I’m shattered.  It’s been a week and a half. Why do people use that phrase (Its been a week and a half!) when it’s actually been a week! It’s not even been that. It’s been five days. Five fuckin days clenched up like a fuckin fist.   

On Monday night my friend  Shobna Gulati was on television at 9.30pm on a programme called Empire’s Children. I’ve been saying for the past month to Shobna that  I will
watch it.  Could I see it. No I couldn’t.  I am going to birthday party for a friend of The Journalist.  The party,  a night at The Comedy Store in Piccadilly at a Charity event for   Miriam Hyman , is great. It’s  an hilarious night with top notch comedy. Miriam died in the 7/7 bombings in London.   It’s 95 percent jewish people and I just love it.  As a performer I have to teach myself the art of listening and watching. I must go to more events to enjoy them. The South Bank will be wonderful for this. Anyway.  I laughed till me balls fell off which was totally impractical as I had to get on me hands and knees to find them.   By Wednesday I have subscribed to 4od, channel fours online service where  I download
shobna’s documentary which by Friday I have still not had the time to sit and watch. 

Back to Wednesda y. I was at The cinnamon Club to launch supersonic,  a video about people in care who have done well for themselves, of which apparently I am one.  It is organised by Maxine of A National Voice  and The Princes Trust.  We are in the shadow
of The houses of Parlaiment where history is being made today with a new Chidlren
In care Bill being passed ! We’ll see. This is pure coincidence but adds a certain frisson to the Supersonic event. The Supersonic video is shown,  Lord Lamming speaks and  the princes trust sign a declaration to work specifically with National Voice regarding Children in Care. I brought my friend Paul Sapin, the film maker – makes documentary films with rageh omar at al jazeera –  who is in London for a week and who comes back to ours in Clapton  for a Steak for dinner and a chat about projects. Love it. Thursday and Friday are ridiculously admin heavy days. Not a minute to spare. Sad really.

Discovered this week The Claptonian, a website which is not yet formulated.  Apparently
that is what I am, “A Claptonian”. I feel like I should have a toga and a dagger or something and rename myself Minimus. Minimus of Claptonia. Or Literatus of Claptonia. Is more than one Claptonian a claptonium of claptonians. Who knows?  

 Spent the whole week falling in and out of The Journalist which is tiring.  My feelometer is not at its best, probably in the red bit that reads “SHIT” but I have got to watch out. Sometimes I hug the problem – cling on to irrelevances – when I need to fold it origami like into a  swan and then  send it floating into the lake with the other thousands that are out there slowly getting soggy and disappearing beneath the stillness!  It’s all in the careful
honest and truthful act of folding, I tell you.  In case you’re wondering, which you probably weren’t, I’m okay.  And in case youa re wondering some more I’ll be on at the latitude festival tomorrow night and I’ll be on at The Hackney Empire on Sunday. Peace

 I once asked a friend of a friend  when he came back from holiday where he was looking love “did you fall in love?”. He was Scottish, of the highlands,  sunburnt from his sojourn  to the costa del sel and replied wistfully   “no, but ahhh did a lot of fallin’” . This week I’ve been doing alot of falling.