Wednesday 26 May 10
The thing about doing this Who Do You Think You Are show is that you just don't know what's going to happen next. Of course you suspect, and if, like me, you have a vivid imagination, your mind flies to many and varied outcomes and the possible circumstances you will find yourself in next in your quest. But, because of the unfolding nature of the narrative of the show, you're not privvy to the next step until you're just about to take it (or in some cases, make it).
So today when I was told I was about to get on a Belgium-bound train, I was immediately Hercule Poirot, Agatha Christie's avuncular detective, sniffing round the carriages for clues, twiddling my waxed moustache as I mulled over a still smoking cigarette or a discarded piece of stationery with a mysterious number scrawled on it.
Naturally tonight I find myself not in Belgium and waiting vainly for room service to arrive in a Crowne Plaza hotel. Hercule Poirot I ain't.
This past day has been mostly travel, a lot of trains, which I have enjoyed, and also a lot of time to mull over the first two days that have opened the magic chest of my family's secrets. It's amazing to find out how much information was actually available to me had I only known where to look, and now I am able to take that information and have experts aid me piece together a narrative, and characters. It is fascinating, completely all-encompassing and utterly frustrating that I cannot do it twenty-four hours a day.
Room service has just arrived. It's slim pickings for a veggie. Infact, it's a lot of cheese and salad. I am sure my dreams cannot get any more vivid or infused with what I am finding out every day though. So what the hell, hang the mucus membranes, I am off to pig out.
Randon video of the day.... That Sunday, a short film I made in 1993 with Minnie Driver.