My Media Week: Ivan Clark, Independent Media Advisor
Monday
Alarm wakes me at 8.00 am. Lie in bed smoking Marlboro Red whilst listening to R4’s Today Show. Now replete with the bluffers guide to what is important to the London media village, I get up. Shit, shower, shave and leave home at 9.30 sharp. Pass by three different lollipop ladies, presumably on their way home, and wonder why there is no advertising on their big sticks. Distracted by the sight of someone leaving a gym wearing clothes suited to a film premier, I nearly crash my moped into the back of a bus. Reach the office and reply to my first email of the month, excluding those from Nigeria and bogus pharmaceutical companies. It’s a quiet day so return home to spend the rest of the afternoon watching test cricket and reading the Sun. Must talk to someone tomorrow.
Tuesday
Woken at 4.00 am by my son returning home from his night-shift as a painter. Unable to get back to sleep so get up and check out Twitter to see what everyone will be talking about enthusiastically later today. Wake up at midday on the couch. Decide it’s not worth the bother of going into the West End and spend the rest of the day pretending to be a writer. Suffer writer’s block. Must make an effort to see someone tomorrow.
Wednesday
Leave home at the usual 9.30 and catch a bus to the station as I am going out drinking tonight, yippee. Going through Liverpool Street station see someone I recognise, weren’t they at an agency I once worked at. Then I notice lots of expensively dressed people surreptitiously using walkie-talkies. I realise the whole concourse is about to erupt into song and dance choreographed by a spontaneous flashmob. I beat a hasty retreat and return home on the bus to speculate on Facebook which brand was filming their latest commercial and when it will hit YouTube. Planned drinking partner calls to say he’s double-booked for a client dinner and can’t make this evening. Tomorrow I must get out again.
Thursday
Leave home early to drop my youngest at school as my partner is recording her new radio comedy drama today with a bunch of people I’ve never heard of. That’s the thing about radio; it’s only the few loud DJs who get their faces on billboards you ever recognise in the flesh. Mind you I’m sure I overheard John Humphreys in the Red Fort once, I was there with a mate who works for a media group and likes curry and beer while it’s still light. It’s such a lovely day I decide to sit in Soho Square and write notes for my next blog and see if anyone famous goes in or out of Paul McCartney’s office.
Friday
Leave home early for only the second time this year, yesterday’s radio recording was delayed by one of the cast getting ready for an advertising awards event where they are to compere. They overran the normal thirty minutes needed to prepare because they realised most of their turn would need to be in sign-language as nobody will be listening. These adlads and adettes seem to find themselves most interesting. Park my moped right outside the office. Everyone else is still at the gym, I pop round the corner for a toasted egg and bacon sandwich with brown sauce. I need the carbs and protein ‘cos it’s nearly 11.00 am and time for the traditional Friday lunchtime in the pub. See lots of famous faces but can’t remember who, as by the time I get home at 9.00 pm, having gone via my local, everyone looks like Jedward.
Weekend
Go to a great Saturday lunchtime barbeque at mates in Swiss Cottage. He runs a small media network and she is a minor TV news presenter. Saturday evening I’m in my local chatting to my non-celebrity mates, they mainly work in the music business, films and PR. Sunday I go to church because it’s going to be on Songs of Praise and I’d like to see myself on TV.
Phew. What a week. Next week I must write about something interesting.
