Sometimes you have to cram a whole year’s worth of conversation into a single day.
I spent yesterday with my friend James White, who many moons ago was the News Editor on Total Film before flitting off to settle among the bright lights and smog of Los Angeles. I hadn’t seen him since last Christmas and we did so much talking in our eleven hours together that we’d both gone a bit croaky by the time we said goodbye. I’m happy to announce that of those eleven hours of chat, at least ten-and-a-half were spent talking about TV and film. Aha, it’s that SAMEBRAINITY again.
We discussed Heroes in the John Soanes Museum. The merits of Joss Whedon in front of the Rosetta Stone in the British Museum. Doctor Who – naturally – by the London Eye (James: “Look, it’s that Nestene transmitter!”). Eventually we ended up at my place, brainstorming ideas for a future SFX column I’d been pondering, while Angel played on the Sci Fi Channel and James laughed at my framed photo of me and Vecchio and the Mountie from Due South.
As far as geek-fests go, it was a doozy.
I did wonder if, after two years living in California, James might’ve gone a bit Hollywood. You know the thing – if he’d picked up an accent or said “sidewalk” instead of “pavement” or generally couldn’t remember how to use British money any more. I’m happy to say he was relatively unspoiled, if you excuse this small hiccup in Starbucks:
Me: “Could I have a large latte please?”
James: “Could I have a grande white chocolate caffe mocha with peppermint syrup and hold the whipped cream?”
I mean, honestly.