So while I was running the office, looking after the kids, doing the shopping, organising the house and trying to write, Hanan was having breakfast with Lisa Ray. Here's a picture. Bitter? Moi? She deserves breakfast with beautiful women every morning, only I am not going to tell her that, because that can only go badly for me. Anyway, I digress. Hanan landed at Heathrow after her 12 hour flight from Vancouver and called me. What does Hanan say to you after a such a heart-wrenching absence, I hear you ask? 'I kissed the tarmac when I arrived on the soil that holds the love of my life'? Or: 'I found my existence in Canada meaningless because you weren't by my side?' Sort of. For a fraction of a moment, and then it went like this (as she went through passport control):
HK: 'Can you look up B-A-N-F-F or something online?'
SS: 'What?'
HK: 'It's a place in Canada. They have the biggest TV festival in the world. We keep talking about I Can't Think Straight the TV series, we should do it.'
SS: 'When is this festival anyway?'
HK: 'Saturday. Oh, and can you find me a flight to Calgary that day?'
SS: 'I'm divorcing you.'
HK: 'OK, but let me know about the flight, OK?'
Within 6 hours, Aida and I (OK, it was mostly Aida) had located this thing, registered, got flights, emailed all attendees and now I have 24 hours to write the treatment. I would get divorced but I don't have time...