Monday, 23 March, 2009

Tube to Pimlico to meet Big Tony Hadley. He’s hardly changed in the 45 years since last I saw him & we warmly embraced. If only Gordon could have seen us. He said Martin Fry was busy & anyway he thought I should have first pick of the orange feathers for fending off tubercle vendors. It’s touching of him to think of me this long since the Aldwych days. After that it was back to drookitdrear Greenwich for dress readings of this rotten play & we have to play it in Brighton on Friday. Out of season. I could ring William Gaunt for some Twiglets but that thrill is long gone. Reg Holdsworth and the parrot hatch. Tradiola. It was as inevitable as Hardy.