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Sunday 28th February 2016

4839/17498

Apparently no zombies as yet. But if they come then you can put your life savings on the fact that they will originate in Shepherd’s Bush. Pray God we will have escaped before then.

A fun family day at the inlaws who are still threatening to damage conceited children via doormat. Phoebe is full of adventurous spirit and surpassingly resilient, She sees stairs both up and down as a breeze, can stand for about ten seconds and is almost brave enough to let go of tables and sofas and try walking unaided. It’s an exciting time, though I fear I will miss the first steps by being away on tour, or just in another room. She falls a bit, but has inherited her father’s huge, thick and empty skull and can crack her coconut on the floor with a bit of a crack and not even cry. I was a timid and weepy child. I would never have been as brave as her and would make the most of every tiny little fall. I admire her tenacity. She’s off like a shot with crawling, so we’re going to be in a world of trouble when she can run. 

I tried to encourage her to sing for the family, but she does things when she wants and will not be forced. And likes to make me look like a liar who pretends his tiny daughter can sing. She has also learned to kiss, after a fashion. These first kisses from my daughter are the best of my life. Even though technically they are pretty bad kisses. But I also like it when she makes out that she wants me to hug her, but then when I get near she turns away from me and laughs. I wouldn’t have minded if I didn’t have a funny daughter. But I am glad that I have one. 

My mother-in-law came back home with us, so Catie and me got another night off (as well as a lie-in tomorrow) as she took charge. We ended up walking to Portobello Road for a Thai meal. I had been organised enough to book ahead, but thought I would find the place easily as I roughly had the number of the restaurant in my head and assumed I would see it. It had been quite a long walk and it was cold and we were hungry, so my wife was annoyed when we over shot and missed the place, but more annoyed that I then misremembered the number as 210 instead of 240, so we ended up missing it again. Confusingly the restaurant entrance was not on the Portobello Road and it was up above a Japanese restaurant, so I can’t be blamed for any of this (except for not getting the address right or bothering to put the location on to my phone maps). The top end of the Portobello Road becomes a bit post-apocalyptic as well.  So it was a relief to get to our table, fifteen minutes late. And luckily my wife quickly forgave me. 

We used to hang around in this part of London seventeen or so years ago and came to the Portobello road post- TMWRNJ recordings to carry on drinking and get some food and see if anyone recognised us off the telly (I don’t think they usually did, but to be honest I was so drunk already from the afternoon of vodkas and Red Bulls on the Riverside terrace that I don’t really remember much). But as we walked up the stairs to this restaurant it seemed weirdly familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on when, but I was pretty sure I’d been here before. Later I asked the young waiter, who may have been about four in 1999 how long this restaurant had been open and it turned out that it was twenty years. It was a family business so maybe he had been toddling around back then, rather than bringing us beer and wine and steamed sea bass. 

We hardly talked about the baby and had a proper date night. It’s pretty vital to remember to act as people rather than parents every now and again. We bumped into James Acaster at the tube station on the way home, whose girlfriend, it turns out, lives in the flat behind out house with Stuart Goldsmith and Nish Kumar. So there’s another person who might have seen my cock as I walk around naked in the kitchen. I hope so anyway, or why am I wasting my time?

Oscar night, which reminded me that it’s also nine years since we filmed “You Can Choose Your Friends” as we’d done an Oscar night sweepstake amongst the cast. Though TMWRNJ feels like the distant past, my last major TV project felt more recent than that. But life whizzes by and the shadows I have left are evaporating even from my own memory.



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