Clocks went forward, so up late, all of a tither, no time even to shave. But pleased to see Bertie is back.
Frustratingly, I need to go back to London for the 4th time in a week. It's complicated, but Steve Meehan, the 425 Producer, is on holiday, & Rhow has stepped in to take his place. She has gone to Estonia, with Billy the Cameraman, and I've been asked to go to The Vic to be the Producer, for want of another word. At-It Bradley will be the interviewer, and it's my job to select the subjects, sort the 'link', direct the Cameraman, that sorta thing. Thought about asking Rhow, 'What is a producer supposed to do?', but thought it would sound daft. Sit at the Bar for hours from what I've seen.....
The down train takes 3 hours - 'Engineering work' - and I arrive at The Vic at 3pm. Cameraman turns up, nice bloke, but he's never done Poker before, so I explain the drill. Ian Bradley is worrying me, 3.30pm & he's not here. Turns out he is unwell, & won't be coming. Panic! So I'll have to do the interviews. Unshaven, not got a decent shirt on, this is becoming a bit of a disaster. We do the 'Link' outside The Vic, in the rain, & it's a 9 take jobbie. Every time I give my spiel, a car honks it's horn, then Couch walks past & gives it the 'spin on this' finger sign, followed by Nowab and The Yongsta. And two guys - the lovely & mischievous Jeff Duval was one - insist on saying 'Hi' to me while I am mid-spiel. OK, got it sorted.
Pre-final interviews with Monty Burns, John Kabbaj & Kevin O'Connell went okay-ish, but I'm not at my best, not at all, my head is all messed up. Wonder how they will come out? Tim Flanders won't be interviewed, he's still as mad as hell with 425 for the slur on his name that was inadvertently aired a week or two back. I understand his annoyance, and he is fine with me. I offer an interview to The Vic so they can give their side of the 'Blinds & Levels' palaver, but they show no enthusiasm. That's a shame.
Poker Zone were also at The Vic, and I was asked to give them a series of mini-interviews, direct to camera. Easy peasy, but the questions were a bit awkward and not easy to answer in an interesting manner. The interviewer was a stunning young lady, Sally, long, calf-length skirt, with a 'split' almost up to the waist, and a sort of mini-skirt underneath. I try not to stare.
Once the Final starts, I want to use my lappie to get those articles written & across to sloppy, but that goes wrong too, we only have 2 usable Lappies, so I can't.
Great, great final though. Everything finished around midnight, I do all the post-final interviews, job done. NOW I can sit and write those Articles, and although it was a difficult environment in which to focus, I get them done by 0430, just in time to be kicked out of the cardroom by the friendly Vic staff. Burnley John is going to Euston, me to St Pancras, and Couch to Liverpool Street, so it's a 1 taxi, 3 drop off affair. Catch the 0615 Meridian Plastic thingy, home for 0900, in bed by 0930, wrecked again. Bertie is singing, & I fall asleep listening to him, with Angell purring happily on the bed. Life is good.