Hi everyone, Tom here. Peter Fleming – architect of the golden age of children’s TV in the 1960s and 1970s – is still filling in for me once I’m up in Edinburgh. He’s here too, but his show’s been and gone now. Take it away, Peter!
Goodness me – do you know, I never would have dreamed so many people would come to see my talk with Larry on the 16th. To talk to such an enthusiastic group of people was simply delightful. I must say, they were laughing rather more than I was expecting for a factual discussion, but I suppose the various tragic failures I’ve made in my life are rather amusing! Save the one that got a laugh followed by a round of applause. That was rather insulting. Larry had a marvellous time as well – but then, he is a comedian! They lapped up his old routines from the 1970s about ladies on the road. He was less happy with the late-night entertainment bill we managed to book ourselves onto the following evening – the younger crowds were less taken with it. Personally, I was relieved that my presentation was finally being met with the respectful deathly silence it deserved!
Since we had a little more free time, and young Tom had said, tongue firmly in cheek, “Please, Peter, don’t flyer for us – you’re just too slow, it’s awful,” and so on Thursday I went for a wander through the National Museum of Scotland. A very illuminating experience, bar a couple of mishaps. At noon, I inadvertently became tangled within the Doomsday Clock, but was able to pass myself off as a component. Then, after finally freeing my tie, I looked at some exhibits when I stumbled across a little fly, crawling across a case. Now, I have hated flies ever since I was a boy. I even used one of my programmes as a form of catharsis in 1973, but even What Disease Has Susan Contracted Today? wasn’t enough to ease my distaste. As such, when I saw the little creature, I decided to go in for the kill.
Now, the way to deal with flies is to wait for the critical moment before they fly away – when they’re at their most vulnerable! I outstretched my arm, inched forward, biding my time, keeping very still – but it turned out the thing had died, and so I was standing in that pose for several hours. Worse still, in that time, two young members of the museum staff mistook this stationary older gentleman for a new exhibit and swiftly erected a glass case around me. They were obviously trying to do a good deed, and they seemed remarkably keen, so I didn’t have the heart to break my silence and correct them. As it was, I stayed in the case for three days, and felt very secure indeed! When I finally became restless, it was only a question of knocking on the glass and startling a passing boy. All in all, an enjoyable trip!
The only trouble is, once I had left the museum, I wasn’t sure where I might be able to find Larry, who had all our door takings with him – as well as all my worldly possession (a signed invoice from Tony Hart). He said he’d be sure to take good care of them all, but now that I think of it, he didn’t say where we should meet once I came back from the museum. He had the keys to our hostel cellar as well. I don’t really know anybody here, I’m afraid. I tried to approach young Tom to ask if I might be able to stay with him over the next few evenings, but every time he sees me walking towards him, he accidentally runs at full speed in the opposite direction.
If anybody reading this is able to assist, do let me know.
Sam & Tom: Unrectifiable is on 3-27 August (not 14), 18:10, Heroes @ Dragonfly (Venue 414), £5 adv/PWYW.
Siân and Zoë’s Sugar Coma Fever Nightmare is on 3-27 August, 18:45, Just the Tonic at The Community Project (Venue 27), £5 adv/PWYW.