Egg On My Face and Leg Waving

It's been quite a week since I returned from Italy. Lots of meetings, parties, lunches, drinks etc. Certainly there's been little time for getting anything productive done – although I suppose that everything I do is productive in one way or another. Everything has a purpose. However, I'm not so sure that the dreadful faux pas I committed last night will have served much purpose. I was attending the launch party of my good friend Maria Allen's new novel (see here) and was chatting away to someone about my less than favourable view of a particular publishing house when I realized that I was standing next to the Managing Director of said publishers, and he'd heard every word! He didn't look too pleased, so I made a swift exit and wandered over to another friend of mine – a novelist too – who was talking to some chap I didn't know. I began regaling him with the story of my faux pas, but not really in a very apologetic manner, when my friend introduced me to his companion – it turned out that he was a director of the same publishing company! Oops – how to ruin one's chances of publication in just five short minutes! Oh dear, you can't take me anywhere really, can you?

The other evening I went to see Tom Ford's new film 'A Single Man'. I sat through it thinking: 'This is awful' although in retrospect, I suppose there are some good qualities to it. It was very well-acted (particularly Colin Firth who did a tremendous job at conveying bereavement in a very sympathetic way), and it seemed reasonably well directed too (it is Tom Ford's first foray into film, so I suppose he should be congratulated). It was also absolutely gorgeous to look at – a very creditable portrayal of 1960s California; deliciously sumptuous and very authentic. But the reason why I had been sitting there thinking that it was quite awful, was nothing to do with the film really – it was because I finally woke up to just what a bad writer Isherwood was. I'd read most of his stuff years ago and I'd enjoyed it at the time, but that was probably because I was young, impressionable and the seduction of the glamour and the clandestine sexuality in his writing was hard to resist. Now I'm all grown up, I see it as nothing more than self-indulgent and maudlin sentimentality. However, I would still recommend the film because it's so lovely to look at. Go see it.

The Triliteral Festival is coming along nicely, although it is still taking up quite a bit of time on the administration front. We are getting very excited because we now have only eight days to go before the submissions close, and already we've had lots of very interesting scripts. Hopefully we'll receive even more in the final week, and we're really looking forward to that. We still haven't finalised all of the venues yet, and we also have a bit of a problem with rehearsal space, but these are just challenges that we're happy to meet. Our biggest challenge is, of course, funding – so the begging letters will be going out next week! Watch out, all of you with money. Anyway, there'll be more news on all of this in forthcoming weeks, so keep reading.

Now, what shall I do with the rest of the day? I have to say that I'm strongly tempted to do nothing but wave my legs in the air, but unfortunately the length of the 'to do' list precludes such an indolent activity. I am now faced with the usual dilemma: Which of the many tasks on the list should be tackled first? Oh, hold on.... my legs seem to have begun an involuntary shake... and yes, they're raising themselves into the air... and... and I just can't stop them. Doh!