Yesterday was a perfect Sunday. Not the kind of Sunday you spend doing absolutely nothing except eating biscuits and watching Antiques Roadshow; nor the kind of Sunday you use to go for a picnic in the park; nor even the kind of Sunday you spend in bed because, dammit, it’s the weekend and you’ve got to catch up on all the sleep you lost during the working week. No, yesterday was a perfect Sunday because…
1) I managed to arrive at Leicester Square at dead-on 1.30pm to meet my friend Stella. Yeah, doesn’t sound too exciting, but when you consider all the mainline trains from my local station had been cancelled, I couldn’t get on the Underground at Richmond because of a signal failure and I somehow got into London by catching a train going in completely the wrong direction, it’s goddammed miraculous. After three trains and one long wait after someone pulled an emergency lever, I. Was. Still. On. Time. How did that happen? I can only be because I’m so skill.
2) I had a lovely lunch with Stella. Doctor Who and The Mighty Boosh were discussed. Yummy.
3) I met up with some of the gentlefolk from SFX magazine and took part in a quiz as part of the Sci-Fi London festival. We came a very respectable second, too. I’m glad we didn’t win – seeing as SFX sponsored the quiz, it would have looked like a fix. Second was fine and dandy… and congratulations to the people who beat us!
The quiz was great fun and the best question was this: “Name the film poster Agent Mulder pissed against in the X-Files movie.”*
You wouldn’t hear that on Mastermind.
4) Everyone else on my team won beer, but as a tee-totaller I sloped off with a photograph from 2001: A Space Odyssey signed by actors Keir Dullea and Gary Lockwood. I can’t look at it without giggling – not because it’s funny, but because it’s such an odd thing to own. It’s even humourously creased and battered, like it’s had a long, unloved life. I hope it’s happy on my wall.
5) I got asked for my autograph. I love it when that happens. (I would insert a ‘smiley face’ here to accentuate the point, but I hate the little yellow bastards.)
6) I finally got to have a good chat with SFX editor Dave Bradley, not to mention his lovely missus. I’m still reeling from the fact he used to work in the Waterstone’s down the road from my house. Small world. Incidentally, old SFX editor Dave Golder was at the quiz, too, and the Daves were introduced by the Quizmaster as “the new and old Doctors”. Bet they loved that!
7) I took a stroll along the Thames on the way home, passing a feeble funfair in Old Deer Park (which was in the same spot last year and was nicknamed the “no-funfair” by my mate Biddy). They were giving away goldfish as prizes and I came very close to launching an Animal Liberation-style commando raid to rescue them. To be fair to the funfair, they weren’t actually in little plastic bags but in a proper fish tank and were being sold with a full goldfish kit, but it’s still bloody dubious giving live creatures away as funfair prizes, isn’t it?
As a recently-bereaved pet-owner their little golden fins were very enticing. Thus I would like to thank Pet Shop Anny, who talked me out of rescuing them when I called her for moral support. “They’ll die the minute you get them home,” she pointed out, probably correctly. Thank heavens for a clear head. (Now if I can only get her to stop sending me pictures of her baby rats… I don’t want another one, Anny, honest!)
8) Eventually I got home, had a nice meal and watched the latest four episodes of Supernatural one after another. Marvellously, now that it’s nearing the end of its first season Supernatural‘s finally hit its stride: there were some corking stories in that quartet. Scary, too. I’m ashamed to say I had to turn the lights back on for one of them; it featured a Poltergeist homage and there was no way I could watch it in the dark. I haven’t been so scared since I saw the Buffy episode “Hush”! But then, I am a giant girly wuss.
If all those hours spent watching Jensen Ackles isn’t a good way to round off a Sunday, I don’t know what is. I also have to admit that getting an eyeful of Jared Padalecki’s chest in one episode wasn’t too scary, either…
Altogether now, girls: “Phwoar!” Sorry to reduce you to a sex object, Jared.
*Independence Day. I got that one right.