We made it through our latest deadline! Hurrah!
Never work in the magazine industry if you don’t like long hours. And by ‘long hours’ I mean 15-hour days and 5.30am starts. It’s not nice. However, the hours may be long but at least the laughs are loud: our office is never dull. So many daft things happen that you start getting used to the craziness after a while.
For instance, last Wednesday our News Editor threw his bag on his shoulder and waved everyone goodbye with a cheery, “See you on Monday!”
I was puzzled – I had no idea he had time off. “Monday?” I said. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yeah. The World Stunt Awards. In Los Angeles.”
“Really?” [Pause] “Er, have fun.”
As I type this we have three – yes, three – members of staff in LA, one on holiday in Cyprus and two just returned from, respectively, Florence and Greece.
I went to Torquay the other day. Not quite as glamorous, but hey-ho.
Anyway, one of the perks you do get working on a film magazine is seeing movies long before they hit the cinemas. Yesterday I went to a preview of Elijah Wood’s new film, Everything Is Illuminated, which features him as a young Jew visiting the Ukraine to find the woman who helped his grandfather escape the Nazis. It was, by turns, hilarious and deeply moving. I’m a bit miffed, though, because we saw it at Warner Bros HQ in their remarkably swish cinema – giant, electronically operated leather seats worthy of Joey and Chandler in Friends. And my bloody chair wouldn’t recline! I kept pressing the button and nothing happened! Rotten swizz. I still feel cheated a full 24 hours later.
Another perk of working on a film mag is that, very, very, very occasionally someone comes up to you and says they enjoy your writing. We had a nice chap in our office this week doing work experience and he informed me that his girlfriend really enjoys the column I write for SFX. And he asked me to sign a copy for her! What a sweetie! I don’t think anyone on Total Film who witnessed it will ever let me live it down, though. Our Features Editor asked me to sign his arse and I had to politely decline.
It was also London Fashion Week this week and there were models everywhere. I don’t know what was more amusing: the sight of these elegant, gorgeous, shining beauties riding the Underground and trying not to touch anything grubby (bit difficult, that) or the sight of every man on the train gazing at them with a faraway glint in their eyes. Meanwhile all the women in the carriage – including yours truly – wondered when these gamine creatures had last eaten and how on Earth they’d managed to find such tiny thigh-length boots. These girls’ legs were so skinny that the boots must have been moulded on skeletons.
Half the rumbles on the Tube last week were probably stomachs begging for food rather than trains.