The Secret Diary of David Edmonds, aged 46 and nine months
With apologies to Sue Townsend
Arrived at Oftel bang on time. But what a day! Had another meeting with BT over this and that - and felt intimidated. Again. Just can't seem to assert myself in front of an audience. I'm fine in front of a mirror. In fact, intimidated myself the other week with a really hard stare. Gosh, I was powerful. Menacing, even. Course, can't do that now - not with this twitch I keep getting every time things get a bit hot under the collar.
Note for later: must remember to practise extra hard look in front of the mirror tonight when I get home. Just keep telling yourself: "I am David Edmonds. I am the winged watchdog...gggrrrrrr. I AM the winged watchdog...gggrrrrrr."
Could only do two-and-half hours last night because I lost my rag. No, really, I lost my rag. Well, my comfort blanket. I couldn't find my silky - I've had it since I was a baby. It's always been there for me. So I had to hunt high and low for it. Eventually found it in the bin. Can't think how it got there. Still, then I got really mad when I opened my phone bill. Couldn't believe how much it was. It's outrageous. Someone's got to do something about this.
Had a meeting lined up with Patricia Hewitt - but she cancelled at the last minute. How do you convey a sign in a diary?
It was raining so I stayed in.
Went for a walk. Spent the afternoon pondering why you never see baby pigeons.
Have a meeting with BT tomorrow about why they're bungling loop the loops - whatever that is. Been told it's important. Oh well, if I have to, I suppose. Apparently, it's really big stuff. BT's boss, Sir Peter Bonfield is going to be there. Nice man - a bit flash though. Intimidating.
Now I must remember, "I am the winged watchdog..."
Do you know all the birds are dying because the worms are drowning? It's true. All the rain we've had means that the worms can't breathe. They're drowning. The ground is just too waterlogged. It's a calamity. No more beautiful birdsong, no more beautiful birds flying beautifully in the sky. And what are people doing about it? Nothing, that's what. This is a crime - a natural disaster that tops any earthquake or suchlike. Maybe this is how the dodo's were wiped out. Imagine it, no robins, no thrushes, no tits.
Spent the morning trying to get a slot on the BBC news at lunchtime. Can't believe they weren't interested. Do they know who I am? That's right, I am the winged watchdog. And I told that Jim bloody Naughtie so.
Missed the meeting with BT - far more important things to do.
Have you noticed that the bulbs are already breaking through the surface? It might be winter but there's life all around if you know where to look. You'd expect crocuses this time of year, of course, but, amazingly, there are daffs too. Surely, it's too early for them. Still no sign of snowdrops. Oh, and one of the heathers has just started flowering too. Managed to dig around in the mud and save a couple of worms - I think the birds were grateful. ®
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