Back in June 2010, I really wanted to know whether Apple’s then-new iPad was genuinely useful for writers or whether I just fancied getting one. Nobody seemed to have written about exactly the things I wanted to know, so I selflessly bought one to find out and tell you.

Now I’m bemused that it was only June 2010. Just as with my iPhone, this iPad has become so much a part of my every day work that I don’t understand that I’ve only had it a short time.

But about two or three weeks ago when I was booking flights for a trip, I really wanted to know whether I could get by only taking my iPad. This time there are many articles out there about replacing your MacBook or your PC with an iPad but that’s not quite what I was thinking. Forget what I would normally have used or normally would’ve taken, given the jobs I needed to do, could my iPad cut it?

I have selflessly gone on a ten-day trip the States to find out for you. I’m about halfway through and writing to you from a film noir-style motel that looks right out of Veronica Mars to me. It’s all business in Florida with a completely accidental stopover in New York. Both ways. And within which I’ve managed to arrange some drama meetings.

So there are two things for you right there: Florida business and New York drama. It was impossible to do the work without taking something, and I gambled on taking just my iPad. Ten days is right on the edge of how much clothing you can pack, even though I could cut that down because I knew I’d have washing facilities. If I added my MacBook Pro then as small as it is, that’s another chunk of packing and then there’s the mains cable. There is no possibility that I’m going to let my MacBook Pro get chucked in the hold so adding that one thing would automatically mean two bags instead of one.

Which means everything taking longer. And since my time in New York, especially, is very tight, it made a difference. With multiple bags, I’d have taken a cab from JFK. With only carry-on luggage, I skipped baggage reclaim and was on the New York City subway system at lightspeed.

All of which is great if my iPad did what I needed.

Pretty much, yes. There’ve been some problems. Yesterday I thought I needed to print out some legal documents and I was able to use my iPad to connect remotely to my office Mac in England and email myself the forms, but there proved no way to print them out here. If I were staying in a fancier hotel, it might be different.

Oddly, this blog has been the hardest part to write: for some reason Google insists I want to write it in HTML and never want, for instance, to press Return when I could type me some line break tag instead.

And I did hit a Flash problem. If you know what Flash is, you know that it’s a problem. Even when it works, it’s a problem. But it was flavour of the minute once and I can tell you now that certain official US corporate websites require Flash for no very good reason. Just to enter account numbers into a form, they need Flash. This smacks of a bored web designer to me.

But iPads will not play nice with Flash so I did remote-control my office Mac again and fill out the form there, some 4,000 miles away from me.

Then iPads kind of make you do one thing at a time. You read books on them, or you email, or you write, or you watch films, you don’t tend to skip about between them. And I had to do more of that than usual: I’d look up a tiny detail of some PDF legal form here and need to research another detail about it on a US business website there. Business means financial too so I was checking online banking, moving funds around, recording everything and that meant swapping from the Numbers spreadsheet to the web browser and back and to and back and to.

Two days ago that was fine: I zipped back and forth like nobody’s business. Today, not so much.

If you do something that uses up an iPad’s RAM then when you swap back to, say, the web browser Safari, it won’t have been able to hold the page in memory and so must get it again. That’s fine, but with online banking that’s seen as your logging out of the secure system so today I was re-logging in.

And a similar thing happened with Numbers: when I went back to that spreadsheet, the document had closed.

I get it and it’s not a gigantic deal, but I don’t get how it was happening today when I was in a hurry and not yesterday when I was also in a hurry. You thought the word hurry was key, didn’t you?

There was one difference. Today I was typing standing up as I ran around, yesterday I was typing at the desk and also using my iPad to play music.

Typing. That’s one thing I forgot. I have written thousands of words on my iPad without getting an extra, external keyboard. Thousands of words typed directly on the glass. But it is slower and my fingers do blunt a bit, so shortly before I left the UK I bought an external keyboard. A Logitech Tablet Keyboard for iPad. Quite often it gives me a double character when I first start typing, but otherwise it’s so good that it is transformational.

While we’ve been talking, my iPad has been downloading a film off iTunes for me. Angela is away on holiday and mentioned that she’d watched The Third Man last night: call me daft, but I want to watch it with her, so to speak. So I rented it off iTunes and will watch it in a mo.

This one piece of metal, glass and plastic has been how I’ve run my business for this trip. It’s how I’ve kept in touch with people. Perhaps madly, it’s how I’ve been arranging drama meetings back in London. And it’s been entertainment. I’ve read books, I’ve read scripts, I’ve watched many TV episodes, I’ve watched a film or two and I’ve listened to music a lot.

This would be an ad for iPads except for one thing.

As I write this, it’s Tuesday evening Eastern Standard Time and a new iPad will be announced tomorrow. Plainly, I’m not writing on that new iPad tonight but I’m also not writing on the previous one, the iPad 2.

This is the same iPad I bought right back in June 2010. I’ve sat with friends who have iPad 2s and those are clearly enormously faster. I know that business with Safari pages and Numbers spreadsheets closing does not happen with iPad 2. And the iPad 2 does have cameras to let you use FaceTime. No question, iPad 2 is very good. One presumes iPad 3 is going to be better still, though search me how.

But I’ve no reason to buy it. Except fancying it, obviously. As much as I’ve grown accustomed to having my original iPad with me everywhere, this trip has made me appreciate it even more.

Mind you, if you fancied buying an original, nay, classic iPad… one careful if very constant user… You’d have to tear it out of my hands but I’d throw in the original box on my way to the Apple Store…

Very quickly: any chance you’re around London tomorrow? I’m going to be signing autographs at Big Finish Day 2 in Barking. The full details are yours for just a tap of a finger or a click of a mouse.

You start easy at first. It’s just a bit of fun. You’ve got your iPhone with you, there’s nothing bad about writing a little note that you need to buy bread on the way home.

But then you get that high when your iPhone spots that you’ve left the office and it bleeps to remind you about the loaf.

Suddenly, you get home and you’ve got bread. Instead of a niggling feeling that you’ve forgotten something, you’ve got the makings of a sandwich.

I know, it’s crazy.

Only, tomorrow you need more. You need to remember your mother’s birthday.

Then you’re at work and it’s just that little bit easier to make some To Dos than to keep going back to your email to see what you have to do next. It’s sensible and it’s also free. Apple’s own Reminders app, it’s right there, it’s free, it does that trick with popping up when you leave or arrive places.

It’s nothing, you’re just doing this to be sociable. You can stop any time you want.

But Wunderlist comes next. Just a bit more power to your elbow. Lets you break down big tasks into bits, into smaller tasks. There are myriad To Do apps on iPhone and Wunderlist is deservedly very popular. I’ve never used it.

I used to get my kicks from Appigo Todo instead. Loved that app. Lived in that app. The iPhone one now costs £2.99 but you also want the iPad one. That’s £2.99 too. And you should have the Mac one too. That’s another £10.49.

Soon you’re dividing your To Do list into categories. Stuff for work, stuff for home. A shopping list. Repeating tasks; those things you have to do every day like “Ignore new year’s resolution”.

It all makes sense.

It’s only the next bit that gets tricky.

Back about five months ago, I was an Appigo Todo evangelist. Today, I’m not. In between there was a little curiosity about something else, then a bit of a plunge-taking, then a lot, a lot and three times a lot of annoyance, anger and rage. The annoyance was that I’d bought something fairly expensive: I think now it’s cheap but it’s only that when you know it is what you need. When you think you’ve wasted your money, it’s a lot of cash.

The anger came from it not doing what I needed it to do. This more-expensive, much more highly recommended, ostensibly much, much, much more powerful piece of software could not do things that my Appigo Todo could.

And then the rage.

The rage because as annoying as this new software was, there were bits in it so good that it was too late. So good that I bought another version. And then a third. I hated all three versions of this new one but I could never go back to Appigo.

But ask me today, and it’s completely different: it feels now as if I bought the new software in Damascus.

I even have evenings off. Sometimes, anyway.

Because I’ve switched to using OmniFocus.

If you don’t use this yourself, the quick way to describe it is to say that it’s a To Do list. If you do use it, you are right now emailing me to say come on, that’s like saying XXXXXX is a football team or YYYYYY is a car when really ZZZZZZZZZZ. (Hey, it’s your email, you do the metaphor.)

There is one version that is difficult to use, that I mean you look at it and wonder where in the world you even start. But the real difficulty and the reason you tend to break through it and abruptly find this all incredibly useful, is more a conceptual thing.

Todo was a To Do list. OmniFocus is more a list of things that Can Be Done.

Follow.

If I get a job or think of something I have to do, it used to go in my Todo list and sit there until it was done, with this enormous growing pile of things. I used to find it very satisfying when I could get the number of tasks down from some giant number to some less-giant number.

Now, I’ll do the same with OmniFocus in that I’ll chuck anything from the smallest need for a loaf to a book commission into it. But the difference is that later I’ll check through those new ones and start working on them. That’s for the British Film Institute, that’s for Radio Times, this is for when I get around to it, this is if I can be bothered. But the BFI thing might not be due for a month and I probably can’t start it until next week. So, whack, start next Thursday, finish a week on Friday, I don’t have to think about it again.

It takes longer to describe this to you than to do it.

And the result is that I can look at my OmniFocus list and, if I want to, see only what I need to do today. If I’m in London, it’s typically for Radio Times but this week I’ve got a BBC Radio 4 meeting there so I can also see tasks by location: I can look to see what else I can get done while I’m there. Or types. I’ve got ten minutes before my train, I can immediately see what emails or phone calls I need to get done while I wait.

So you see, it is Tasks You Can Get Done Now more than it is Tasks To Do. Take a look at the difference:

I took that screen grab just before I stopped running OmniFocus and Todo in parallel. So it was for the same day, with the same lists of tasks to do. With Appigo’s Todo – which I’m not knocking, I liked it a great deal until I found OmniFocus suited me better – I obviously didn’t have to do all 30 that day, but I had to keep going into it to see what I could do now, what I could postpone. With OmniFocus, though I was getting through the same amount of work, one glance told me that yes, I could knock off for the night.

I thought that having tasks only show up when it was time to do them would mean I would forget them and would be forever behind but somehow it means the opposite. I know I’ll get to them, I know I’m making better use of my time overall. And there are many ways in which OmniFocus shows you what’s coming up, so that you can usefully tell when you can and can’t take on anything else. This is my favourite: the Forecast view in OmniFocus for iPhone:

Things that I have to do at the top, tasks I need to get started in the middle, and below that a quick calendar of the day. There’s more up above and down below.

There’s also a way to see only the tasks to do with, say, my book. So this coming Thursday, for instance, I can see I’ve only got one thing that truly has to be done then so I can take on more. In fact, I’m probably spending Thursday on my book for that very reason – and come Thursday, I’ll have OmniFocus just show me the tasks I need to do for that one project.

I think this all sounds like a lot of work and that was part of the reason I found OmniFocus annoying at first. Felt like I had too much to think about, that I could spend longer playing with this than in getting the work done. Yet in practice, it all just flows so easily – especially on the iPhone and iPad versions – that I spend much less time than I used to thinking about whether I’ve got everything covered.

The location reminders don’t work as well for me as they should (and OmniFocus Support can’t fathom out why) and I’d like the Mac version to be as slick as the iPad one or at least just a bit more slick. But I love how when I get an email on my Mac that I’ll need to reply to later, I can tap a couple of keys and it’s in OmniFocus as a task with what it’s about and a link to that email.

I also love that I jot down something on my iPhone and know that it’ll be on my iPad and my Mac the next time I look.

So I’m a convert. Join me. Come to the dark side. But only tell me about it after you’ve got through the bad bits and are a fan too.

Just so you know, there are three versions of OmniFocus and you don’t need all of them but you will end up buying the lot. OmniFocus for iPad (£27.99) is the best, OmniFocus for iPhone (£13.99) is the handiest, OmniFocus for Mac (£54.99) is the toughest to use. There’s no PC version.

It’s 18:00 on October 31, 2011 and as of this moment, I no longer work at all for the BBC. Slightly strangely, I haven’t left the Corporation – the BBC has left me.

There’s this guy. He thinks I’m a computer geek and I can’t change his mind about it. Normally you’d give up trying, you’d soon shrug but it did start to matter a little bit when he kept consulting me on anti-virus software he was thinking of buying.

“Have you read the back of the box?” I asked him. “Then you know more than I do.”

It seems he thought I was being nice and encouraging, that I was praising his expertise. I know that he actually doesn’t comprehend that I can have not the faintest idea about computer viruses. This is not a conceivable thing for him and he chuckles sometimes like he knows I’m trying to make a joke and he wants to be polite.

I used to work in computing, did I tell you that? Studied the things for a bit, managed to get out and onto computer magazines. I was always a magazine man more than a computer one, more of a drama nut than anything else. More into people than wires.

But you do learn a thing or two and it is surprising what still lurks in the back of my head so when he told me his several new computers were having trouble connecting to the internet and asked me to take a look, I did. How long could it take?

Five hours.

And I failed.

I don’t feel very awful about failing to get these PCs online because Dell didn’t manage it either. Some support expert from across the world dialled into the PCs and couldn’t fix them. (How? How can you dial in, connect remotely, but not have fixed the internet? Mysteries. Alchemy.)

What I most remember about that day, though, was sitting there in front of each PC in turn, entirely failing to get them to recognise that there is such a thing as wifi – while I looked up technical advice online through my MacBook. Plopped myself down by the PC, opened the MacBook, told it which wifi network I wanted, was online before I’d really finished opening the lid.

Those PCs never worked reliably with the internet, not over wifi.

And as time ticked by, this guy replaced them all.

Now, on the one hand, I’m still using my Mac from a couple of years before he bought these PCs, but I think the issue is not how fast PCs wear out but how this fella bought three more PCs of the same type.

I did mention Macs.

Quite a bit.

He argues, though, that Macs are expensive and they don’t do anything you can’t do with PCs.

His new PCs had the same problem.

I’m missing an episode now because at some point something did happen to get them online eventually. But the next time I am involved, it’s to set up a couple of laptops.

Two identical Windows laptops, bought from the same shop, bought in the same week.

One of them couldn’t play the sound off DVDs.

The speakers are fine, it could play anything else. But not DVDs.

I downloaded drivers, I changed settings, to be frank I was stabbing wildly at any option presented to me and nodding sagely whenever asked “Is it done yet?”. Eventually, I found a really clever workaround. I can’t remember what it was now, but I was actually proud of myself: I’d thought my way around and over a problem. Immensely satisfying.

For about a minute.

This is what computing is to this guy. A pain. A pain where two identical Windows computers don’t work the same and in fact don’t work.

He doesn’t think I’m a geek because I once studied computers, he thinks it because I spend all day at one and in the evening turn to another. Choosing to put yourself through that, to voluntarily keep going back to a computer, that equals geek.

The difference is that I use Macs. You know this already, you know this is where I’m going with all this. And you know why I’m saying it today. But actually, I want to argue that the difference is that I don’t use computers.

I don’t get up in the morning and think ooh, I can boot up my computer now. I don’t think I’ve got five minutes, I can spend more time at my computer.

Instead, what I’m doing is turning to the book I’m writing. I’m turning to the film I started watching on the train yesterday. I’m reading the news. I’m editing video, cutting audio, photo editing, laying out pages, I’m interviewing people, I’m transcribing audio, I’m listening to the radio, I’m watching TV. I’m doing a lot of work here in the UK and I’m doing some in the States, from that same Mac.

It all goes through my Mac, yes. But it also all goes through my MacBook, my iPad, my iPhone.

It goes through me.

I reach for the work and for the fun, I don’t reach for a computer to geek out over and I never have to.

I have had people ask me to recommend a phone and when I’ve said iPhone, they’ve tutted. Typical, they say. It would be Apple. Nobody needs that stuff and I bet they never use any of that fancy stuff, they can’t, they can’t understand it, it’s rubbish. You’re an Apple fanboy: it’s all style, you’re buying into the Apple hype when I’m being real, you’re a fashion victim and I know the truth that this ten quid Nokia phone and twenty quid PC are far, far better.

“So why’d you want me to recommend a new phone then?” I asked.

I know that I’m not won over by hype. Microsoft hypes a lot more but I don’t get interested in their stuff, probably because they’re better at the hype than at delivering the product. Microsoft hypes away about what they’re releasing next year. Apple hypes away about what they’re bringing out today.

But I did wonder about me when I found I was waiting to hear Apple’s news this week about the next iPhone. So, for pure curiosity, I kept an eye on how often I used my iPhone.

You know it’s going to be a big figure. I knew it would be. Several dozen times, easy.

It was 230.

Exactly 230 times in one normal day, including six phone calls but not including how ever often it was that I used to look at it to see the time.

Apple kit is woven into my life. Maybe it is in yours, maybe it isn’t, I’m not here to tell you anything but how I roll.

Apple is more than one man. But Steve Jobs made a dramatic difference in how I live and we have lost someone remarkable today.

I know I can’t have always wanted to visit the Strictly Come Dancing set because the show’s only been running for a few years. But it feels like I have because I’ve wanted it that much.

I came close once: Angela got to go to a live show and I drove her and Lesley, a friend, to London, spent the evening kicking my heels, giving a lift to some tourists who’d come to the wrong hotel, crashed my car, wrote it off, got a hire car and drove Angela and Lesley home again.

Angela and I have different emotions about that night.

But today, it was going to happen. I was booked to go to Studio 1, BBC Television Centre for the first of two days filming the Radio Times photo shoot with all the dancers and their celebrity partners.

You’ll see who got who on Saturday night when the launch show is aired but it was recorded yesterday evening. (And you’re wondering, or at least I’ve always wondered, but no, nobody knows who they’re getting before the launch show.)

Last night, Studio 1 had the full ballroom set. Tess’s area. The judges’ table. The band pit.

This morning, nothing remained. Not a sequin, not a speck of glitter.

Instead, this huge studio was divided into four or five areas. I don’t know what each one was but Radio Times had one and there was a big green-screen portion where the title sequence was being filmed. That sequence we get very familiar with each year that shows the contestants and their professional partner swirling amid glitterballtastic sparkles.

I watched Rory Bremner and [redacted] film theirs. Was tickled by Anton’s stream of beaming good humour with [redacted].

And Strictly is all about fantasy, isn’t it? You think about what it would be like to take part. Allow me one little fantasy. Which goes thisaway:

I watched Katya and [redacted] filming their spot and she kept watching me. I’d pass her in the studio and she’d look me over. I know it was suspicion and that anyway I had a chocolate biscuit stain on my shirt, but you could believe that she fancied me.

Okay, you couldn’t. But I could.

Okay, I can’t either.

I’m using the new Google Blogger app on my iPhone: this button here is either Delete And Don’t Make a Fool of Yourself William or it’s Publish.

May there be a God and when he’s done sorting everything else out, may this God take a minute to forgive me: I’m being organised and it’s working. I want to tell you about it and I’m not sure whether it’s to get it off my chest, whether it’s ask you to glare at me until I stop being lazy, or whether I’m hoping to groom you into joining this Organisation.

I honestly hate this in me. I used to enjoy writing in the middle of the night, writing an inch before the deadline, writing 50 pages in day when absolutely necessary. I used to just enjoy the night: going to bed before 1am feels sinfully wrong. It’s a good way to work, it conjures up the kind of sound and furious action that I so relished in newsroom writing.

But it was always reacting to something, some deadline set by someone else. Things were getting done but not enough and not well enough and I would always be having ideas for projects I just couldn’t find the time to do. I would forever be busy and I mean forever: there was never, not ever a point when I’d be able to say I was done for the day. I enjoyed that, I still enjoy it now, but sheer harsh, cold self-examination is never kind. Last year was very successful for me but it is easy to see that it should’ve been much more so: perhaps not in terms of what writing I got produced, perhaps not financially, but in terms of me and what I was able to create.

So.

January the 1st was 196 days ago.

I know this because for every one of those 196 days I’ve written for at least an hour. If the day was spent writing on Radio Times or Doctor Who, for example, I still wrote something else for an hour afterwards.

That’s all. Not a big deal, not really worth shouting about, but…

Because of this unbroken pattern, since the start of the year I have – wait, I haven’t worked this out yet and it may depress me; grief, I hope it’s a lot of work… okay… well… it’s not bad. Since 1 January I’ve written a four-part Doctor Who audio (recorded the other week, due out some time next year), half a new stage play that I abandoned on account of it being rubbish, a half-hour film, a one-hour film, a 15-minute sitcom, a one-hour telly spec. I also wrote 90,000 words of a novel but threw away 40,000 before sending it to Paul the Agent Guy.

Plus I’m only about 2,000 words into my book but I’m running the research for it in a rinkydinky FileMaker Pro database of mine and currently I figure I must’ve written about 10,000 of the words in that. I suppose I also wrote and shot a couple of How To videos for friends – I’m easier to bear when you can pause or fastwind me – and probably made about eight or ten pitches to people.

I can’t work out how many pages or words I’ve revised on top of this but I know, for instance, that I began the year with a substantial rewrite of a stage play which is now with a producer who’s raising cash to stage it. At a rough guess, I’ve at least revised 300 pages of my own scripts. And if you tell me that I’ve read fewer than 2,000 pages of other people’s scripts, I’ll believe you but want to see your working out.

I don’t know.

Doesn’t matter, really. A lot or a little, worthwhile or rubbish, all that’s important is that it is geometrically more than I wrote last year or the year before. And more of it is out there getting produced or commissioned than before, too.

If I decide that this is a lot of writing, then it sounds like I’m saying quantity is key.

I think I’m saying quantity is key.

Since I cannot dare speak to the quality, I can at least look at how there’s that abandoned stage play, for instance: last year I might’ve had the idea but not got around to it. Now I’ve tried it, I know it doesn’t work, it’s gone.

And this one-hour-per-day minimum is brilliant and exciting and satisfying when you’re in the middle of a script and you know you can’t wait for the next unbroken hour on that project. It’s still pretty brilliant when you know what bit you have to do in that hour and you’re afraid of it. It’s hard when it’s already 1am and you have’t started.

But it’s only actually awful when you’re between projects and have not the faintest idea what to do but you won’t cheat.

I call those Forced Hours. An hour where at the start you have zero in your head but you’re going to bloody well sit there and work until you’ve got something. I’ve had about four of these in the 196 days so far and each time I’ve ended up with a new idea. Last year I had the problem that I never got around to ideas, now I’m trying to get through them quickly so that I can get to the next ones I’ve now got waiting. I have a queue. Can’t believe it. A queue.

I can cope with this level of organisation. There’s a line in Carl Sagan’s Contact that Angela and I often quote to one another: “Small moves, Ellie”. Doing a little bit often appears to work for me and I’m okay with that. I can feel a drama precedent in it, so long as I don’t examine it too closely. So long as I don’t, for instance, blog about it.

Anyway, there’s a problem. By May I was aware that I hadn’t yet skipped a day and it didn’t look like I was going to. So I added to it. Can’t tell you what, but as well as this hour writing I added a mandatory daily half-hour on this other thing. Then in June I was commissioned to write a book and it was one that would take a lot of research work, so I added again: half an hour every day on the book too.

These two half hours are not enough for their particular jobs but guaranteeing to do them means I start them and almost always burst the measure, spend longer than the thirty minutes. Same with the hour’s writing.

But setting a limit and being able to see that it is working over time, it means there have been five nights this year when I honestly felt I was done for the evening and could relax.

That was horrible.

So that’s a problem I haven’t solved yet.

Also, I used to live in my Todo list, constantly chewing over deadlines and pitches, yet I’d only glance at my calendar when my days at Radio Times changed around. Now for some reason the work I’m doing takes a lot longer and means me blocking out times to do this, periods to be here, days I must be elsewhere. I spend ages dragging appointment blocks around my week’s calendar like I’m playing Slow Tetris.

Suddenly I’m really good at estimating how long a job will take. I can tell you what time I’ll finish today. I can clear a hole in the week and know by when I’ll have made up that time or that work.

Except the hour per day. That’s inviolate. Sacrosanct.

And of course I recommend it or I wouldn’t be bending your ear about this madness. Only, if you do this, if you do find that it works for you, promise me you won’t start your day’s two hours at 1am. I have fallen asleep while writing my hour that late at night; you look again in the morning and your very nightmares are on the page. You’ve written whole scenes, huge arguments, between characters you’ve never heard of about topics you don’t understand. It’s borderline psychotic and if it’s funny sometimes, there are other moments when it is profoundly, frighteningly disturbing.

So, you know, there are some wrinkles in this plan.

But I’ll work them out.

Probably an hour at a time.

William

Listen, I’ve no clue how to start this but I’m burning to tell you so can you just grab a biscuit and we’ll crack on? Last Saturday I was at the Big Finish Day in Barking and I was signing autographs.

Maybe you should get two biscuits.

Plainly, I was not alone on that day and I’m far from the first person to squiggle on papers and if you know Big Finish, you know this was Doctor Who. And you certainly know just as well as I do that Doctor Who somehow comes with a magnifying glass: I was included there because of the way the lens of Doctor Who burns into so many of us.

There were some 60 people signing and I don’t know how many guests: a few hundred through the day? I’m rubbish at estimating anything. But I did have a quick gander through the guest list and without question I had done the least of them all: so far I’ve only had one 25-minute Doctor Who audio episode made. It turned out to be popular, but it’s still only a one-off 25-minuter. I’ve got a four-parter coming out next year so hopefully if I get to go to the next one I’ll feel less of a fraud.

But as frauds go, I am struggling to remember a day when I had more fun. It is a hell of a boost having people asking you autograph your writing, it’s even more of one when they’ve come seeking you out. I was happy just being one more person on a table that people worked their way along. To be asked if I’m the William Gallagher they’re looking for and having to answer that no, I’m not the man who wrote Lark Rise to Candleford or used to play in Oasis, is a treat.

More than that, it’s a delight and I won’t pretend it isn’t.

But if you knew me in my podcast, you’ll know what I really liked, what made this a stand-out day for me: I got to natter to people. Oodles of people. Every body up and interesting and enjoying themselves. I was going to say that equally included fans as well as other writers, but there’s not a lot of difference: in breaks I’d nip into other autograph sessions and be a fan myself.

So many struggles in my head, though: from why would anyone want my autograph – I’m not kidding, I don’t understand autographs at all, let alone mine – to why I might think you’d want to know about it. I don’t. But I’m having such a bubbly time I had to tell you.

So. Spill. What’s happening with you? I want details.

William

Wait, that doesn’t work, does it? What’s everybody else supposed to do while I hold them up?

I feel like I’m the last one to the party here but also a wee bit chastened: I’ve been so busy – heavy, dramatic sigh, bring on the gypsy violinist – that I’ve not caught up with Danny Stack’s Liquid Lunch series. I look back at what I’ve been so heavily, dramatically, sighingly, violinistly busy on and can’t quite see anything. And in the meantime, he’s got three episodes out along with backstage videos and the scripts.

Consequently all I’m really doing here is getting in your way when you want to go watch Liquid Lunch. Tell you what, you head for the site that is Liquid Lunch and I’ll get the drinks in.

What’re you having?
William