Let's face it, most newspaper editors have problems with printers and deadlines, with equipment and distribution. However, it is very annoying to have the same problems at home.
To recap:
Point one: My Dad was given our old iMac, scanner and printer by my mother for Christmas. My mother paid secretary and me the money to buy a new flash three-in-one printer/scanner/copier as a replacement. You already know that.
Point two: When loading the software for the printer onto my iBook on the day of the Billie Piper letter I discovered that I couldn't use it with the Mac OSX operating system I had and had to load it onto secretary's pc laptop to print it instead. You know that too.
Point three: This Sunday we had the special screening of Songbook and the handing out of DVDs of the show. More of all that in a moment. I've mentioned that.
Point four: I did the DVD label and cover for the box a couple of weeks ago and gave them to previous director who was editing the recording to print but was due to do the booklet insert at work last week so that I could print it there. And that one as well.
Point five: I was so busy with work on Friday that I didn't leave until just before 11pm anyway, so I had no time to finish and print the booklets.
Point six: So I therefore had to do them at the weekend.
If you have made it this far you will probably have spotted the fundamental flaw in point six. I couldn't actually use the printer at home...
Well there's a solution to everything isn't there. and the solution to this problem was simple. Get the latest operating system for my iBook and upgrade it.
Simple stuff. But don't forget about the deadline, deadline, deadline, whispering away at the back of the mind.
Now there are Mac users and there are PC users and I won't go into a long detailed explaination of why Macs are far, far better than PCs here and now. Well other than to say of course they are and don't argue.
One problem with Macs however is that because they are the elite of the computer world, there are fewer stockists...
Well on Saturday morning I rang the Apple Centre in Brentford to check that they had the OSX Tiger operating system in stock - just in case - well actually because secretary told me to. After all she would be driving me there.
Of course they didn't. I asked where else might. PC World I was told. Oh the shame of it. A Mac man having to ring PC World. Did they have it in stock at either their Slough or Staines stores. No, of course not.
So off I went on a jolly little jaunt to the Apple Store in Regent Street. Oh the things I do for CAST on a Saturday afternoon. I spent the journey to and fro learning my lines with the recording of the show on my iPod so it wasn't time entirely wasted.
So I returned with Tiger plus the latest version of Adobe Photoshop Elements to sort out the pictures. And I began loading the software...
Now these are not small items. An entirely new operating system for your computer takes a little while to sort itself out. Suffice to say that I went to bed at gone midnight leaving the Photoshop stuff still loading.
Sunday was our first setbuild day, but I spent the afternoon sorting bits out for the Mort programme and then loading the printer software...
And finally, at about 5.45 I was ready to start printing the booklets.
Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines.
By now previous director was gathering together the last of the 18 DVDs he had managed to copy ready to race down to the village hall and set up the screen and equipment for the show.
Meanwhile back at the nightmare ranch...
I had put the booklets together with the publishing trade's number one tool, QuarkXPress. It's a wonderful thing. I have worked with it from my first days as a sub-editor at the Windsor & Slough Express through various generations of the software. There is nothing to match it as a layout and editing programme.
Every time I do a poster or programme or leaflet or postcard for Cast It gets done with QuarkXPress.
I have version 4.1 at home. It's not bad. To give you an idea, we had 3.2 on our Macs at work until a few months ago. I now have 4.1 on a Mac and version 6.0 on a PC.
Anyway, here's a crucial little techie bit - 4.1 will only operate on Mac operating system OS9, which I also have on my iBook. To use it on OSX or Tiger I would have to get an upgrade to version 6.0 or 7.0.
Am I boring you? Well it was all boring me on Sunday.
So here you are. The result of my endeavours. A series of equations which do not have an answer.
OSX Tiger on iBook can use printer. Tick in the box - bought it in London.
QuarkXPress can run in OS9 on iBook. Tick in the box - already there.
OOOOPS! S**t, b*****s, b*m.
Yes I couldn't print from QuarkXPress in OS9 as the printer would only work with software in OSX Tiger.
Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines.
Nothing to be done. No booklets.
And people would have loved them too.
So they will now have to go out separately at some point in the future once I have moved all the documents to work. I see another trip to the Apple Store to pick up a new version of QuarkXPress on the horizon.
Technology is a wonderful thing... except when you have to use it.
PS. If you hate all this sort of techno-gibberish you have my apologies. But don't worry. I do too.
Thought for the day: 'You are the apple of my eye...' You Are The Sunshine Of My Life. Stevie Wonder. And plenty of other people in other places. It's probably from Shakespeare. I'll check.
Tuesday, February 27
Thursday, February 22
Right of reply
As with all reporters, I operate to the highest standards and should anyone feel they have been subject to a libel on the site then I will act accordingly.
I would therefore like to offer an alternative version of the entry pain and paintings...
My entry
DIRECTOR HER: Be very careful, remember he's badly hurt himself.
Corrected to:
DIRECTOR HER (mid scene): Watch his ribs!
and
I would therefore like to offer an alternative version of the entry pain and paintings...
My entry
DIRECTOR HER: Be very careful, remember he's badly hurt himself.
Corrected to:
DIRECTOR HER (mid scene): Watch his ribs!
and
My entry
DIRECTOR HER: I shouted out to be careful.....!!!
Corrected to:
well, nothing... cos that was never shouted!
also a clarification on one other part of the entry
My entry
"The ginger one broke the scythe as well. And he almost broke the sword. Well OK not really. But the switch to turn on the blue lights along the side of the blade won't move and needs replacing. Another task for set man to worry about."
Correction
The cheap Maplin switch failed to last more than two rehearsals. Better it broke early in rehearsal stage anyway isn't it than on the second night of performance?
and
The swords life was perfectly safe all evening!
allaboutdeath.blogspot.com is happy to publish these corrections and apologises for any inconvenience or distress caused.
Oh yeah and he WAS holding the scythe when the switch broke.
We'll se how rehearsal of that scene goes this evening... The show is actually quite violent. Ysabell gets to slap both of us and I get to stick the scythe into his nuts. The handle end that is. The other doesn't bear thinking about.
Thought for the day: 'All right now baby it's a-all right now.' Free. Free. Paul Rogers.
Chocolate
I forgot to say. Lent starts on Ash Wednesday. Albert told me so, quite properly pointing out that I am a heathen. He's a good catholic boy. Well good might be stretching things a little. Apparently his mum always used to tell him Lent ended on Easter Sunday. Then one day he counted out 40 days and worked out it actually ends on Palm Sunday. That's a whole week of eating chocolate he was deprived of for years and years. Outrageous.
Thought for the day:
'If love were liquid it would drown me
In a placeless place would find me
In a heart shape come around me and then
Melt me slowly down
If love were human it would know me
In a lost space come and show me
Hold me and control me and then
Melt me slowly down
Like chocolate'
Chocolate. Body Language. Kylie. I had never thought of it as a religious song before. Funny how you can miss these things.
Thought for the day:
'If love were liquid it would drown me
In a placeless place would find me
In a heart shape come around me and then
Melt me slowly down
If love were human it would know me
In a lost space come and show me
Hold me and control me and then
Melt me slowly down
Like chocolate'
Chocolate. Body Language. Kylie. I had never thought of it as a religious song before. Funny how you can miss these things.
The late, late, late show.
Previous producer has to get up at some ridiculous time in the morning to get to work. Like 5am or something equally stupid. I have caught the same train as her about twice. She was probably doing a half day and I was going in really, really early.
Now look at the reverse side of the coin. She stays up rather late. As ridiculously late as she has to get up. Have a look at her blog from the last show, allaboutdick.blogspot.com and see the time of the entries. That's the time she started writing them, not when she finished.
I can only conclude that she is a witch. She has to get up before she has gone to bed, so that is the only conclusion I can draw. In fact she's playing a wizard in the show.... so that's it.
Previous director is similar, but he works on the don't go to bed at all principle.
So when I tell you that we had a CAST committee meeting last night followed by a Mort production meeting, held at previous producer's house as committee meetings always are, and that we finished at gone midnight, at which point previous director then had to go through one or two important other issues, you will understand.
Having one after the other might seem ludicrous, but we always spend a large chunk of committee meetings discussing the current production, it isn't actually such a mad idea. We were still discussing committee stuff when director her arrived at 10ish, and still discussing them when director him arrived about 20 minutes later having been training staff all night. He now the record for the latest arrival at a CAST committee meeting.
Most things are progressing well. We're going to ask whether we can put the stage extension up early so that we can work on Keli's bedroom and DEATH's study before the final long weekend. There are one or two extra costume issues which previous producer needed opinions on. This weekend there's going to be a lot of ironing to do. We can't go to Warwick Castle for a photo shoot, so it is probably going to be a few of us in Windsor instead We're still hunting for a white/grey horse (depending on how you describe it). Set man is going to take photos of people this evening and on Monday for the programme. Producer geezer is going to sort out the biogs for the programme, once I can get the old ones to him. All good stuff.
This morning I had a great piece of news. Grundon waste management are going to sponsor our show again, paying for the publicity production costs to the tune of £680. I rang director him, director her and previous director to give them the good news. Director him is especially pleased. If you remember, he is also the CAST treasurer. Happy man.
Thought for the day: 'Show me the way to go home, I'm tired and I want to go to bed...' Just about everyone who's ever recorded a song anywhere ever. And a lot of drunk people outside pubs at closing time. Including me. Probably.
Now look at the reverse side of the coin. She stays up rather late. As ridiculously late as she has to get up. Have a look at her blog from the last show, allaboutdick.blogspot.com and see the time of the entries. That's the time she started writing them, not when she finished.
I can only conclude that she is a witch. She has to get up before she has gone to bed, so that is the only conclusion I can draw. In fact she's playing a wizard in the show.... so that's it.
Previous director is similar, but he works on the don't go to bed at all principle.
So when I tell you that we had a CAST committee meeting last night followed by a Mort production meeting, held at previous producer's house as committee meetings always are, and that we finished at gone midnight, at which point previous director then had to go through one or two important other issues, you will understand.
Having one after the other might seem ludicrous, but we always spend a large chunk of committee meetings discussing the current production, it isn't actually such a mad idea. We were still discussing committee stuff when director her arrived at 10ish, and still discussing them when director him arrived about 20 minutes later having been training staff all night. He now the record for the latest arrival at a CAST committee meeting.
Most things are progressing well. We're going to ask whether we can put the stage extension up early so that we can work on Keli's bedroom and DEATH's study before the final long weekend. There are one or two extra costume issues which previous producer needed opinions on. This weekend there's going to be a lot of ironing to do. We can't go to Warwick Castle for a photo shoot, so it is probably going to be a few of us in Windsor instead We're still hunting for a white/grey horse (depending on how you describe it). Set man is going to take photos of people this evening and on Monday for the programme. Producer geezer is going to sort out the biogs for the programme, once I can get the old ones to him. All good stuff.
This morning I had a great piece of news. Grundon waste management are going to sponsor our show again, paying for the publicity production costs to the tune of £680. I rang director him, director her and previous director to give them the good news. Director him is especially pleased. If you remember, he is also the CAST treasurer. Happy man.
Thought for the day: 'Show me the way to go home, I'm tired and I want to go to bed...' Just about everyone who's ever recorded a song anywhere ever. And a lot of drunk people outside pubs at closing time. Including me. Probably.
Tuesday, February 20
Pain and paintings
CUTWELL:
Are you sure this couldn't be sorted out by just getting round a table -
MORT/DEATH
NO.
CUTWELL
One...Two...
(and they start fighting. Slow motion. Strobe effect)
DIRECTOR HER:
Be very careful, remember he's badly hurt himself.
KELI:
They both cheated!
YSABELL:
Of course.
(As they fight the DUKE's hourglass is knocked off the desk or shelf and breaks on the ground)
The Duke of Sto Helit!
KELI:
Isn't there something we can do?
YSABELL:
Mort will lose either way.
(MORT shows signs of tiredness)
DEATH:
YIELD, I MAY BE MERCIFUL. THUS IT ENDS, BOY.
MORT:
Mort. Mort. Mort, you bastard!
DIRECTOR HER/REST OF CAST:
Noooo!
(MORT flies at DEATH in a fury, and DEATH is driven back against a wall, he crumples and tries to fend MORT off with cries of 'Ouch!')
DIRECTOR HER/REST OF CAST:
Stop! You're really hurting him.
MORT:
Sorry mate - are you all right?
DEATH:
No, you've hit me on my fractured rib.
MORT:
Oh no! I didn't know!
DIRECTOR HER:
I shouted out to be careful.....!!!
I think the ginger one felt pretty bad after that incident, although probably not as bad as I did when I got up this morning. Secretary is threatening to send him texts calling him a 'beastly boy'.
My ribs are just one element of the effects of my fall. Actually I think plummet is probably a better term. Anyway, I have also discovered that when you smack your knee on something hard, as the knee cannot bruise a ring of bruising appears around the knee. It, and particularly my upper calf are both a lovely mix of yellow and purple.
The ginger one broke the scythe as well. And he almost broke the sword. Well OK not really. But the switch to turn on the blue lights along the side of the blade won't move and needs replacing. Another task for set man to worry about.
Director her gave me her artwork for the poster/postcards/programme last night. Well I say artwork, what I mean is painting. It's fab! DEATH and Mort on Binky (and she really is very, very good at drawing horses) with the Discworld beneath. You can even see one of The Great A'Tuin's er... are they called flippers? I'm not really an expert on large turtles that fly through space carrying elephants holding entire worlds on their backs.
Of course secretary very carefully put it away in her bag so that no-one spilt beer or tea on it.
When we got home we put it on the table in our lounge. This morning I went to get it to take to work. I looked. It wasn't there. Or rather I should say the sketch pad was there, but her painting wasn't. Two other drawings. No Mort artwork. Cue expletives from secretary and producer. 'Someone must have taken it out of my bag.' 'The ******* ***** probably wanted to have a look at it and forgot to put it back in the ******* bag.' 'I can't believe it. Who'd be so stupid?'
Tonight I rang director her. I told her about it and asked who the last two people to leave the hall were, hoping someone had picked it up. The last two out were director him and director her. Then she asked if we were sure they had taken it out as they would have had to rip it out of the pad.... 'It was quite sticky around the edge, maybe it has got stuck to the back of.........'
DEATH
What do you call the feeling of being very small and hot?
DIRECTOR HER:
Please don't do that to me again!!!!!!
Thought for the day: 'By my troth Nerissa, my little body is a-wearie of this world.' Portia to Nerissa. Act I Scene II. The Merchant of Venice. Willy Shaker. Regularly quoted by my dear secretary. Just spoken as she headed upstairs to bed. She has just added 'Now quit your care and anxious fear and worry for schemes are vain and fretting brings no gain.' That's from a hymn. Apparently. She says it's the start of Lent so we should have a hymn. Well we had pancakes tonight. Actually, when does Lent start? On Ash Wednesday? Or is it the day after Ash Wednesday? I'm sure I have had this conversation with Albert before. Maybe he or one of my lapsed catholic friends could assist on this one...
Are you sure this couldn't be sorted out by just getting round a table -
MORT/DEATH
NO.
CUTWELL
One...Two...
(and they start fighting. Slow motion. Strobe effect)
DIRECTOR HER:
Be very careful, remember he's badly hurt himself.
KELI:
They both cheated!
YSABELL:
Of course.
(As they fight the DUKE's hourglass is knocked off the desk or shelf and breaks on the ground)
The Duke of Sto Helit!
KELI:
Isn't there something we can do?
YSABELL:
Mort will lose either way.
(MORT shows signs of tiredness)
DEATH:
YIELD, I MAY BE MERCIFUL. THUS IT ENDS, BOY.
MORT:
Mort. Mort. Mort, you bastard!
DIRECTOR HER/REST OF CAST:
Noooo!
(MORT flies at DEATH in a fury, and DEATH is driven back against a wall, he crumples and tries to fend MORT off with cries of 'Ouch!')
DIRECTOR HER/REST OF CAST:
Stop! You're really hurting him.
MORT:
Sorry mate - are you all right?
DEATH:
No, you've hit me on my fractured rib.
MORT:
Oh no! I didn't know!
DIRECTOR HER:
I shouted out to be careful.....!!!
I think the ginger one felt pretty bad after that incident, although probably not as bad as I did when I got up this morning. Secretary is threatening to send him texts calling him a 'beastly boy'.
My ribs are just one element of the effects of my fall. Actually I think plummet is probably a better term. Anyway, I have also discovered that when you smack your knee on something hard, as the knee cannot bruise a ring of bruising appears around the knee. It, and particularly my upper calf are both a lovely mix of yellow and purple.
The ginger one broke the scythe as well. And he almost broke the sword. Well OK not really. But the switch to turn on the blue lights along the side of the blade won't move and needs replacing. Another task for set man to worry about.
Director her gave me her artwork for the poster/postcards/programme last night. Well I say artwork, what I mean is painting. It's fab! DEATH and Mort on Binky (and she really is very, very good at drawing horses) with the Discworld beneath. You can even see one of The Great A'Tuin's er... are they called flippers? I'm not really an expert on large turtles that fly through space carrying elephants holding entire worlds on their backs.
Of course secretary very carefully put it away in her bag so that no-one spilt beer or tea on it.
When we got home we put it on the table in our lounge. This morning I went to get it to take to work. I looked. It wasn't there. Or rather I should say the sketch pad was there, but her painting wasn't. Two other drawings. No Mort artwork. Cue expletives from secretary and producer. 'Someone must have taken it out of my bag.' 'The ******* ***** probably wanted to have a look at it and forgot to put it back in the ******* bag.' 'I can't believe it. Who'd be so stupid?'
Tonight I rang director her. I told her about it and asked who the last two people to leave the hall were, hoping someone had picked it up. The last two out were director him and director her. Then she asked if we were sure they had taken it out as they would have had to rip it out of the pad.... 'It was quite sticky around the edge, maybe it has got stuck to the back of.........'
DEATH
What do you call the feeling of being very small and hot?
DIRECTOR HER:
Please don't do that to me again!!!!!!
Thought for the day: 'By my troth Nerissa, my little body is a-wearie of this world.' Portia to Nerissa. Act I Scene II. The Merchant of Venice. Willy Shaker. Regularly quoted by my dear secretary. Just spoken as she headed upstairs to bed. She has just added 'Now quit your care and anxious fear and worry for schemes are vain and fretting brings no gain.' That's from a hymn. Apparently. She says it's the start of Lent so we should have a hymn. Well we had pancakes tonight. Actually, when does Lent start? On Ash Wednesday? Or is it the day after Ash Wednesday? I'm sure I have had this conversation with Albert before. Maybe he or one of my lapsed catholic friends could assist on this one...
I can't fly
That's one thing I have in common with Orville The Duck.
I found out last Monday by 'flying through the air with the greatest of ease, like the daring young man on the flying trapeze', as the song goes. You see, I was trying to be helpful. That can land you in an awful lot of trouble.
I will make my story as brief as possible. But I do say 'try'.
We don't have a gents toilet (or a ladies for that matter) in our office. It's the same for every company in the building. We don't have a kitchen either. If you want the ladies it's the first, third or fifth floor of the six-storey office block. If you need the gents then it's the second or fourth. The communal kitchen is on the third floor at the opposite end of the building to all these toilets.
Now no-one much goes through the fire door at the end of the corridor past the kitchen. There are no offices to be found that way. But there hides a secret... a small stairwell with a toilet on every mezzanine floor on the way down.
It is a place of solitude used by 'those in the know'. Our Leisure Editor uses it. So does our 72-year-old marathon-running part-time sub-editor. But then he has a good excuse - he uses the kitchen the most to make us all cups of tea. Our circulation manager used to use it before he was made redundant. Then there's maybe half-a-dozen others who work in the offices nearest to the kitchen. That's about it.
Then of course there's the cleaner. Let's face it, it's a pretty good job she does know it's there... and last Monday I came out of that toilet and started up the steps towards the kitchen, to meet her coming down the steps towards me, bucket and mop in hand. She's Portuguese (there's a huge Portuguese and Brazilian community in Harlesden and Kensal Green) and very friendly although her English is limited. Far better than my Portuguese mind you.
She asked me whether there was anyone else in the toilet. Being helpful I said I would check for her and turned round halfway up the stairs. That was the crucial decision. Trying to be helpful.
I have epilepsy. It takes two forms. One, major seizures where I fall to the ground and shake all over, bite my tongue etc as you always see it portrayed. Fortunately that has not been a regular problem for more than 12 years. Two, absences where for a moment I will be totally unaware of what is going on around me and then 'come round' maybe two to five seconds later. This will mean my eyes glaze over and if people are talking to me I will just say 'hmmn' a lot. My body will carry on with normal activities. One flatmate watched me continue tying my shoelaces while I had 'blanked out'. I have been making a cup of coffee and put the spoonful of coffee straight into my mouth rather than into the cup. That's not nice. Nicer, however, than what happened when I blanked out on the stairs.
On this occasion I came to not going 'bleuuugh! what's that horrible taste in my mouth' but 'oh dear, the floor seems to be coming towards me at an alarming speed and I think I'm going to bang my.... thud'. Six or seven steps up. Concrete floor. Thin office carpet. Ouch.
Fortunately my glasses fell off during my fall. Fortunately I turned so that I landed on the side of my head not on my face. Fortunately I hit the area between my ear and eye and not my chin.
Cue very upset cleaner. She grabs a bloke aho happens to be in the kitchen to look after me. She then goes down to the ground floor to get the guy from reception. Then they get me some water. Then he goes down to our office to get my deputy. Then he gets a rag from the kitchen for me to hold against my head. Then the cleaner goes into the nearby offices to see if anyone has any ice in a mini-bar. She reappears with an ice-tray and puts some ice into the cloth. After a while holding that against my head I move downstairs and sit in my office for about half an hour hoping that the ice will work quickly and I can get on with my work - after all, it is a Monday.
Eventually our Swedish reporter comes in and tells me that I have to go to hospital as she had a similar thing happen to her and she had to stay in hospital overnight when she was younger. So my deputy drives me to Hammersmith Hospital...
See receptionist. Wait in lobby. See nurse. Go back to wait in lobby. See doctor. Wait in corridor. Be X-rayed. Wait in corridor. See doctor again. But I hadn't fractured anything that the doctor could see. So he told me to rest and be careful....
Thought for the day: 'Those magnificent men in their flying machines, they go up tiddly-om-pom, they go down tiddly-own-down.' Lord only knows. It was a film, but was it something else first? Someone look it up on the internet and tell me.
I found out last Monday by 'flying through the air with the greatest of ease, like the daring young man on the flying trapeze', as the song goes. You see, I was trying to be helpful. That can land you in an awful lot of trouble.
I will make my story as brief as possible. But I do say 'try'.
We don't have a gents toilet (or a ladies for that matter) in our office. It's the same for every company in the building. We don't have a kitchen either. If you want the ladies it's the first, third or fifth floor of the six-storey office block. If you need the gents then it's the second or fourth. The communal kitchen is on the third floor at the opposite end of the building to all these toilets.
Now no-one much goes through the fire door at the end of the corridor past the kitchen. There are no offices to be found that way. But there hides a secret... a small stairwell with a toilet on every mezzanine floor on the way down.
It is a place of solitude used by 'those in the know'. Our Leisure Editor uses it. So does our 72-year-old marathon-running part-time sub-editor. But then he has a good excuse - he uses the kitchen the most to make us all cups of tea. Our circulation manager used to use it before he was made redundant. Then there's maybe half-a-dozen others who work in the offices nearest to the kitchen. That's about it.
Then of course there's the cleaner. Let's face it, it's a pretty good job she does know it's there... and last Monday I came out of that toilet and started up the steps towards the kitchen, to meet her coming down the steps towards me, bucket and mop in hand. She's Portuguese (there's a huge Portuguese and Brazilian community in Harlesden and Kensal Green) and very friendly although her English is limited. Far better than my Portuguese mind you.
She asked me whether there was anyone else in the toilet. Being helpful I said I would check for her and turned round halfway up the stairs. That was the crucial decision. Trying to be helpful.
I have epilepsy. It takes two forms. One, major seizures where I fall to the ground and shake all over, bite my tongue etc as you always see it portrayed. Fortunately that has not been a regular problem for more than 12 years. Two, absences where for a moment I will be totally unaware of what is going on around me and then 'come round' maybe two to five seconds later. This will mean my eyes glaze over and if people are talking to me I will just say 'hmmn' a lot. My body will carry on with normal activities. One flatmate watched me continue tying my shoelaces while I had 'blanked out'. I have been making a cup of coffee and put the spoonful of coffee straight into my mouth rather than into the cup. That's not nice. Nicer, however, than what happened when I blanked out on the stairs.
On this occasion I came to not going 'bleuuugh! what's that horrible taste in my mouth' but 'oh dear, the floor seems to be coming towards me at an alarming speed and I think I'm going to bang my.... thud'. Six or seven steps up. Concrete floor. Thin office carpet. Ouch.
Fortunately my glasses fell off during my fall. Fortunately I turned so that I landed on the side of my head not on my face. Fortunately I hit the area between my ear and eye and not my chin.
Cue very upset cleaner. She grabs a bloke aho happens to be in the kitchen to look after me. She then goes down to the ground floor to get the guy from reception. Then they get me some water. Then he goes down to our office to get my deputy. Then he gets a rag from the kitchen for me to hold against my head. Then the cleaner goes into the nearby offices to see if anyone has any ice in a mini-bar. She reappears with an ice-tray and puts some ice into the cloth. After a while holding that against my head I move downstairs and sit in my office for about half an hour hoping that the ice will work quickly and I can get on with my work - after all, it is a Monday.
Eventually our Swedish reporter comes in and tells me that I have to go to hospital as she had a similar thing happen to her and she had to stay in hospital overnight when she was younger. So my deputy drives me to Hammersmith Hospital...
See receptionist. Wait in lobby. See nurse. Go back to wait in lobby. See doctor. Wait in corridor. Be X-rayed. Wait in corridor. See doctor again. But I hadn't fractured anything that the doctor could see. So he told me to rest and be careful....
Thought for the day: 'Those magnificent men in their flying machines, they go up tiddly-om-pom, they go down tiddly-own-down.' Lord only knows. It was a film, but was it something else first? Someone look it up on the internet and tell me.
Monday, February 19
Head lines
My head hurts. Not as much as it did this time last week though. At this point seven days ago I was emerging from Hammersmith Hospital having been told that I hadn't fractured my skull. Which was some kind of compensation.
I'll explain exactly what happened at a point when looking into a computer screen for extended periods of time doesn't increase my headache.
For the moment I shall confine myself to saying that I missed both rehearsals last week In the meantime director her has drawn the poster, which I shall be given at the rehearsal tonight, previous producer has been hard at work sorting costumes and secretary has confirmed that NODA will review the show and that we will have a visit from the Mayor of Slough who apparently is a huge Pratchett fan.
We have a committee meeting on Wednesday which will become a production meeting at some point part way through. More details about how the world has progressed in the past few days will be forthcoming then and of course tonight at rehearsal.
Thought for the day: 'Since you been gone, since you been gone, I'm out of my head can't take it...' Rainbow. Zippy & George. Oh yes. No I won't explain. Well not now anyway. (I had to choose a piece of headbanging music... ho! ho! ho!)
I'll explain exactly what happened at a point when looking into a computer screen for extended periods of time doesn't increase my headache.
For the moment I shall confine myself to saying that I missed both rehearsals last week In the meantime director her has drawn the poster, which I shall be given at the rehearsal tonight, previous producer has been hard at work sorting costumes and secretary has confirmed that NODA will review the show and that we will have a visit from the Mayor of Slough who apparently is a huge Pratchett fan.
We have a committee meeting on Wednesday which will become a production meeting at some point part way through. More details about how the world has progressed in the past few days will be forthcoming then and of course tonight at rehearsal.
Thought for the day: 'Since you been gone, since you been gone, I'm out of my head can't take it...' Rainbow. Zippy & George. Oh yes. No I won't explain. Well not now anyway. (I had to choose a piece of headbanging music... ho! ho! ho!)
Sunday, February 11
Radio Ga-ga
We have become pretty good at publicising our shows in recent years. There are the usual posters around the village and local shops. There are postcards through all the letterboxes in the village. Actually, the postcards idea was devised by rincewind when he directed his self-penned play Stranded this time last year and they have been used for each show since. Neat. Then there are the leaflets for handing out at 'events'. These occasions vary from village fetes for the summer show to turning on the Christmas lights for panto.
Last summer in the stinking heat we walked round Wexham Park hospital handing postcards out to the staff. In and out of the offices, along the wards and into the cafeteria. Not into the nurses quarters though, which upset director him no end. Especially as he was dressed as a Roman centurion at the time.
I spent a long hot day (the hottest of the summer) trudging up and down the Bath Road in Slough Trading Estate persuading companies that, yes, they really did want a couple of posters and 20-odd postcards to promote the show through their staff social club/restaurant/staff noticeboards/foyer tables. I would like to point out that this was during the World Cup. I would also like to point out that I had taken time off work to watch the football. I would finally like to point out that I missed the first half of one of the games in order to do this distribution of publicity material. Dedicated or daft? I sometimes wonder.
We have good contacts with the local press. Well town crier works for the Express so we do have an advantage there. The Observer are pretty good to us too as they hate to be outdone by their rivals. So much so, that they sometimes end up giving us even better coverage.
But one of the great recent successes has been through radio. We are lucky to have a great relationship with Time 106.6 FM, the radio station in Slough. So good that producer geezer arranged, as I said he would, for director him and footnote to go in today to record an advert which will be played twice a day from now until the show. All the ones we have done before have been top class. I am looking forward to hearing this one. It's a great way to reach people outside our normal catchment area, and for TP I think that can only be a really, really good thing.
I will say something else about the power of radio. We had Virgin on when we were doing the big costume sort-out last weekend. They have this really annoying advert which has part of Queen's I Want It All as the soundtrack. I love Queen. I have all their albums and saw them live on two different tours. However, I do not want to hear part of one of their songs 20 times in the course of a day. Please.
I was singing it all day the next day. And the day after that. The following day secretary and I were driving along happily listening to Virgin in the car and the first 'I Wa...' came on and I turned the radio off instantly. That is bad advertising. Really bad. In fact it's so bad that I can't tell you what product they were advertising. Really.
Thought for the day:
'I go out to work on Monday morning,
Tuesday I go off to honeymoon,
I'll be back again before it's time for sunny-down,
I'll be lazing on a Sunday afternoon.
Bicycling on every Wednesday evening,
Thursday I go waltzing to the zoo,
I come from London Town I'm just an ordinary guy,
Fridays I go painting in the Louvre,
I'm bound to be proposing on a Saturday night,
(There he goes again)
I'll be lazing on a Sunday,
Lazing on a Sunday,
Lazing on a Sunday afternoon.'
Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon. Freddie Mercury. A Night At The Opera. Queen.
Last summer in the stinking heat we walked round Wexham Park hospital handing postcards out to the staff. In and out of the offices, along the wards and into the cafeteria. Not into the nurses quarters though, which upset director him no end. Especially as he was dressed as a Roman centurion at the time.
I spent a long hot day (the hottest of the summer) trudging up and down the Bath Road in Slough Trading Estate persuading companies that, yes, they really did want a couple of posters and 20-odd postcards to promote the show through their staff social club/restaurant/staff noticeboards/foyer tables. I would like to point out that this was during the World Cup. I would also like to point out that I had taken time off work to watch the football. I would finally like to point out that I missed the first half of one of the games in order to do this distribution of publicity material. Dedicated or daft? I sometimes wonder.
We have good contacts with the local press. Well town crier works for the Express so we do have an advantage there. The Observer are pretty good to us too as they hate to be outdone by their rivals. So much so, that they sometimes end up giving us even better coverage.
But one of the great recent successes has been through radio. We are lucky to have a great relationship with Time 106.6 FM, the radio station in Slough. So good that producer geezer arranged, as I said he would, for director him and footnote to go in today to record an advert which will be played twice a day from now until the show. All the ones we have done before have been top class. I am looking forward to hearing this one. It's a great way to reach people outside our normal catchment area, and for TP I think that can only be a really, really good thing.
I will say something else about the power of radio. We had Virgin on when we were doing the big costume sort-out last weekend. They have this really annoying advert which has part of Queen's I Want It All as the soundtrack. I love Queen. I have all their albums and saw them live on two different tours. However, I do not want to hear part of one of their songs 20 times in the course of a day. Please.
I was singing it all day the next day. And the day after that. The following day secretary and I were driving along happily listening to Virgin in the car and the first 'I Wa...' came on and I turned the radio off instantly. That is bad advertising. Really bad. In fact it's so bad that I can't tell you what product they were advertising. Really.
Thought for the day:
'I go out to work on Monday morning,
Tuesday I go off to honeymoon,
I'll be back again before it's time for sunny-down,
I'll be lazing on a Sunday afternoon.
Bicycling on every Wednesday evening,
Thursday I go waltzing to the zoo,
I come from London Town I'm just an ordinary guy,
Fridays I go painting in the Louvre,
I'm bound to be proposing on a Saturday night,
(There he goes again)
I'll be lazing on a Sunday,
Lazing on a Sunday,
Lazing on a Sunday afternoon.'
Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon. Freddie Mercury. A Night At The Opera. Queen.
Thursday, February 8
Jolly chilly
Two good nights, with a lot of snow and 210 works of art inbetween. What am I talking about. Well it's pretty abstract I know, but then so was a lot of the art...
Last night a few of us... well OK then... director him, director her, producer, the ginger one, Albert, Ysabell, Cutwell, previous producer, footnote and bursar... gathered at the hall to record the entire show so that the cast can use it to learn their lines. We reckon we can sell the recordings on front of house. Or maybe not.
Footnote and producer did come up with a good knock, knock joke though. 'Knock, knock.' 'Who's there?' 'Ysabell.' 'Ysabell who?' 'Is ya bell not working?' Well we reckoned it was very, very funny and don't care what you think.
It was bloody cold down there. It always is in the hall. This, however, was ridiculous. As I had expected, secretary didn't join us. She was and still is feeling pants. I mean as in 'not well'. I don't mean as in my underwear. Although she does do that too. For sorting out the laundry of course. Yes.
Anyway, it was, as I said, a trifle cold. The coldest night of the year so far to my reckoning. There was plenty of snow when I woke up this morning. Needless to say, it took 40 minutes for a cab to get to the house and 45 minutes to do the normal five minute journey to Langley station. Mad. I cannot believe the way the whole country stops with a small fall of snow. Our Swedish reporter at the paper thinks it's hilarious.
I was at Brent Town Hall all day. Chairing a group of judges to select works of art by school students for an auction. Five judges, 210 pieces to judge and we had to be finished by 3pm. I wanted to be there by 8.30am. I arrived at 9.50am. Bloody snow.
It was knackering. We each had to go round filling out forms to decide which ones went up for auction (the best) which ones went into an exhibition and which ones went back to the schools (the worst). Then we had to see which ones we could agree on. Then we had to go round as a group to try to make a decision on the 50 or so which we had different opinions about. Bonkers.
We finished at about 4.30pm. After boxing all the art up into the right order in the right categories and loading it into a cab it was 6pm. Remarkably, I made it home in time to grab a quick meal before director him picked me up for rehearsal.
Of course, just like yesterday, numerous people were not there. And of course the same ten from last night were there. Plus pregnant wizard, town crier and high priest. Some people rang with good excuses, some with poor ones and some didn't bother to call at all. Irritating.
It was a lot of fun though. Memos to self; talk quicker, stride don't shuffle; be more angry at the end. Oh and next time bring down my own script with all my notes in it rather than secretary's.
The ginger one burned off CDs for those who wanted them and he is now off to Arizona for a week. Someone is going to have fun standing in for him...
It all gets serious from now on. Need to learn those words. We all do. That, after all, is why we were there in the cold until gone midnight last night. I hope the rest of the cast appreciate it, bless 'em.
Two more things. Ysabell has a mind like a sewer. Then again I knew what she was thinking, so I must be on the same level. All of us are in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. And judging by the expression on her face a couple of times tonight... Well actually the point is that we are the stars... Obviously.
The other thing is that the snow is quite funny in some ways. Secretary had a text from a colleague this morning saying: "I won't be able to get into work today, there's snow outside my house." Then her boss said she couldn't get in because her electric gates at the end of her drive and frozen solid and wouldn't open. Fantastic.
Thought for the day: 'We're walking in a Winter Wonderland.' Winter Wonderland. By loads of people. Secretary has about a dozen different recordings. She likes her Christmas music.
Last night a few of us... well OK then... director him, director her, producer, the ginger one, Albert, Ysabell, Cutwell, previous producer, footnote and bursar... gathered at the hall to record the entire show so that the cast can use it to learn their lines. We reckon we can sell the recordings on front of house. Or maybe not.
Footnote and producer did come up with a good knock, knock joke though. 'Knock, knock.' 'Who's there?' 'Ysabell.' 'Ysabell who?' 'Is ya bell not working?' Well we reckoned it was very, very funny and don't care what you think.
It was bloody cold down there. It always is in the hall. This, however, was ridiculous. As I had expected, secretary didn't join us. She was and still is feeling pants. I mean as in 'not well'. I don't mean as in my underwear. Although she does do that too. For sorting out the laundry of course. Yes.
Anyway, it was, as I said, a trifle cold. The coldest night of the year so far to my reckoning. There was plenty of snow when I woke up this morning. Needless to say, it took 40 minutes for a cab to get to the house and 45 minutes to do the normal five minute journey to Langley station. Mad. I cannot believe the way the whole country stops with a small fall of snow. Our Swedish reporter at the paper thinks it's hilarious.
I was at Brent Town Hall all day. Chairing a group of judges to select works of art by school students for an auction. Five judges, 210 pieces to judge and we had to be finished by 3pm. I wanted to be there by 8.30am. I arrived at 9.50am. Bloody snow.
It was knackering. We each had to go round filling out forms to decide which ones went up for auction (the best) which ones went into an exhibition and which ones went back to the schools (the worst). Then we had to see which ones we could agree on. Then we had to go round as a group to try to make a decision on the 50 or so which we had different opinions about. Bonkers.
We finished at about 4.30pm. After boxing all the art up into the right order in the right categories and loading it into a cab it was 6pm. Remarkably, I made it home in time to grab a quick meal before director him picked me up for rehearsal.
Of course, just like yesterday, numerous people were not there. And of course the same ten from last night were there. Plus pregnant wizard, town crier and high priest. Some people rang with good excuses, some with poor ones and some didn't bother to call at all. Irritating.
It was a lot of fun though. Memos to self; talk quicker, stride don't shuffle; be more angry at the end. Oh and next time bring down my own script with all my notes in it rather than secretary's.
The ginger one burned off CDs for those who wanted them and he is now off to Arizona for a week. Someone is going to have fun standing in for him...
It all gets serious from now on. Need to learn those words. We all do. That, after all, is why we were there in the cold until gone midnight last night. I hope the rest of the cast appreciate it, bless 'em.
Two more things. Ysabell has a mind like a sewer. Then again I knew what she was thinking, so I must be on the same level. All of us are in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. And judging by the expression on her face a couple of times tonight... Well actually the point is that we are the stars... Obviously.
The other thing is that the snow is quite funny in some ways. Secretary had a text from a colleague this morning saying: "I won't be able to get into work today, there's snow outside my house." Then her boss said she couldn't get in because her electric gates at the end of her drive and frozen solid and wouldn't open. Fantastic.
Thought for the day: 'We're walking in a Winter Wonderland.' Winter Wonderland. By loads of people. Secretary has about a dozen different recordings. She likes her Christmas music.
Wednesday, February 7
Making hay while the snow falls
Went to see Hay Fever at the Theatre Royal last night. It may seem as though I am going a lot. Well that's because I am. But there have been four shows in a row that secretary and I have wanted to see so we decided to go. The posse this time was director him, setman, box office and high priest. We had two pull out on the day. As usual we went for a meal at pizza express beforehand. Well everyone except director him. We were sat up in the gods about three rows in front of where we were for The Unexpected Guest. Stephanie Beecham was magnificent.
When the show finished we looked at the pictures in the corridor. I noticed one of a previous production of Hay Fever and box office spotted one for An Inspector Calls, a show he has always wanted direct. I then said I would love to do 12 Angry Men. We went through the list of possible Cast members past and present who might be capable of doing it. We thought of 11. Then we remembered town crier. Set man said in that case we would have to change the title to 11 Angry Men And One Who's Slightly Miffed. That works for me.
Tonight we are reading through the script to give everyone a recording to practice their lines. A few people won't be there, but that doesn't matter. People can read in. Actually I'm not sure whether secretary is going to make it down as she is feeling pretty poorly.
Talking of people not being there, I have this horrible feeling that one or two people may not be here at work tomorrow. They are predicting the heaviest snow in years. Five to seven inches. I have to judge pictures for an art auction tomorrow. I need to be in Wembley by 8.45am. I can see that being a litlle bit of a problem.
Thought for the day: 'Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow...' Doris Day's Christmas Album. Which I bought for secretary this Christmas. She loves Doris.
When the show finished we looked at the pictures in the corridor. I noticed one of a previous production of Hay Fever and box office spotted one for An Inspector Calls, a show he has always wanted direct. I then said I would love to do 12 Angry Men. We went through the list of possible Cast members past and present who might be capable of doing it. We thought of 11. Then we remembered town crier. Set man said in that case we would have to change the title to 11 Angry Men And One Who's Slightly Miffed. That works for me.
Tonight we are reading through the script to give everyone a recording to practice their lines. A few people won't be there, but that doesn't matter. People can read in. Actually I'm not sure whether secretary is going to make it down as she is feeling pretty poorly.
Talking of people not being there, I have this horrible feeling that one or two people may not be here at work tomorrow. They are predicting the heaviest snow in years. Five to seven inches. I have to judge pictures for an art auction tomorrow. I need to be in Wembley by 8.45am. I can see that being a litlle bit of a problem.
Thought for the day: 'Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow...' Doris Day's Christmas Album. Which I bought for secretary this Christmas. She loves Doris.
Tuesday, February 6
Recorded at last
Another rehearsal missed tonight. Pain in the bum. Not that I was the only one. Keli couldn't make it and previous producer is ill. She's probably worn herself into the ground after the efforts of Friday and Saturday night. At least we have an extra session on Wednesday to read through the whole show and record it onto disk for everyone to learn their lines. Then it's a complete run through on Thursday, before the ginger one heads off to the USA - Arizona to be precise - for a week.
Sunday was another one of those days which vanished into Cast activities. We put on a one night charity concert this time last year; the full details of the whys and wherefores I shall not cover now. In among all the songs that were performed we had a series of speeches which I had written to link the whole thing together. Trouble was, when we came to putting the DVD together there were four of the seven speeches missing because they had been used as the points to change the video.
Now a week is a long time in politics, they say. Well a year is a ridiculous length of time for a bunch of luvvies to wait to get their hands on copies of the DVD. But could the ginger one, scud, previous chairperson (they're married - remember that one too) and producer manage to be in the same place at the same time, complete with evening dress and copies of the speeches, for previous director to record? Could we hell. I have to say that on one occasion last August, secretary and producer were coming back from holiday and completely forgot about it. So I take the blame there. But with the anniversary fast approaching we decided we should put on a special showing and dish out the complete DVDs then. What is it about deadlines?
For me this involves designing and producing labels for the DVDs, an outer cover and an inner booklet, the first two of which I completed on Sunday (either side of a fabulous roast lunch prepared by secretary) and then we went round to scud and previous chairperson's pad (that's right, well remembered) to do the recordings. Needless to say, for producer and previous director this involved a couple of takes. For scud... well I'm not sure, but it was nearer to ten than two. A man in search of perfection....
Previous director now has all he needs to put the finished article together, while producer works on the inner booklet. It should be a nice little package - a fitting tribute to the occasion. Like I said though, that is one for another occasion.
Most important thing today though was an email from domefur to confirm our booking to go to Berlin. Looks like it will only be domefur, virtual dildo, scud and producer. No previous director or Albert which leaves a big hole, but then scud and domefur couldn't make it at the last minute a year ago. It will be great. Our first event in Germany. Oh the things that Cast brought us together to do.
Thought for the day: 'Darf ich Destroya vorstellen.' I could have written other things, but babelfish is a dangerous website to start playing around with at this time of night. Albert will vouch for that. And domefur. It nearly destroyed their lives...
Sunday was another one of those days which vanished into Cast activities. We put on a one night charity concert this time last year; the full details of the whys and wherefores I shall not cover now. In among all the songs that were performed we had a series of speeches which I had written to link the whole thing together. Trouble was, when we came to putting the DVD together there were four of the seven speeches missing because they had been used as the points to change the video.
Now a week is a long time in politics, they say. Well a year is a ridiculous length of time for a bunch of luvvies to wait to get their hands on copies of the DVD. But could the ginger one, scud, previous chairperson (they're married - remember that one too) and producer manage to be in the same place at the same time, complete with evening dress and copies of the speeches, for previous director to record? Could we hell. I have to say that on one occasion last August, secretary and producer were coming back from holiday and completely forgot about it. So I take the blame there. But with the anniversary fast approaching we decided we should put on a special showing and dish out the complete DVDs then. What is it about deadlines?
For me this involves designing and producing labels for the DVDs, an outer cover and an inner booklet, the first two of which I completed on Sunday (either side of a fabulous roast lunch prepared by secretary) and then we went round to scud and previous chairperson's pad (that's right, well remembered) to do the recordings. Needless to say, for producer and previous director this involved a couple of takes. For scud... well I'm not sure, but it was nearer to ten than two. A man in search of perfection....
Previous director now has all he needs to put the finished article together, while producer works on the inner booklet. It should be a nice little package - a fitting tribute to the occasion. Like I said though, that is one for another occasion.
Most important thing today though was an email from domefur to confirm our booking to go to Berlin. Looks like it will only be domefur, virtual dildo, scud and producer. No previous director or Albert which leaves a big hole, but then scud and domefur couldn't make it at the last minute a year ago. It will be great. Our first event in Germany. Oh the things that Cast brought us together to do.
Thought for the day: 'Darf ich Destroya vorstellen.' I could have written other things, but babelfish is a dangerous website to start playing around with at this time of night. Albert will vouch for that. And domefur. It nearly destroyed their lives...
Saturday, February 3
Clearing out the Tardis
Last night previous producer, previous director, set man, box office and secretary spent six hours taking everything out of the Tardis. These pictures show what it looked like. Today previous producer, previous director, set man, director him, high priest, saturday landlord and producer spent nine hours sorting through it all, chucking out as much as possible, and putting it back into the Tardis in a more orderly fashion. It was all very neccessary in order for us to be able to do the show in comfort and know what exactly is where.
All this has nothing to do with Billie Piper. It wasn't one of the things I included in my letter to try to win her over. I am in this case referring to Time And Relative Diminsions In Shite. Otherwise known as the Colnbrook Village Hall loft.
It's been full of junk for as long as I can remember and the bulk of it belongs to the Colnbrook Residents Association and the village hall trust. The loft is actually the gallery where the lights are controlled from for each show. In an ideal world the person calling the show is also up there.
For the last three years or so our ever expanding collection of costumes has lived up there and outgrown the space available.
Previous producer has been photographing and logging the costumes and chucking out the junk. There have been two or three occassions when we have taken all of them down from the loft and she and her team have sorted vast numbers of them out. Set man and producer spent on session after our own clear out of 'the shed' (more on that another time) going through the hats, logging and photographing them. Yes, we have quite a lot of hats. We have quite a lot of everything actually.
All this has nothing to do with Billie Piper. It wasn't one of the things I included in my letter to try to win her over. I am in this case referring to Time And Relative Diminsions In Shite. Otherwise known as the Colnbrook Village Hall loft.
It's been full of junk for as long as I can remember and the bulk of it belongs to the Colnbrook Residents Association and the village hall trust. The loft is actually the gallery where the lights are controlled from for each show. In an ideal world the person calling the show is also up there.
For the last three years or so our ever expanding collection of costumes has lived up there and outgrown the space available.
Previous producer has been photographing and logging the costumes and chucking out the junk. There have been two or three occassions when we have taken all of them down from the loft and she and her team have sorted vast numbers of them out. Set man and producer spent on session after our own clear out of 'the shed' (more on that another time) going through the hats, logging and photographing them. Yes, we have quite a lot of hats. We have quite a lot of everything actually.
Set man and saturday landlord are spending quite a lot of time at the back of the hall during rehearsals taking photographs of items, while previous producer enters them on a massive database. I have called it a database rather than a spreadsheet, because, although previous producer is famous for her spreadsheets, the word really doesn't do the whole thing justice.
To give an idea of what we were doing today, let's give some statistics. Director him made two trips to the dump with a car crammed full of stuff we had thrown out. Secretary just about managed to fit in her car all the stuff for the Age Concern shop - there wasn't any room for a passenger to fit in to help unload it. We have 23 full giant plastic crates (with lids) full of costumes. We have more than a dozen huge suitcase shaped plastic zipper bags with more costumes, material, shoes and boots. And then there is all the remaining stuff belonging to CVH and CRA which we wrapped and stacked in open crates and boxes. And then there is all the other stuff. From clothes rails to tribal spears (not the britney spear - I'm not sure where that's gone...) from a plastic cash register to a pair of lanterns. But it all went back in a tidy state and the floor of the loft can still be seen - and there is almost room to swing a cat. How it all fitted back in, I'm still unsure. Maybe it really is a proper Tardis. Damn! In that case I should have put it in my letter to Billie after all. Talking of which, at the rehearsal on Thursday, when we completed Act Two, the ginger one said he had a good feeling about the whole honorary president exercise. Keep praying to the picture everyone.
Thought for the day: 'There is no escape. Return the Tardis immediately to our home planet... You have broken our laws. You must face your trial.' The Time Lords summon the second Doctor back to Gallifrey in The War Games, his final story.
If you thought Billie leaving in Doomsday was a bit dramatic, then you should try this one. Patrick Troughton ended his tenure as The Doctor. His two assistants, Jamie and Zoe had all memories of their time with The Doctor wiped and were each returned to the places they came from. The Time Lords sent The Doctor to Earth and removed the ability of the Tardis to travel.
So in the next series, the first episodes of the 1970s, The Doctor was played by Jon Pertwee. He had a new assistant - Liz Shaw. He worked alongside UNIT (The United Nations Intelligence Taskforce) with its leader Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. He was stranded on Earth, for the bulk the next three years (in order to save the BBC money). And it was shot in colour for the first time (which was why they needed to save money).
A pretty dramatic change. Jon Pertwee I loved as The Doctor. In many ways he is still the one I like the best. I hated Liz Shaw. She had replaced Zoe. I had a really big six and seven-year-old's crush on Wendy Padbury. I was really upset when she went. But Liz Shaw only lasted one series and then she was replaced by Jo Grant. I had an even bigger nine, ten and 11-year-old's crush on Katy Manning. Funnily enough when she was replaced by Sarah-Jane Smith I didn't like her much, until Jon Pertwee left and Tom Baker came along and she seemed OK then. I never fancied her though. But I was upset when she left.
My God Billie's replacement has got her work cut out winning over a lot of children's hearts over the coming episodes...
To give an idea of what we were doing today, let's give some statistics. Director him made two trips to the dump with a car crammed full of stuff we had thrown out. Secretary just about managed to fit in her car all the stuff for the Age Concern shop - there wasn't any room for a passenger to fit in to help unload it. We have 23 full giant plastic crates (with lids) full of costumes. We have more than a dozen huge suitcase shaped plastic zipper bags with more costumes, material, shoes and boots. And then there is all the remaining stuff belonging to CVH and CRA which we wrapped and stacked in open crates and boxes. And then there is all the other stuff. From clothes rails to tribal spears (not the britney spear - I'm not sure where that's gone...) from a plastic cash register to a pair of lanterns. But it all went back in a tidy state and the floor of the loft can still be seen - and there is almost room to swing a cat. How it all fitted back in, I'm still unsure. Maybe it really is a proper Tardis. Damn! In that case I should have put it in my letter to Billie after all. Talking of which, at the rehearsal on Thursday, when we completed Act Two, the ginger one said he had a good feeling about the whole honorary president exercise. Keep praying to the picture everyone.
Thought for the day: 'There is no escape. Return the Tardis immediately to our home planet... You have broken our laws. You must face your trial.' The Time Lords summon the second Doctor back to Gallifrey in The War Games, his final story.
If you thought Billie leaving in Doomsday was a bit dramatic, then you should try this one. Patrick Troughton ended his tenure as The Doctor. His two assistants, Jamie and Zoe had all memories of their time with The Doctor wiped and were each returned to the places they came from. The Time Lords sent The Doctor to Earth and removed the ability of the Tardis to travel.
So in the next series, the first episodes of the 1970s, The Doctor was played by Jon Pertwee. He had a new assistant - Liz Shaw. He worked alongside UNIT (The United Nations Intelligence Taskforce) with its leader Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. He was stranded on Earth, for the bulk the next three years (in order to save the BBC money). And it was shot in colour for the first time (which was why they needed to save money).
A pretty dramatic change. Jon Pertwee I loved as The Doctor. In many ways he is still the one I like the best. I hated Liz Shaw. She had replaced Zoe. I had a really big six and seven-year-old's crush on Wendy Padbury. I was really upset when she went. But Liz Shaw only lasted one series and then she was replaced by Jo Grant. I had an even bigger nine, ten and 11-year-old's crush on Katy Manning. Funnily enough when she was replaced by Sarah-Jane Smith I didn't like her much, until Jon Pertwee left and Tom Baker came along and she seemed OK then. I never fancied her though. But I was upset when she left.
My God Billie's replacement has got her work cut out winning over a lot of children's hearts over the coming episodes...
Friday, February 2
National coverage
We've always been pretty good at publicity, but box office has taken things to a new level... last night (that's Wednesday for those of you who are pedantic) he was on the Geoff show on Virgin radio. Talking about Cast. Not about Mort, truth be known, but still talking about us.
He rang up in response to the question: 'Have you ever had anything strange happen to you while you have been dressed up as an animal.' Well how many stories from the annals of Cast did they want? But he picked the best.
Those of you who have read allaboutdick.blogspot.com will know that we made a tour of London organised by yours truly (called programme producer on that blog) to take promo pics for the press and to use on other publicity and in the programme. You may know this story from that blog.
But if not...
Among the places we visited were the house where Dick Whittington lived, and the church he founded next door, where he is buried. There are plaques on both of them and Keli, who played Dick, and previous producer, who was dressed in a huge cat costume, had their pics taken with each of them. We then took a line-up shot by the plaque on the side of the church before walking down the tiny street to the front of the church.... where a tour guide was telling a group of tourists all about Dick Wittington.
"This is the church where Dick Whittington, four times Lord Mayor of London is buried..." We came round the corner just as he turned round towards us and taking things beautifully in his stride he carried on his chat. "...and here he comes, accompanied by his cat. And now if you will follow me this way..."
The tourists snapped away with their cameras before scurrying off after him. He will be dining out on that one for years. We walked into Whittington Gardens opposite laughing our heads off and got on with taking our own photos.
So the late night listeners to Virgin Radio now all know the tale - and maybe that tour guide was listening himself.
Thought for the day: 'All we here is radio ga-ga, radio go-go, radio blah-blah.' Radio Gaga. Roger Taylor. The Works. Queen.
He rang up in response to the question: 'Have you ever had anything strange happen to you while you have been dressed up as an animal.' Well how many stories from the annals of Cast did they want? But he picked the best.
Those of you who have read allaboutdick.blogspot.com will know that we made a tour of London organised by yours truly (called programme producer on that blog) to take promo pics for the press and to use on other publicity and in the programme. You may know this story from that blog.
But if not...
Among the places we visited were the house where Dick Whittington lived, and the church he founded next door, where he is buried. There are plaques on both of them and Keli, who played Dick, and previous producer, who was dressed in a huge cat costume, had their pics taken with each of them. We then took a line-up shot by the plaque on the side of the church before walking down the tiny street to the front of the church.... where a tour guide was telling a group of tourists all about Dick Wittington.
"This is the church where Dick Whittington, four times Lord Mayor of London is buried..." We came round the corner just as he turned round towards us and taking things beautifully in his stride he carried on his chat. "...and here he comes, accompanied by his cat. And now if you will follow me this way..."
The tourists snapped away with their cameras before scurrying off after him. He will be dining out on that one for years. We walked into Whittington Gardens opposite laughing our heads off and got on with taking our own photos.
So the late night listeners to Virgin Radio now all know the tale - and maybe that tour guide was listening himself.
Thought for the day: 'All we here is radio ga-ga, radio go-go, radio blah-blah.' Radio Gaga. Roger Taylor. The Works. Queen.
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