Going to Gallifrey (literally).

I can finally announce that I will be writing the fourth and final episode of Big Finish Productions' latest Gallifrey series of audio dramas.  "Gallifrey" is a "Doctor Who" spin-off, and it's basically "The West Wing" with Timelords.  The series features three of my favorite classic companions: Romana (Lala Ward), the only Timelord ever to travel with the Doctor, and Leela (Louise Jameson), amazonian warrior of the Sevateem Tribe, as well as the one and only K-9, voiced by the one and only John Leeson.  Writing dialogue for characters I've loved for almost 30 years is a huge thrill for me, and I only hope I don't screw it up too badly!

Best sellers.

I just received an email from Foyles Bookstore (the place where we bought all those books when we were in London), and among the new-release announcements was a list of the chain's top ten bestselling books. At the top was that new Dan Brown thing, of course, but I was surprised to see the great Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities at number nine. Wow -- a 35-year-old structuralist postmodern meta-novel on a bestseller list in 2009! I love England.

There were some other good books in the bottom nine, which makes me wonder if Foyles' clientele is divided between people who read Dan Brown and people who read real books.

Of course, a more likely reason for a best-seller list crammed with good books is that nobody buys books anymore unless they're written by Dan Brown, and the titles that actually manage to sell a copy or two the rest of the week make up the rest of the list.

Fine Culture: My Part in its Downfall

Walking around London on our last day here, I couldn't help but notice the "Transformers" and "Star Trek" posters on virtually every bright red double-decker bus.



All that was needed was a new TMNT movie, and I'd have had a perfect hat-trick. It got me thinking about the influence I've had on culture, and my strange place in it. I have been involved in myth-making and character creation for some of the biggest pop-culture phenomena of the 20th century. Nobody knows who I am. But when they find out, they frequently start doing the "we're not worthy" bows. (Seriously. This has happened to me in places as desperate as the Electronic Arts office in L.A. and a subway in Tokyo.)

I never cared much for adulation or fame. But I'd kill for a way to monetize my influence! Suggestions welcome.

Where's that Doodle-Doo!?

Today we went walking in Hyde Park, through to the adjacent Kensington Gardens. We walked along the Serpentine and watched the ducks and swans, all of whom are extremely good at begging for food.






Kensington Gardens is home to the famous statue of Peter Pan. The park has many connections to Peter; J.M. Barrie lived across the street from the park, conceived his idea of a story for a boy who wouldn't grow up while walking through the park, and met the family who was the model for the Darlings here.


Our ultimate destination was this circus-tent-like theater, where a new production of Peter Pan is being staged, literally on the spot where it was conceived.




The production is a new version of the story, presented in the round, and the cone of the tent serves as a screen on which is projected a continuous 360-degree, 3D computer graphic backdrop.


The children are portrayed by young adults, which means we get a male Peter for a change. Ciaran Kellgren is great in the role, as is Jonathan Hyde as Hook.


Eschewing Disney glamour, Tinkerbell is played as a scruffy, semi-verbal urchin. (She does light up, though.)




All in all a memorable time, with an incredibly noisy audience, most of it under eight years old.

The dumbest thing we've done this week.

The other day we were out and about in London. We got caught up in the midst of the Palace Horse Guard for the second day in a row...


...And encountered the gayest cab in all of London.


We soon found ourselves on the fringe of the West End...and street after street of little antiquarian bookshops.




Hey, look! They have Tintin! And P.G. Wodehouse!




Evidently Daleks are bibliophiles. (This is an original 1960's prop.)


At last we could restrain ourselves no longer. Despite the fact that we're travelling with two heavy suitcases that are already overweight, we bought books. Loads and loads of lovely books. We discovered some fascinating fantasy/historical novels we'd never heard of before, and I discovered a new line from Penguin called Read Red. It's a series of classic adventure stories (Treasure Island, the Sherlock Holmes books, Verne, Burroughs, The 39 Steps, etc.) with fantastic retro Boy's-Own-Adventure style covers that look old but are in fact new designs. Well, you know about me and Penguins; I wound of getting every book in this series I could find -- even though I had older copies of several of them.

As soon as we got back to the room, Audry took pictures of our booty. (As always, click on each photo for a better view.)


The 5 books on the upper right are Penguin Read Reds. Check out the cover of Tarzan -- it's freaking awesome!


More Read Reds. And I've been meaning to read "Gone With the Wind" for years, so naturally I had to fly to England to buy a copy.


Audry got that fantastic retro-Penguin pencil set in the middle. To its left is an old school Penguin-themed notebook she got to use them with.


Needless to say we are REALLY looking forward to lugging these things back to the States.

I have a new favorite restaurant.

So Audry and I went to a church in London called St. Martins-in-the-Fields. I have been aware of this place for decades, as it is the home base of the Academy of St. Martins-in-the-Fields, my favorite chamber orchestra. (You've heard them. They played most of the music in "Amadeus.")

What I didn't know was that St. Martin's is in the heart of London, right next to Trafalgar Square. Because of its name, I had always pictured it as a pastoral church out in the English countryside somewhere. Audry pointed out that the church is so old that it probably was surrounded by verdant fields when it was first built!



Across the street is the National Gallery, Trafalgar Square, and Nelson's Column.





Ah, but inside St. Martin's lurks the best restaurant I've eaten at since we left home...inside, and underneath the church. It's called The Crypt because...well, that's what it is -- the church's former crypt.


In the Crypt you walk and dine among ancient gravestones.


And the food! Hot pork sandwiches with applesauce, pickles, and strong English mustard. Sounds hellish, tastes heavenly. Audry took this picture of her cheese-laden vegetarian dish and Victorian lemonade (real brewed lemonade, with alcoholic content):

The thin line between clever and stupid.

We're staying at the Cumberland, across from the Marble Arch at Hyde Park. It's an older hotel that has been ruthlessly modernized. The fine line between clever and stupid, which David St. Hubbins spoke of in "This is Spinal Tap," is razor-thin here, and I'm inclined to think the whole place falls on the far side of stupid.

The lobby lights are blue here, but they change color throughout the day. This morning when we came down they were bilious green.










The hallway outside our room.


Our bathroom. Looks nice, what with the glass sink and Philippe Starck fixtures and all, but the sink protrudes so much that you're almost a yard away from your reflection in the mirror (making shaving difficult, to say the least), and the design of the shower is such that you have to step inside to turn on the water, which inevitably results in getting sprayed with cold water.


Random lighting weirdness in the room. A couple of illuminated --what, golfing ads? -- on the wall...


...And a backlit chariot mural over the bed. (Actually, that one is pretty cool.)

London at last.

Later that day, we arrived in London, and had dinner with our dear friend Rob Shearman (writer of the superb Doctor Who episode, "Dalek.") Afterward, we went to a pub for a pint of nice, rich Badger Ale. Very good to be in London, with such good company.