We had some excellent news today. Casting for High Tide is going to be handled by the supremely lovely Briony Barnett. She is going to do a marvellous job and it will be exciting to see who we can entice to be part of this adventure.
I know I should probably maintain the outward impression of professionalism at moments like this, smile to myself and move on. However it would be disingenuous not to admit (that’s very close to a double negative, apologies grammar fans) that it entirely pleasing to talk to someone who “gets” what we are trying to do with High Tide. “Gets” is a nasty verb but one that seems to have been filed in my brain for use at such moments – further apologies to linguists. Anyway, speaking to Briony revealed a shared vision for the film that can only lead to excellent results.
Not that I am allowed to speak to people like Briony. That’s Jimmy’s job. With his cover-star looks, easy charm and excellent selection of belts. Seriously the guy has a whole range of really good belts. I have one belt. And it travels from trouser to trouser, is let in, is let out (more of a frequent occurrence) without a second thought. Jimmy, on the other hand, wears belts with a swagger, with a grace. He makes the belt a thing of poetry. He’s a Belty Wordsworth. A Buckled Blake.
On an entirely different subject I had an argument with a member of staff on the tube this morning. There was dispute over the validity, or otherwise, of a ticket. Now the internet is not going to be interested in my personal battles with fellow humans but on the eve of London Underground’s 150th birthday his cold, unnecessary aggression (plus the fact that I WAS RIGHT SO THERE) put the dampeners on my celebrations. I haven’t time to go into my lifelong love of the tube (engendered by visits to stay with my Great Uncle Ruislip when I was very young) but suffice to say I am a massive fan. The engineering is mind-blowing. The plan (not a map) is an utter classic. The font is unbeatable. And at some point I will reveal my list of my ten favourite stations with a lengthy biography of each. That’s right, biography. To me these places are as dear as people. Alright?
And then I heard Steve Lamacq play this piece of funky indie brilliance and I felt on top of the bloody world:
Oh Jarvis you remain the messiah and I will follow. I will dance and put my arms on my hips and point my fingers like you did in the 90s and I will follow.