Emma Thompson

One of those days – a bit too tiring – vaguely stressful – I’m always surprised at how easily I can buy into that instead of working against it. It’s the dog with a slipper syndrome.

Talk to Rima, bless her, she always can make me laugh.

The most beautiful day. Blue, clear skies and clean hard sunshine.

Nice to see Gary Oldman on stage

must try not to be sucked into other people’s problems when all it does is drain my energy.

walled town, public holiday, everything’s shut, walk around the shuttered windows, snooze at the hotel, go out for some dinner (if anything’s open) find the obviously annual relay race around the old town going on (the blue team won), the whole town watching, families everywhere, little children running around or sitting on laps in cafés (even at midnight) totally included. A practised sixth sense leads us to the big open-air pizzeria, red wine, salad, coffee, perfect.

29 August

Very sleepless. The deepest sadness, now depression, settling way down low in the pit of everywhere. Elastoplast – whatever, needed to drag it all up and out for an afternoon of interviews.

First an 11am chat with Judy & Patrick. Something has to be said about Holy Man. How much more work can I turn down?

Meanwhile mixed reviews as far as I can tell. Some of them get it. Some of them not. Start rearranging the inside of my head. Again.

I need months off.

NB Harry Potter is offered . . .

Around the pool and feeling a bit nothing about HP which really disturbs me –

First conversation w. Joanne Rowling. Her sister answers – ‘She’s not here – can I leave a message?’ Cackling in the background . . . ‘Sorry about that! . . .’ ‘There are things that only Snape & you know – I need to know . . .’ ‘You’re right – call me tomorrow; no one else knows these things . . .’