We are not in Cambridge any more, Toto.
That was borrowed from a quote from a film. I know about films now, having spent a week learning to write them, and so I thought I would start with a tag-line inspired by a piece of blockbusting cinema.
I meant to ask during the course what blocks were, and how they became busted, but forgot, and now it will stay for ever a mystery, like where you put the apostrophe in Master’s’s degree.
Anyway, I have learnt lots of things about writing for stage and screen, and now if any of you need a film writing you can just ask and I will be able to bash one out in no time, complete with pitch, treatment, tag-line and Bible. I will have to look all of those things up in my notes again to remind myself of what they actually are, but once I have checked it out I will be firing on all guns, lock, stock and two smoking barrels.
Can’t you tell I have got films on my mind?
I don’t suppose it is the sort of knowledge I will need very often, it isn’t exactly everyday useful, like knowing what gas mark it is when the recipe says a hundred and sixty degrees, not that I ever know that either. Still it has been very interesting indeed, and if you are going to learn about writing for the screen then the very best people to be telling you really must be the chap from The Crown and the chap from Eastenders and some other chaps from other things that I have forgotten because of not actually having seen them.
I have thoroughly enjoyed being educated.
I didn’t know if I was glad or sorry to wake up for the last time in my little Cambridge bedroom this morning. It was very pleasant to stagger across the courtyard into the dining room for eggs and sausages cooked by somebody else, who then cleared up and made my bed whilst I strolled back across the courtyard to spend the rest of the day sitting around thinking philosophical thoughts and nodding pensively at other people’s philosophical thoughts. We had a little break from this mid-morning, during which somebody else had helpfully provided us with tea and cake before they dashed off to cook my lunch.
Honestly, it’s exhausting being a student.
Today was, of course, the Strike Day, but I was so worn out from a week of eating cake that my dudgeon levels stayed fairly low. In any case, our senior tutor, a truly admirable chap called Rupert, nobly decided not to go on strike but to stay and listen to us in our spannerless Workshopping. He felt this was because we needed the direction of a sensible and skilled writer to supervise us instead of just our own misguided ramblings.
He was absolutely right about this, he is one of the most perceptive chappies I have ever come across, and I left with my usual sensation of mild awe about all the things he had noticed that had utterly bypassed me.
I do not think that sensitivity and perceptiveness are my most noticeable personality traits. Perhaps I ought to try harder.
Anyway, we spent all morning loafing about talking earnestly about one another’s scripts, some of which were jolly good, I thought, and then it was time to go.
I had shoehorned my colossal suitcase into the back of the car before breakfast, so all I had to do was get in and wonder why the engine light had not switched itself off, I think something might be malfunctioning a bit but it got me home so I didn’t care.
Mark was still not ready when I got back, so we had a frantic rush hurling things into the van and dashed off, late.
It is working. We are once again the happy owners of a functioning motor home. It has a new axle, some new suspension, some new springs, some new brakes, a new torsion arm, and some other new things that I have forgotten. I wonder how many things you need to have new on a van before the DVLA decides that it is not the same van any more.
We are just past Glasgow. In short, just in case you needed an explanation of the excruciating title pun, we are Movie-ing fast.
Gordonstoun here we come.
There was a picture of Oliver on the school website which I liked so much I have shared it here. It his dance show.
I was so sorry to have missed it.
