Friday I was the boss, so when everyone else packed up spot on six I did the same and went home for a very retro evening. I’d been sent one of those old Atari joysticks from the 80s that have had their insides ripped out and replaced by clever electronics so they have 10 Atari games built in. How we could ever have called them fun first time around I don’t know. Games back then did nothing. Pong, Breakout, Centipede - they are just blocks on a screen and some poor monophonic beeps.

Still, for the curiosity value it was interesting, and it did show how much games have moved on. The thing I missed most was the ability to save my score, or having any kind of a reward for doing well one a level (like another level, for example, rather than simply more of the same).

Anyhow, the novelty wore off fairly quickly, and I switched back to TV, which in itself is a bit of a rarity. Found The Adventure Game on Challenge TV. I used to love that as a kid but again, watching it now, it’s very primitive. I remember the climax to the show each week being an exciting suspense-filled segment where each player tried to work their way across the matrix, avoiding the vortex so they could get safely back home, but now you can see that it’s just some dodgy graphics from an old BBC B. Even the beep is the same.

So, my childhood shattered twice in one evening I went to bed.

(Ooh - I see someone is selling a whole load of BBC B stuff on eBay.)

Saturday morning, Dad’s weekly phone call. He didn’t recognise me because he was using his mobile, and for the same reason I didn’t recognise him. There was also a distinct echo. The mistral has killed all the land lines in his bit of France, he said. You pick up the phone in his flat and all you get is an eerie howling scream.

He said that over there the war is getting very little media coverage, regardless of the number of stations and channels over here that are devoted to covering it as rolling news. It was relegated to page 27 in his paper one day last week, which is fair enough. It isn’t a French war, after all.

Anyhow, that got me out of bed at a fairly decent time, and so I was sitting in front of the notebook typing at the novel with mugs of steaming tea throughout the whole of the morning. The weather was fantastic, so I hijacked Paul’s garden, in return for making him some lunch, and sat writing in a deckchair on the lawn. I can’t say I found it that productive - I got far more done when I’d been sitting inside by the open window. Still, it was good to spend an afternoon enjoying the start of summer, in spite of the fact we’re barely half way through spring, and by the end of the weekend I’d clocked up almost 6,000 brand new words.

Packed up around six and rode the train in to London for Mike’s stag do. I don’t go into Soho all that often at the weekend, so twice in a month is an exception. Still, it’s not every day you know someone getting married.

Bumped into Mark on Oxford Street on the way to the White Horse, which was about as packed as it is on a work night, and we mooched to the pub. The gathering was like a MacUser night out with a few hangers-on, myself and Mark included, so there was plenty of chat potential. About half of the group I’d been on trips with; about half of the remainder I know from briefings.

So, after drinking at the pub we went on to Soho Spice for curry. It’s ages since I’ve been there, but the food is still great, much like the service. Some of them had spent the afternoon karting and, in their drink-merry state, were going on to Spearmint Rhino for exotic laydees, poles and nudity. Like the rest, I took the option of a train home rather than a night stranded in the centre of the city - far preferable to the idea of dancing girls.

The train was refreshingly free of vomit, and in spite of the fact it left late and I was in bed late I was up in time to get some more good writing done before heading out for lunch with Trevor, Jon, Steve’s Challenge and the Midnight Weatherman at the Rising Sun. It was Steve’s Challenge’s last weekend of freedom before switching to a weekend shift and moving his weekends to Monday and Tuesday. Terrible, terrible choices of music did their best to drown out our chat. Turns out everyone has a lot more in common than we ever thought, with paths crossed whole decades ago.

We stayed for a good three hours then went out separate ways. Paul came back to mine for tea in front of the best bits of Moonraker, For Your Eyes Only and The Man with the Golden Gun. Paul fell asleep and I wandered off, leaving Moonraker running, to mooch around online and find some links for tonight’s Through the Night feature. Settled on ‘audience participation’ as a theme.

1. Lots of Lab
   All the guests for the show are booked and confirmed. It's been a dead easy week, radio-wise - just like having your own PR company...
   
   
2. Eating
   Two days of eating. Far, far too much eating. It started yesterday morning - Christmas morning - after Dad had dropped me off at mum's....
   
   
3. Eating in the garden
   What is it with this waking up early? How am I supposed to service my dashing lifestyle of late nights when I keep on waking...