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Oh, what a tit I am. I spent an hour on Saturday afternoon trying to buy a new phone and cursing when the web fell over three times and chucked me offline. Now I know it was all karma: some guardian shopping angel making sure I never made my purchase.

Why?

Erm… because rather embarassingly it turns out my phone was under my desk in the office.

So we had a happy reunion. Kind of. It didn’t help that I’d been looking at the shiny new models in the way in to work and had found two I like and my old one was on strike since the network blocked the SIM. Hmmm.

Lunched with Neil. Not done that in a long long time, but it turns out that since the change of job I’m now just 90 seconds by foot from the studios where he works. In fact, we’re so close I walked straight past and had to double-back on myself. We went to the Ha Ha where he lapsed into his bizarrely accurate Keith Skues impersonations, complete with double time checks and revived forty-fives.

Since coming home and Googling him I’ve discovered I didn’t want to know what he looked like at all. He’s not quite the dithering old man crouched low over a mixing desk I thought he was.

Skues, I mean - not Neil.

I’d imagined someone with the gravitas of John Simpson, but from the looks of things he ought to be presenting Catchphrase.

This entry was posted on Monday, October 27th, 2003 at 11:35 pm and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.