Heatwave hysteria

Ben (who works with Mirinda) had a letter published in the Telegraph this week. This is what he wrote (though he maintains his funniest work was edited out by the paper):

Heatwave hysteria

SIR – Is there to be no respite from heatwave hysteria?

I perspire with anxiety lest I succumb to the endless warnings of sunburn and goodness knows what awful consequences from working in over 35-degree heat.

I’m deafened by the laughter of tourists from genuinely hot countries at the incessant Underground announcements to “carry a bottle of water with you”. I’m overcome at the terrible tales of heat-induced natural disasters, from the worm-starved animals unable to burrow into the hard ground to the parched perches of the River Teme.

Can’t we all just get a grip?

Ben Hughes

And while I’m quoting other people, back in April, I blipped a photograph of a group of students making a film in the park. Based on the t-shirt of one of them (who turned out to be the director) I found him on Facebook and sent him the link to the photo, asking if it actually was him.

Well, it’s taken a while but he replied today, saying:

Hi yes it is, sorry it’s taken so long to reply I didn’t get a notification of this conversation for some reason

It was for a short directing specialism comedy film called The Slapping of a Pregnant Woman. we were just checking the framing and lighting at that moment…

and if you want to find out why his trouser leg was up, well, you’d have to watch the film haha

Here’s the blip and I’ve embedded his Youtube short film in the post below. (It starts with a test pattern and an awful high pitched beep so you may want to turn the volume down until the Phoenix Productions slide appears.)

I asked him what grade he achieved and he said it was only a B, possibly because the marker didn’t get his Tony Hancock style humour. Quirky and cute, I thought.

But enough reflection…it was a Wednesday today so I was off to Canary Wharf for Date Night. And, before I go any further, I would just like to complain that you cannot buy an electric fan in Canary Wharf. There’s a lot of shops but, even so, no fans. Annoying.

On the way to the flat I spotted a new barge docked where the tall ships generally stay. I thought it was worth snapping.

The Oasis, Canary Wharf

She is possibly an ex Dutch inland waterway vessel, now operated by Thames and Medway Freshwater Ltd and acts as a fresh water bunker barge. She delivers fresh water to large vessels visiting the Thames. I like her smooth lines.

Boats aside, we had a lovely dinner tonight at a new restaurant. Actually, it was only new for me as Mirinda had dinner there one night with her Singaporean friend, Jack.

The gazpacho soup for starters was a delight and cooled us down brilliantly: The perfect starter for a hot day.

The rest of dinner was lovely and then we walked back to the flat. It was a lovely evening which I ruined a little later.

I was walking back to the Tube, mind elsewhere, when I tripped over the white line in the middle of the road (not a busy one) and landed painfully on both knees and hands, my glasses flying. I quickly scrambled to my feet and made it to the safety of the footpath before inspecting the damage.

Grazed knees and a painful right hand seemed to be the sum total of my injuries (no-one saw me, so my ego remained unsullied). Still, it slowed me down sufficiently to miss the 10:30 train home by five minutes.

So, a very late night with battle wounds…I’m going to be sore tomorrow.

Canary Wharf from the top of the ferry stop