Night radio
Woke up at 3 o'clock with blasted radio adverts on my mind. Had to go downstairs, sip chamomile tea, and write it all down for an hour. Beth, and her pals Milly and Ainsley stole in quiet as cat burglars and spoke in hushed ways with their mobiles bleeping with post club messages while I worked. To bed, and nightly noises of catfights, Calliope scratching on the laundry basket and stealing Lorraine's water, next door's children crying and so on meant that I barely slept till it was 6:25am and time to drag my sorry self from bed.
A smooth journey to work, and miraculously after two cups of coffee, with the middle of the night work, I was able to fulfil their insane request and swiftly wrote four good quality radio scripts in an hour. More importantly, I used The New Idea thinking to good effect. After this, and a short but frenzied burst of work in the afternoon, I was released back into the wild, my stint over. It had been very challenging, but some of the people there were nice. As I wandered dazedly from the building, however, a palpable evaporation of tension.
Off to The Salisbury in the West End to meet Mike Court, (aka much earlier in this blog when I was neurotically concealing people's names, as The Gnome) my former art director. Cheery to talk with him, about freelancing and of life in general. He is a very decent man.
Snoozing on the train home from London, and wandering rather disgracefully into Ace pizza as I'd not eaten. Home and Lorraine still up and Beth and Laura upstairs. So good to be home.
A smooth journey to work, and miraculously after two cups of coffee, with the middle of the night work, I was able to fulfil their insane request and swiftly wrote four good quality radio scripts in an hour. More importantly, I used The New Idea thinking to good effect. After this, and a short but frenzied burst of work in the afternoon, I was released back into the wild, my stint over. It had been very challenging, but some of the people there were nice. As I wandered dazedly from the building, however, a palpable evaporation of tension.
Off to The Salisbury in the West End to meet Mike Court, (aka much earlier in this blog when I was neurotically concealing people's names, as The Gnome) my former art director. Cheery to talk with him, about freelancing and of life in general. He is a very decent man.
Snoozing on the train home from London, and wandering rather disgracefully into Ace pizza as I'd not eaten. Home and Lorraine still up and Beth and Laura upstairs. So good to be home.
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