I never said I'd post every day!

But I implied it. I even attempted it. So here's a bit of Thursday and all of Friday. Comin at ya on Saturday, when I'm supposed to be carving a pumpkin and boiling sugar...



THURSDAY:
That 0700 hour of admin goes even quicker when I sleep through it. (: I have no guilt, only relief.

The filming of our exclusive interview with the US Ambassador to the UK could have been a debacle due to a complete lack of prep-time but it worked okay. (Today's wierd fact: The position is always referred to as the US Ambassador to the Court of St James.) Instead the 20 second film of two politicians parading in pyjamas for charity caused the whole newsroom pain. I missed all the shots of people laughing at them, and Glenn and Raymond couldn't get past references to "wee willie winkie" without giggling. It took two of our finest correspondents nearly an hour to write five lines of copy, and it took me almost as long to cut it.

FRIDAY:
Wimp. 27 minutes. And for the second half I was actually awake and enjoying cresting the hill and seeing the shallow valley fill up with sunlight, feeling my legs loosen up. I don't know which is better, going to bed at the same time as Ross or managing to get up early and still feel almost normal. I'm going to get kicked out of the guild of editors for these sorts of start times though.

In an attempt to reclaim my social life I went straight from work in Edinburgh to the studio in Glasgow, smearing makeup on my face during the train ride and donning my platform boots before heading to the basement of Stereo for Niall, Boag and Paul's performance:
http://www.myspace.com/littlerockrecords
which ROCKED. Where else would you see Elvis, Freddy Mercury, Michael Jackson, Kurt Cobain, Joey Ramone and friends perform Last Caress? Brilliant.

Not so brilliant was bailing at 1am, that dangerous time when the pubs kick out and the punters lash out. To get out of town I had a choice of the Central Station taxi queue, with wardens, piles of taxis and piles of vomit, or the Queen St Station queue, which was quieter and shorter but still involved half an hour of craic which I was far too tired for. I was all out of small talk. But being female, foreign and alone (not to mention smeared with halloween makeup) I inevitably had to put up with kind attention from tipsy Scottish gentlemen who at least became a level of protection from the more volatile. And they weren't vomiting, which was a big plus. I shook their hands and they told me they loved me as I finally jumped into a black cab.

When I got home I watched an episode of True Blood, to see how proper vampires and proper television was supposed to look. Bedtime? A glorious 0330. Much more normal for me.

From Halloween 2009

I have been alive for 1000 years and I will eat your soul.