Having work done on Connelly Mansions at the moment, which means that everything but everything is covered in a thick film of dust. It’s everywhere. I can even feel it on the keys as I write this. Amazing isn’t it, you get the builders in to knock down a wall and put in a new kitchen, and wouldn’t you know it, they discover that the entire flat roof and attendant ceiling needs replacing. Now, I’m the biggest sucker going, I’ll believe anything anyone tells me, but even I could see the joists were wet through, and the arrangement of saucepans to catch the drips as the snow melted the other week had given me a hefty clue. Ho hum.
Apart from that it’s been a quiet few days. Well, quiet apart from the noise of walls and ceilngs coming down and kitchens being ripped out, that is. I reviewed the papers on the BBC London sports show on Sunday, which enabled me to get in a few sly – actually, no, I mean blatant – digs at Chelsea and Spurs and was actually a whole big bunch of fun to do.
Off to the Oldie Of The Year awards this lunchtime, which is always a good booze-up, er, I mean occasion. Then tonight it’s a reunion of the intrepid crew that went off filming in Kansas and Oklahoma last year – we came second in some film awards ceremony or other in Berlin last week, so it’s hats in the air, let’s have a curry.
So a day of wassailing awaits. If you’re anywhere near the Oldie of the Year, I’ll be the one covered from head to foot in dust looking like an extra from Rentaghost.