After all that, the episode of the Australian yakking-about-sport show Between The Lines (featuring me) wasn’t even on last night. They put a different episode on. Normally this means that one of the panellists has died since it was recorded and it’s no longer appropriate. But we only did it on Monday and, well, I’m definitely still alive for starters. Maybe mine was such a great episode that they realised it would overshadow all the succeeding ones, so they’ve pushed it back to be the series finale. Yes. That must be it.
As happens fairly often, I am writing this blog in an airport lounge. My next act will be to board a plane and sit on it for quite a long time, only leaving it to walk dazedly around Singapore Airport for around 45 minutes. In case you’re interested, I will spend the journey working on the script for a new version of a Child’s Christmases In Wales, but not set at Christmas, which is hopefully going to happen. (If you don’t remember this, it was a one-off yuletide drama I wrote for BBC4.) The script has been commissioned, but it doesn’t mean the show will be. However, it is better than being whacked in the nose.
New novel is looking quite finished, in a pre-editing form, and I might do a sneak preview of it at one of the book events I mentioned.
Oh also, this improvisation show I’m doing next week. They have now released some extra tickets because we’ve moved up to a bigger studio. It’s in London. Should be quite good. You can get them here.
And that’s me boarding. See you soon.