Number 11 and still counting

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Getting from here to Leicester Square is turning into a delightful game. The puzzle of London where all roads seem to lead to and from home.
All buses get me near to the Square and all tubes are mere moments away from somewhere.
This morning I set off early, having meditated and researched the programme, the weather was satisfactorily mild and the light perfect for an energetic stroll

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A day at the Office.

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Th Italian caff on the corner of Leicester Square is like being on the continent.
The waitresses are ever so slightly surly, the waitors musically inclined, the paying customers mostly foreign and the big portions of food are served up on big white plates.
Wherever you sit there is a big window to look out of.
The Hippodrome, or Wyndhams Theatre, or The Spotlight offices – for the actors don’t you know – Leicester Square itself. It really feels like you’re a tourist.
This morning Steve Allen and I shared a table.
He had a bagel and Earl grey tea.
I had baked beans, scrambled egg – with a tomato and sprig of parsley garnish, and a cup of coffee.

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To party or not to party

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My eye was glued together when I woke up.
Now it could be an eye-lash ( or ash-leye as Bee used to call it) or my insomnia.
Whatever it is I woke up this morning in a fowl temper.
Jim had decamped to the spare room – he’s dangerously close to opening night – so I woke alone and gummed up.

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The night before Barakaday

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It’s all slowly revealing itself. Today the show was grown up and informative. Took a taxi home too tired to walk. Although this morning I found another route to South Kensington Station. I could hear myself chuntering to myself as I walked new streets.. Tonight I leapt into my pj’s and settled down with Jim … Read more

Two days before inaugeration day.

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Made the guest list for my 60th. Found the venue. Sorted the invites. Travelled back from the cottage in my pyjamas. Bought just the one Sunday newspaper. Put in the washing,. Blitzed the cottage. Tidied the flat and now I’m curling up for Sunday evening. night night.

Excuses I have not………

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Yes know I should be ashamed of myself.
I have no excuse, well actually I have, my keyboard kept jumping and missing letters, and my frustration level was so I High I wanted to scream
Yesterday morning, whilst the old git was dressing I complained yet again about the useless nature of my keyboard. May I remind you that I have had to paint in the ‘N’ and ‘L’ in pearlised nail varnish as I’ve worn away the letters. Why the ‘N’ and ‘L’ should give up the ghost I’llllllllll NNNNNNNNNNNNever Knnnnnnnnnnnnnnnow.
There he was semi naked studying my keyboard when I saw the light bulb ping over his head.
A good old fashioned 60 watt light bulb may I add, anyway he turned the keyboard over, opened a flap and took out two batteries.
He replaced them with two new ones and before you could say will you go and put some underpoants on, I was up and running, well up and typing.

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Thorsday

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The Groucho Club, in Dean Street, is my actors club.
Bernie makes life sweet, he hugs me in reception and makes me feel like Lisa Minnelli.
I took Pammie and Paul, who are over from new York. I had a coffee they had wine.
We then went to my favourite Chinese restaurant in China town and had ‘margerine prawns’ which sound offensive but taste divine.
We had a meal for two because the meal for three would have been too much, after which I grabbed a taxi and came home in the fog.

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twitter or be damned

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Cirque Soleil, Sunset Boulvevard two totally different experiences. One was big, in the Albert Hall, acrobats, ropes and headless overcoats, the other small, intimate with a team of actor musicians who somehow managed to make love whilst holding a trumpet. Both recommended. I am,understandably, ready to put on my pyjamas and start work on THE … Read more