Another week, another interview to prepare for. The secrecy of the commissioning process means I have to be cagey. Sorry. As if anyone will read my fledgling blog, then set up a rival interview with the same people to spike mine. But you cannot be too careful. I’m interviewing a group of showbiz icons – it will have to be as vague as that. Two days trawling the net in search of cuttings has left be foggey eyed. Now I’ve got to pack a bag. The interview is in New York. It’s all very exciting, high-end glamour, you know. Naturally, I’m going out up front on BA to test out the flat bed, then staying at the Drake to rest a bit before working…
…well, of course I’m not. I’ve never heard of the hotel I’m booked into and the flight is on Air India. I have an open mind. I’ve never flown with them, so it might be amazing. But, deep down, I already know that the up-grade blag is more crucial than ever. Two other things are also on my mind: I never eat garlic, or curries before interviews. And I have tooth ache that ascended to Amber alert over the weekend. It could be on Red by the time I arrive. So, ahead of me I have eight hours in mule class on the Jalfrezi Jet to hole up in Harlem somewhere. Then I get to eat mints and whack up on pain killers, to then have precisely one hour to get stories out of four weary celebrity legends. To then get back on the plane. Rock n roll.