Catching up with James P!

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Lifesnaps # 9 - Fog on the Euston Tower

"I said I'd show you the heavens Jimmy, the heavens that fly so high.
The clouds that ride the sky Jimmy, the clouds that occasionally cry."

The wanderer returns!

From this photo you can gather two things. Firstly, Ady's back - as of yesterday morning, 5am at Heathrow! I'm still knackered from the early start! Cold as it was, it was worth it to see him for the first time in 6 months - how time has flown.

Secondly, Edwin's on the road to recovery after his appendicitis last week. Excellent!

And ther'e a photo of Mum below - unexpectedly caught on camera by Grandad. Dad was at home cooking the dinner at the time!















Just started at VEE-TV, enjoying the first day and hoping to keep on enjoying it for the next 3 weeks before we break for Christmas. Should be working on the production of the actual show from January until May. Wicked.

Edwin's Operation -

In the space of 24 hours, my brother Edwin went through some serious pain, some confusion, then the 6th operation of his 19 years. Happily, he appears to be on the mend now, and has been allowed home, but it was a frantic night and day for my folks. I managed to get up to Nottingham on the day, and record his stay through a few snaps which he's allowed me to put on here. So thanks to Edwin for that!




























Eddie had woken up in a lot of pain on Tuesday night. After a couple of hours, Mum and Dad took him to hospital, before the stomach pain got even worse through the day. By the time I arrived in Nottingham, at 2pm, he was already in the operating theatre with suspected appendicitis, and Mum and Dad were exhausted from a night of very little sleep.

He came out at around 4, but knackered from the pain and the anaesthetic, it was 5 o'clock before Edwin woke. I stayed with him for a few hours while Mum and Dad went home, and at around 7pm, he started talking to me about the Forest results, which is when I thought he must be on the mend!





























When I told him he'd had his appendix removed, he asked me "but where did it come from?!" "We've all got one," I replied, "but the good thing is, when it's out, you physically can't get appendicitis again. So that's one bonus!"

Ady phoned from Australia the next morning, worried about Edwin and, I think, glad that he's coming back this weekend. Ed will be more than pleased to see Ady again, not least because he'll need to rest at home a lot for the next two weeks! So come on Ady, but enjoy Hong Kong first!














The funny thing about going to the Queen's Medical Centre was that when Eddie was born, he spent a lot of time there because he had a hole in his heart, so it was funny to be back in the hospital again. On the spiral walkway, Mum even asked me "have you walked here before?" to which I replied "yes, when I was four." She seemed disappointed, I think she wanted to catch me out!














By Thursday morning, he was far better, and allowed home yesterday evening, so it was a dash back to work for me - this photo below is the view from St Pancras coming into London. Last day at work today, it's been a long time, 7 months, back on VEE-TV Monday, looking forward to a fresh start. Before that, there's drinks to come tonight, and Ady's mercurial return at the weekend, which will surely be blogged!














Here's hoping Edwin's recovery continues to go well - and that you all have a good weekend.

Lifesnaps # 8 - Foggy London

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Gangsters!

"I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse... and if you do refuse, my little pal here's gonna sort you out, Pedro..."

The Scribbler's place of work!

I've been working at Betty, a television production company in Bloomsbury, for the past 6 months, and this is my penultimate week!

I've shied away from ever mentioning work on this blog - for several reasons.

The first being that it'd be highly unprofessional to blog your working week, workmates, experiences, particularly when you're working in such a competitive industry where information means power. Sensible stuff. Not like me.

The second - and most important - reason is that work after all, is work, however much fun you're having! The Scribbler exists outside work, in life's random scribbles, rants and tales - and for those reasons, I hope you've been enjoying it.

But work still exists. It's part of my life. So here it is.















After 6 months, the company has expanded faster and quicker than most people could have imagined. (all down to me, y'know... not.)

To be honest, the wooden floors have led to acoustic issues which haven't been easy on my electronic ears, but the stomping ground looks great on camera at least! The office is always full of chatter, banter, and all-round chaos. That's just TV, I guess - and the parties are great. Full of Champagne and usually followed by a hangover. Hope the rest of the industry is the same!















(Sorry for this posed shot - I was trying to look not only professional, but also attractive enough to get a few women sending in their emails. Not holding my breath. )

When I started at Betty, I'd only done 2 months in TV, with VEE-TV, and in terms of experience, I was a bit of a novice.

It's not as though I've become a world-wise media mogul in this time, but certainly over the past 2 months, I've felt like Ithings have come together.

But the changes of the past 6 months have been most pronounced outside work. I've lately had my first paid writing commision, I've really benefited from the screenwriting course I've done one night a week (and have developed three treatments already - but no scripts yet!) - and I've taken up going to the gym 2-3 times a week.

Hell, I've even learned that I can grow a beard.

Isn't life amazing..!

Have a wicked weekend, full of chaos, madness and dare I say it, a scribble or two...

Random Scribble # 20

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Glimpsed from the train - the new Wembley.

The new Wembley may cost way too much - a rumoured £800 million - it might not be ready for next year's FA Cup final, and it's being built by the Aussies (!). But I caught sight of it last week, and earliest indications are, it's going to be a bit of a classic.














The arch that rises from the hallowed ground is visible all across London - and it seems that after demolishing the legendary twin towers, London will once again have a footballing landmark that will be recognised across the world.














One slight problem is that because of budget overruns and general costs built up through incompetence and problems that bug any project of this size, a heck of a lot of the tickets are corporate, meant for rich businessmen and company bods. 10 year seats cost about £15,000 or around £150 a game!

Nightmare. But hopefully, sometime, I'll get to go and check it out...

New Adventures in Beard Growth

This is my look on Monday. Excuse my bloated and blotched skin - I'd just woken up. Notice that excessive hair growth on my face? Let me explain the coming-of-age quest that has been the last week in my life.

Being 24 and all that, you would have thought that at some point over the past 6-7 years, I might have grown a big, bushy beard. For the sake of it, maybe. Or as a fashion choice.

It's true to say that for a month or two at university, I had a poorly-sculpted run of wispy stubble running along my jawline and forming a mishaped moustache. Happily, I discarded this look almost as soon as I realised that it acted as a repellent to the fine ladies of Nottingham.

Anyway, tiring of the repetitive nature of shaving (and the nightmare ingrown hairs that curly-haried men such as myself occasionally attract) I decided to cut out the daily routine. Indefinitely.

Starting Monday last week, I didn't shave. At all. I just used a facial scrub to stop it getting too complicated. Occasionally.
By Wednesday I had designer stubble.

Looing in the mirror Thursday, I noticed some of the hair was protruding, and had gone blonde.

On Saturday, the beard had progressed to covered almost all sign of skin.

By Sunday it was a little itchy.

Monday, it was very itchy.
















On Tuesday, a girl at work asked me if I was aiming for "the Rory McGrath (above) look."

On Tuesday evening, I purchased a set of hair clippers.

Wednesday morning, I had trimmed designer stubble, and women found me slightly attractive again.

As someone who normally goes for the freshly shaven look, the revelations of the last week have given me a whole new perspective on facial hair. I now know that within 2 weeks, I can have a Captain Haddock-style (below) bushy beard, free of charge, simply by not shaving at all.

























Right now, i'm really enjoying the neater, rough look. But who knows where the adventures of hair growth could lead me? I'm not making any commitments over the next few weeks, clearing space in the diary for new adventures.

I'm thinking goatee. Or handlebar moustache. Or perhaps the Robinson Crusoe look.
The world is my oyster.

Wanton Rollerbladers : The Sequel!

So I came out of the gym tonight - and guess who I saw - the waton rollerbladers again!

As as soon as I saw them...















They were gone.

And on a weeknight? Mad stuff.

Lifesnaps # 7

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My Streetfightin' Cous...

This deceptively innocent looking chap is my cousin Josh.

Ever since an early age he's been able to mix it up with the best (or worst) of them - routinely wrestling even senior members of the family to the ground. Without any warning whatsoever.

Now everyone in the family's desperately trying to get on his good side, since he's just beaten 60 kids to a grading award - and happens to be 3 grades short of being a black belt.

He can jump up and down on one foot, doing 50 kicks at a time. He can punch. He's got incredible stamina.

I'm wondering whether I'm truly related to him. Hope so.

You're looking at a future Olympic Gold medalist, me thinks.

Debbie eats slab (whole)!

This might not look entirely clear - you can probably just about see a couple of hands and a bike in the background - but this is (or can be interpreted as) my mate Debs eating pavement in Leicester Square a week ago. We were there witnessing another great movie at the London Film Festival - although her concrete-munching exploits prior to the movie surpassed all cinematic expectations.

There's a few random ideas I could come up with for explaining what she might have been doing - imprinting her palms along the movie stars, tying a shoelace, etc. But she wasn't. Neither was she exactly falling. Not that this wasn't a hugely embarassing event for the poor girl.

No, she had decided that rather than walk serenely around the barrier to which the bicycles were chained, that it would be far better to climb under it. Alas, the sheer number of metalic transport-modules chained to the barrier coupled with the low-lying level of the barrier itself meant that this was a far tougher quest than Debbie could have imagained.

On hands and knees (and probably wondering what she's done to deserve this) she found it a struggle even to inch forward, let alone keep her handbag and coat in order (and away from the brutal concrete) as she tried to rise. Cruelly I, rather than offering the poor girl a hand, had ample opportunity to see the comedy of the moment and took a photo instead.

Then uploaded it onto my blog...

That's what real friends (and modern mobile phones) are for. Sorry Debs.

* previously featured in the Scribbler for 'meeting' the great Paul Daniels and Debbie McGee

Wanton Rollerbladers

You've gotta watch out for the renegade boys on rollers - you just never know when they might appear.














It was a relatively quiet (well, as quiet as Covent Garden gets) Sunday a few weeks ago when all of a sudden, there were whistles, car horns beeping and the sound of a few rollerblades rolling across the tarmac.














It wasn't exactly renegade, it was, erm, organised. Pretty well in fact. Guys in flourescent green tops stopped the traffic in its tracks, infuriating cockney taxi drivers, but lending joy to the rollers as they gaily sped through London's streets.















Being an avid gym-goer these days, I normally come out of the place with a bit of a light-headed rush considering that I normally put in at least an hour of calf-burning, heart-straining cardiovascular work. On this particular Sunday, I imagined I might be hallucinating, meandering down the street. I wasn't.

Traffic really does stop in London. Sometimes, at least...