Tuesday, April 12, 2005

The last book I bought, I was reminded as it dropped with a thump through the letterbox, was actually Yukio Mishima's Temple of the Golden Pavilion. I won't be reading it until I get to Ireland in July where, I've been informed, there'll be nothing to do but read. Or drink.

Scarborough trip was, in the end, cancelled. Had meeting re the play, which went well and filled me with optimism. Then, while I nipped to the pub with an actor, M had a meeting about her play, which ran a bit late. We could have made it if we'd dashed around like crazy fools but once we hit Maccy D's to grab some fattening stuff and then called for petrol we found ourselves driving so close to our house that we both thought, 'why not?'. So, hurrah, we didn't have to travel the long and winding road. Until tomorrow night, that is. I was told today that the commissioning editor who sends me on these long, exciting journeys into various parts of Yorkshire is making the move into PR (point crucifixes at those evil sorts). That's three commissioning editors in 10 years, none of whom I've ever met. The last two had identical voices, which I always found to be very disturbing and led me to believe that someone, somewhere was trying to drive me insane.

Good news for Pete today. Let's hope it doesn't give him the excuse to slip back into his evil ways. I, for one, am looking forward to Babyshambles first album. A woman I work with was looking at some pics of Pete in a magazine yesterday and simply said: "Disgusting. He disgusts me," before shutting the cover on the lad.

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