Gearing up for 09.09.09; the start of The Events. The first night could be a career-breaker. Will tell all nearer the time.

For now, here’s another picture of me on top of that bus: I posted a couple last November here, and here’s another one, showing a bit more.

It’ll all make sense. You saw it here first, folks. I said at the time it should pay off in 2009: well, we’re nearing the crunch. If it all goes boobies-up, blame those pesky kids: I would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for them.

Thanking you. Please continue.

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I realise it’s all sold out, so you can only hope for returns, but do what you can to see this production at the Wyndham’s theatre. Jude Law is astonishing. Breathtaking. He utterly owns the house, practically dances through the part, pitch perfect and crystal-clear. It’s rare to feel as pampered by an actor: as engaged, involved and spoken to so clearly. Penelope Wilton, probably our finest living stage actress, is magnificent as Gertrude: the closet scene is beautifully turned on its head and the long-awaited eruption between son and mother that brings her part to the fore is wild and shocking. Kevin R. McNally as Claudius is every bit as great. The pace is relentless: the first half is over before you know it, and throughout, the language utterly lucid.

This is not to forget for a second Tennant’s glorious recent portrayal, which I was lucky enough to see and loved, nor the wonderful Jamie Ballard in Jonathan Miller’s less trumpeted (and equally prized) Tobacco Factory production in Bristol: the latter of which must surely get a London revival. All three performances have been, for my money, hypnotic and impeccable. Not that any of these giants need to hear it from me.

But seeing as you might have a royal ghost of a chance to pull strings and see this last of the trio before it disappears, can I urge you to do what you can to get in there. Theatrically these are exciting times.

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Stephen’s amazing transformation makes his picture here look like a before/after shot.

Much fun was had. I was in the Rebecca Hossack gallery today on Charlotte St doing some TV interviews about the exhibition, and the nice lady thought the Julianne Moore was Fergie. Wasn’t sure whether to let it go, but I didn’t, and corrected her. ‘Twas live and everything. Ha.

Well – last night was the combined book launch party for ‘Portraits’ (delayed somewhat due to the West End run), and the start of a 2 week exhibition. We have some photos, but they’re not quite in my hands yet: promise to put some up here when I can.

As mentioned before, the exhibition of prints and originals runs at the Rebecca Hossack Gallery on Charlotte St in London until the 21st. Sales are already high, and if any of you do find that prints are sold out, we and the gallery will aim to get new ones available as soon as we can (aside from the limited runs of course).

I’m also looking at a very handsome oversized postcard set, which we’re going to be selling on the site. Rather yummy. Changes will all happen to the site this week.

Meanwhile, not being a seasoned sun-bather, I burnt myself horrendously on the Venice Lido all down my front. Could not have felt any more like a Brit abroad. Don’t bother with the Clarins SF40 concentrate, that’s what I say.

Otherwise it was a splendid weekend. The Gondolieri proved disappointing as expected. There’s only one handsome chap in this photograph and we all know damn well who it is:

Hope you all have less red and sensitive skin than I do.

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