From London town
Well, kids, as I figured, with Laurie in charge of it, my new laptop began to sulk and wouldn’e2’80’99t connect to the world its little tabs told me was out there. All those electronic waves, and nobody to link up with’e2’80’a6
When last I wrote, dear diary, I was flinging things in the direction of my suitcase in preparation for a day amongst the natives of Los Angeles. Actually, I suppose very few of them are, strictly speaking, natives, but it’e2’80’99s the sort of place that anyone who has lived there longer than two months is considered more or less native. But I digress.
My intrepid guides to this foreign land are the two good ladies who took me on as a client some years ago, my agents at Cinelit. Everything you think you know about Hollywood agents? Forget it. These women actually read books. Even when they don’e2’80’99t have to for their job.
We fought out way from the airport down Lincoln Boulevard, a land of car dealers and nail salons, to a lovely hotel on the beach at Santa Monica, where we had lunch watching the seagulls and roller bladders skim up and down. Thus fortified, we ran the gauntlet back into the city to see the various people who express an interest in transforming first KEEPING WATCH and then A GRAVE TALENT into films for the small screen. And I have to say, if these project come through, they’e2’80’99ll be in good hands. Everyone in sight had won prizes and worked with fabulous actors, and I kept wondering, ‘e2’80’9cSo why are you people talking to me?’e2’80’9d But there is little more ephemeral then a project in Hollywood, so I shall say nothing more as to these prospects. If anything firms up with either or both of them, I shall let you know.
I was then taken back to LAX for my evening British Airways flight to London. I went through security, found a lack of restaurants on the other side, and went back out to hunt and gather, ending up at a sushi place for some California Rolls (do they eat California Rolls in Japan??) and green tea. Thus fortified, back through security and hiking down to the far end of the world, to wait for an hour, then another hour, all the while being reassured that the tail winds were so powerful we’e2’80’99d be there early anyway. Since all I wanted to do was sleep, I was not much interested in the arrival, but eventually we were let on, I was given my magic pod in business class (bought with miles, not dollars,) and I went to sleep.
For six hours. I’e2’80’99ve never slept six hours on a plane. Barely had time to watch a movie at the end of it, but I arrived without that horrid, coming-out-of-anesthetic sensation I usually have at the end of a long flight. My stepson met me and took me home for a cup of tea, gathering up the family and going into London to remove my daughter’e2’80’99s accumulated kitchenware, suitcases, and four-foot tall giraffe keyholder. We had dinner in a remarkably noisy Thai pub (the food and owners were Thai, the beer English) with Manchester United trouncing some opponent named ‘e2’80’9cTun’e2’80’9d on the screens overhead. (We were all a MU crew, and no one could tell me whether Tun was Tunbridge Wells or Tunisia. Nor did they care.)
Then, flagging at last, I was dropped out near Hyde Park at the hotel, where I passed again into blissful sleep, unheeding of the cars and sirens outside my window.
The next day, rainy London.