17th August

Again more computer gazing. More editing and polishing. By the time Amanda ask’s me if I could drive to Hemel and pick up the proofs of issue 3 of her new magazine. I decided that any excuse to get out into the day light is a good idea. Plus I take the camera to take some pictures for the site and this blog.

Having picked up the proofs I head toward the villages of my childhood and backdrop more most of the songs on CD 1. The mobile rings. It’s the girl at the passport office in the west end. Ludicrous though it seems to me, Amber has to have her own passport, in spite of her tender age of 20 months. The passport form is a nightmare. When we went through this process with Django we had to fill the damn thing in 3 times before they accepted it.

When I picked up some forms last week the accompanying guide called ‘How to fill in your passport form’ fell out on to the floor. It is twice the size of the bloody passport form itself! There is also a 4 page booklet about the photo alone.

After 3 goes Tania managed to get Amber to sit for a photo that, just about, fit in with the regulations. I drive straight to the west end and pick the new passport up. Whilst I realise that most parents think that their children are gorgeous, in spite of blatant evidence to the contrary.

The fact is that Amber already has the beauty of her mother. I can only hope that as she reaches her teens she goes through a plain phase, or develops a weight problem. The thought of some smartarse kid turning up at the front door asking for my daughter fills me with horror.

Trouble is I know I’ll recognise him. It’ll be me and I’ll know what he’s thinking. Danny Thompson says that I will live to fear these 5 words: ‘but Dad I love him’. I, myself, am all ready dreading these 7 words: ‘You’ll like him Dad, he’s a musician’.

In the evening I drive back into the west end to meet up with Tony Hawks. We go for a pint and then a bite to eat at an Italian. We catch up. Mostly it’s the complicated private life that Tony’s been leading. Unlike a lot of comedians Tony is a very up and not morose at all. He tells these stories with a little glint in his eye. He refuses to let anything get him down. He’s currently trying to raise enough money to buy a property in the capital of Moldova.

He has become very attached to the country since he wrote his book ‘Playing the Moldovans at Tennis’. A ridiculous tale of a bet with Arthur Smith that ends up with Tony tracking down the Moldovan Football team that played England in a World Cup qualifier, challenging them to a game of tennis and having to beat everyone of them. Whilst there he met and stayed with a family who now keeps in regular touch with. He set up a small clinic in the capital for whom the mother of the family (a doctor herself) now runs under Tony’s patronage. Here they look after disabled kids and offer the kind of service that is no longer available free in Moldova since the collapse of communism. This clinic has proved so popular that they need to move into bigger premises. Hence Tony’s current fund raising activities.

He has made a CD which I will master here and sort out the art work. A good pal has already offered to pay for the pressings. On my way back to the car the theatres were dispensing their audiences back on to the street. It was a warm, pleasant evening. Amid the bustle of the crowds, lights and restaurants I felt a feeling of comfort about being in, and living in London. In light of the heightened tension of the terror alerts in our own back yard, I hope this feeling lasts.