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Sunday, February 22nd

At the Old Vic, Albert Finney is on the stage sorting out the acts.

We run through ‘Custard Pie’, then hang around in the not altogether convivial atmosphere of dozens of well-known faces. Jimmy Villiers, Mike Jayston (they are familiar via the footy matches), John Le Mesurier, Julian Holloway, Barry Rutter, Glenda Jackson, Gaye Brown, George Sewell, Joss Ackland, Ron Pickup, Bernard Cribbins (lovely feller) etc, etc. Everyone being a wee bit defensive, so am quite glad when we four dilettante comedy artists, who find ourselves at the end of a bill lasting at least three hours, leave the claustrophobic clutches of the Old Vic and end up across the road in the George Inn, London’s last galleried pub. Inside, on uncarpeted floors, with black beams and yellowing walls and benches and tables, we find the perfect place to while away a couple of hours. We drink a few pints and swap stories of old cabarets.

Back at the theatre we stand in the bar and watch the performance on closed circuit TV. It’s 10.00 and they are still doing the second act – we are at the end of the third.

Willy R was now on the double scotches and philosophising about this being the ideal way to go to the theatre. Sitting in the bar watching it all on TV – perhaps all the theatres in London should be wired up so, drink in hand, you could switch over to the Wyndhams when you got bored with Ibsen at the National.

We went on eventually and did our bit. Albert Finney was drinking champagne and swaying about a little as he introduced us. We proceeded to do less than the best version of’Custard Pie’, but no-one cared by then.

Tuesday, February 24th

Worked a near four-hour stint this morning on the ‘Mystery at Moorstones Manor’ whodunnit story. Useful reading it to the Herberts on Saturday night last, their reaction helped me to sort out a new sense of direction for the sketch – which is nearing an ending – as TJ arrives up here about 1.30.

We chat, Terry had a bad week for writing last week – he was buying cars for Nigel, etc, and lost all the afternoons. My strategy of fairly disciplined writing and trying hard not to get involved in side work has paid off with the whodunnit, which TJ liked a lot and he’s taken it away now to think of an ending.

Wednesday, February 25th

Work on the ‘Curse of the Claw’ – a story begun by Terry and featuring the wonderfully scabrous Uncle Jack, the boy/narrator’s hero who has all the diseases known to man, at the same time.

Both Terry Hughes and Jimmy G were on the phone today to firm up arrangements for the twelve Ripping Yarns. Python film writing is now almost certainly shifted to November/December this year, leaving September/October free to film two Ripping Yarns.

Then comes the problem of the day – a bulky script bound in livid purple and called Jabberwocky, which was dropped in by T Gilliam yesterday for me to read. He wants me to play the part of Dennis, the peasant, one of only two central figures in the script. It sounds something I would like to be involved in, but will require a two-month commitment in the middle of the year.

Talking to Jill F on these matters, she tells me that she had been asked about my availability for a new Tom Stoppard play at the Open Space. Job of jobs! Delight of delights! But unfortunately it’s in April and I’ll be treading the boards on Broadway. Well, near Broadway.

Friday, February 27th

I work through until 5.00. Steady and pleasing progress on ‘Across the Andes by Frog’, one of three storylines which are already in sight of an ending.

The last two weeks’ work have been very prolific and satisfying, with only a couple of days when I chased a red herring and got stuck up a gum tree in a cul-de-sac, and very little dull stuff. Most of the writing has been a pleasure to read the next morning, which is the best test of quality. I enjoy the writing, I enjoy my house, my family and, more than anything I enjoy the feeling of seeing each day used to the full actually