A busy day today, not helped by the Dr's work Christmas party last night, after which we bumped by chance into my senior brother and forced him to drink beer. Eventually got home to terrorise the cat, who the Dr thinks has the same mad, weasely face as the new Dr Who.
Up earlyish to get some writing done, and thence to see D. to borrow electrical hardware and do Grant Mitchell impressions. He laughed at my feeble Oirish, which came out sort of Scouse. Hum ho.
Then into town to pick up my terribly expensive new toy, which records voices in a number of clever ways. Had to queue and queue to collect it. London seems crazy-packed. Apparently there's some kooky ethnic festival happening this weekend. Political correctness gone mad if you ask me.
Then to the pub, where I'd barely begun my HUUUUGE club sandwich when televison's Paul Cornell arrived. We had a very pleasant chat about all sorts of everything, bits of which I have now transcribed. More interviewing tomorrow and Friday, but I'm not going to tell you what it's all in aid of yet. This is because I am a master of intrigue, and also a bit annoying. Be patient. It is the Jedi way, and all will be revealed in time.
Now sat in the easyeverything on Tottenham Court Road, and am due at a birthday bash later. M. has just txtd to say he's finished work, so I might even dare some nosh with him.
Such is my whirlwind rollercoaster life. Pip pip.