jump off the cranes into the Thames when Canary Walk was flat. I tipped him hansomely for his conversation.
I am now in my pj’s and about to collect B from Victoria., She’s been in the studio all evening, is very cold and has left her car back in Brixton, Ah! a mothers love, I need my bed and a hug from the old git but that’ll just have to wait till after midnight.
A big day.
Listen I am now a proper writer…..it’s very exciting….
cuall2morrer.
Who’s your literary agent Jeni, Alistair Deacon? Hope he is as good to you as he is to Lionel! Have another good day and it is most entertaining reading you more regularly now, as time goes by.
Listen – you’ve always been a proper writer! Am going to see Jim tonight – talk to you soon! Lyn x
With all things now literary. Will you be spilling the beans about what happened at GFL? You know it’s like a wound that will never heal for the hardcore!!
Do you really go to Victoria in your pj’s? Full of admiration, thought I was bad going to the village shop for the papers but you’ve given me a whole new world of exciting p.j adventure.
Hi Jeni,
Really enjoy the continued blogs, No other person holds my attention like you do when you’re describing your trips in and around London.
A real joy to read!
Hymie x