7.34 am. Wet and cold. Wonderful weather for jogging, as it feeds the soul with feelings of superiority and mental well being. God, I love myself at moments like that. Unfortunately they are far too rare, and the rest of the time, I am a pathetic creature, struggling to come to terms with my ageing body. Or perhaps I am just exhausted after my ten yard hike.
11.30 am. Email from Angel Eye with their thoughts on the Vicar Chronicles presentation for Channel Four. It appears that I am to become Punk's male lover, and that we may be constantly on tour together. Hmmm.
Channel 4 are now looking for shows which have "less young aspirational characters and more young non-aspirational characters. Non aspirational means that if it's a teacher then it's a drug taking teacher. If it's a lawyer, it's a cynical lawyer, who hates his job."
It would seem that rather than allowing creative souls to create great television, the channels are setting paramaters, which result in the much loved Vicar becoming a homosexual, drug crazed roadie. This might not be a bad thing, of course. The diaries might improve. Although I think Punk's beard would scratch.
19.51. A telephone call from Tony Wadsworth. It would seem that my words of war may have brought about peace. EMI wish to settle my audit claim. I trust the mighty Fripp will be similarly successful. I sense an imminent appointment with a chocolate delight I have been saving for just such an occasion.
"A mistake is always forgivable, rarely excusable and never acceptable."
