Well, from 7pm it will all be working, formally; informally, like my old chum the Czech puzzle, various bits will still be in the wrong place and it will take a few more twists and turns until the whole network of colour coded tube lines is replete with trains, just where they are supposed to be, and with staff to run them. Now, might that process have started a full 24 hours earlier? With the complexity of a La Carre plot, rumours are running round the Circle Line, and as far as Ongar, that suggest Bozza was to the peace talks what Churchill was to the RMS Lusitania - he got them sunk, for a greater good. Like in "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy", there are several key suspects and Bozza is but one of them. Piers plays George Smiley in an effort to find the truth and reflects upon where we go from here. To be sure, the fat lady, who I think lives at Arnos Grove, is yet to sing - it ain't over til it's over. Factor in a senior Tory who wants to do to Bob Crow's members what Ronnie Reagan did to the air-traffic controllers in the US of A 30 years ago (look it up: it involved shackles and short-shrift!) and it gets more like "The Russia House" than "Smiley's People".
Meantime, the lovely Em plays Eliza Doolittle to Bob Crow's strikers: "Who will buy these beautiful flowers?" "No-one", says the voice of organised labour and we've a vendor who stands in wilting proof of the economic hardship wrought by the Millwall-Havana Massive. (Look at Bob's T-shirt..)
Away from this weird world of pre-Thatcherite labour relations and slumped small businesses, we find ourselves in the midst of a tragedy. A brutal murder, a beautiful actress sibling, three thugs condemned by the judge as "socially inadequate" and a brilliant campaign to sheath London's knives, too easily used by some of London's youth to kill others of that age group. It starts sadly, gets absolutely desperate in the middle but somehow manages to end on a high note. Ronke will take you through a real life soap and that is not an idle promise.
Damien has gone to Kilburn which I love for its Irish community and Edwardian architecture; but when the reasons why he'd gone there were explained I must have drifted off. Pop-up shops on the high-road appear in my notes and promises of a "good piece". That's renewed my interest but I will be watching it, with you, I trust, without preconditions - bit like Bob and the TfL negotiating teams, I suppose.
In our fizzy entertainment bit, Max has monstered even his own amazing track record - Ray Davies and Heather Graham last night - tonight the Irish band "The Script" who are Sir Paul McCartney's support on his forthcoming tour AND Samuel "BLEEP" L "BLEEP" Jackson, no "BLEEPING" less !!! The Oz went to talk to him and has spent the last few hours in the make-up room with a large bottle of Listerine and a box of Q tips. "Wash my mouth out and cleanse my ears!" she said, on her elegant return. I think she must have said: "Did you really just say "BLEEP"? Coz you can't...!" The Q tips I understand.
Robin warned of a couple of cold fronts last night. And Chrissie risks one or both of them as she journeys to Waterloo. Unless she is very late, in which case she won't make the show, she'll miss the sunset. But she'll still see the dirty old river and people, so busy, before she takes a taxi, into the night. I do hope it is not a chilly, chilly evening for any of us - especially Terry and Julie, for they are in paradise... as will I be when we see and hear a bit more of the Kinkmeister.
I am up for it, and raise the rim of my glass to my mouth to toast you a fine evening's viewing with the two of us and the team.
Alastair and Alex
