All time are approximate. Except for the ones that aren’t.
8:25am: In Moksha, getting scripts into a form Localisation can work with. Takes longer than expected. Notice ‘LU’ is twice as long as other scripts. Could be an issue.
10:30am: Baffled as to why video that took 20 minutes to render, and is apparently 94Mb in size, runs for 11 seconds instead of six minutes. And why eight of those 11 seconds are one image, frozen.
10:50am: Secure petty cash for London trip. Surely it will be enough to cover a few cabs.
12:15pm: Leave the office feeling like a Sherpa, with three bags slung over shoulders.
12:34pm: On train to Bedford… which I get off at Farringdon.
1:56pm: In Liverpool Street, having that “I’m over here under the big news screen… I’m the one carrying three bags… I have a beard” conversation that you tend to have with total strangers when rendevousing in public via mobile phone.
2:15pm: At costume designers, seeing things which just one week ago were outlines given shape and taken form. Impressed.
4:00pm: Have now seen what a woman painted grey-blue looks like. Life complete.
4:30pm: Making executive decision on length of hemline. In this case, has to be longer.
4:40pm: Swapping casting stories.
5:15pm: Watching costume people accomplish the impossible.
6:08pm: In Cab 2 of 2, en route to photo shoot. Grey-blue woman is in Cab 1 of 2.
7:15pm: Helping to move lights.
7:30pm: Eating chocolate and nuts.
7:45pm: Watching through a laptop attached to a camera. It’s like a live magazine spread. Except when it stops working.
8:37pm: Hurrying things along.
8:45pm: “Too… porno face.”
9:09pm: Seeing the pair together for the first time. Stunned.
9:50pm: Realising we have 25 minutes, not 40 minutes left. Chop chop!
10:05pm: Acting as impromptu wind generator.
10:07pm: Fired from above position.
10:15pm: “Less Bruce Lee hands.”
10:35pm: Ordering cabs.
11:15pm: Choosing best photos off on the way to Liverpool Street (via Brick Lane). Not so easy in the back of a cab, against the clock.
11:23pm: Saying goodbyes, see you next weeks.
11:45pm: Fending off Italian drunk kids with “I’m tired.” Reply: “I have worked eight hours in… [garbled name of shop.] I am tired too…” Check phone. “I’ve worked… fifteen hours right now.” He backs down.
11:53pm: Walking towards Victoria Line in Oxford Circus. Tannoy announcement: “Due to planned engineering works there will be no more Victoria Line services from this station tonight.” Wonder if the guy watching me on video somewhere can hear me swearing.
11:57pm: In cab on way to Victoria Station.
12:05am: On slow train home.
1:18am: Moaning aloud. Pain in calves is delaying progress home.
1:23am: Bed.
1:50am: Finish blog entry.
