I know I haven't been the most active blogger around lately, but I've been busy contemplating my navel, so just get over it.

Another attack on London yesterday, two weeks after the previous one, people not quite sure what to make of it. Go about our day as per usual, I suppose. In my case, that would mean not doing much. We still haven't rid our flat of several cardboard boxes from The Infamous Move, but we're getting there, I hope.

This means, of course, that I watch a lot of telly. Not during the day, mind you (apart from Peak Practice, but that's just common sense, since I've already seen the series twice before (and by that I mean the years when Simon Shepherd was in it, after that it became really dull)), and yesterday the long awaited new Gervais/Merchant series, The Extras began on BBC2. I could finally see the premiere live. Nice. Also a new series with Stephen Fry in it - always a must-see, his work. Unfortunately, both Airport and War at the Door ended yesterday, two programmes we've been addicted to ever since we moved here (Airport, of course, we also watched at home). And on Wednesday the dreaded series Journey to the End of the World or whatever it was called ended at last. That's four and a half hours of my life I won't get back. I've never seen a whole (mini-)series before where I haven't found any of the characters to be sympathetic. Pathetic, definitely, especially the protagonist, but I felt sympathy for just one of the other characters, and only on a few occasions. The rest of the time he was as nasty as the rest. In other words, not everything the Beeb spews out is top quality. Tut, tut.

This week I have been getting up early every day in order to be dressed for whenever the postman would ring our door. I ordered a few things last week and they were due for delivery this week. When the delivery man finally rang our door, on Wednesday, the fucking doorbell wouldn't work. I could see him, I could open the door, but he couldn't hear anything than a high-pitched whirr and never tried pushing the door open. By the time I arrived downstairs (bear in mind we live on the tenth floor with one very slow lift), he was long gone. Yesterday I gave up on them at around six o'clock (they'd sent me an e-mail telling me they would attempt redelivery between nine and five) and went to the loo. Guess what happened the second I sat down. Thank Bob for quick flatmates, though; she lept to the challenge and managed to get hold of the guy as he was trying to phone me (I had brought my mobile with me to the loo every time since Monday, but not this time). My new DVD-writer and camera tripod were safe. Phew.

Monday afternoon we went to Leicester Square to witness the UK premiere of The Fantastic Four. My flatmate is a fan of Ioan Gruffudd's and I tagged along to get a glimpse of him also (couldn't care less about the rest, to be honest - I haven't quite made up my mind about Michael Chiklis yet and the others I don't know at all). We got there two hours before anything interesting started to happen. By the time anything did happen, I had been bored for so long I had started eyeing one of the staff members instead, and at the exact moment the show started, I am not joking, it started raining. We were still trying to dry up from the last fall of rain, but this one just wouldn't stop. I hadn't brought my brolly because I knew we would be squashed together and wouldn't want to stick my umbrella in anybody's face or be the reason for their not seeing anything. I should have rethought that, because everyone else had brought an umbrella and didn't care less about the people around them. One of them used me as a combined umbrella stand and water drain (I certainly looked and felt like one) and another lady, shorter than me, kept poking me in the back of my head. When I turned around and asked her if she would stop poking me, she just glared at me and looked away. That was when I had had enough and left the scene. Too bad Ioan was just about to turn up. I went and stood under the awning of a kebab restaurant and kept myself busy looking for that staff member again, all the time keeping an eye on the big screen to see where the celebs were. When I realised Ioan had reached our end of the crowd, I skipped back and caught a glimpse of him, as well as my rather excited flatmate, frantically trying to take a photo of him. I have included the best one below for your viewing pleasure. We had actually agreed on dining out after the show, but at this point we were both soaking wet and decided to go back home instead. I stopped by Sainsbury's to buy some echinacea tablets, just in case, and then we went home and watched Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, which was much funnier the second time around (and with someone else in the room who actually understood the funny bits and was as embarrassed as I was).



Current track: Gloria Gaynor - I am What I am

Labels: current affairs, film, name-dropping, online shopping, personal, simon shepherd, TV