Monday 7th and Tuesday 8th of February 2000

Slept badly. Nerves or jetlag? Probably both. Packed my bag and said goodbye to Theresa, David and Jane’s nanny. Caught the bus to Finchley Park, then the train to Piccadily Circus. People are looking at me strangely. Can they tell I’m Australian? I’m getting paranoid. I must be sleep deprived.

Follow Carolyn’s great directions to my hotel – very dodgy, but what do you expect for 59 quid in the middle of London? Roommate Jacki wasn’t there yet, so I paid, got a key, dumped my bag, wrote a note and went to get some food. I didn’t want to sit in an empty hotel room waiting for a knock on the door, but I couldn’t eat either. Nikki said it would be like this. I’d had so little sleep last night and my stomach was churning with nerves. I was mainly nervous about the night going well, for Richard’s sake and for the fact we’ve all made such an effort to get here. I wanted it to be everything we hoped. Turns out later it was 1000 times better, but I wasn’t to know that yet.

I’d broken my watch in Japan, so I was directed to a funny little man in a booth at Piccadilly station. He was so entertaining and distracted me enough that I think it was actually worth busting the damn thing. Returned to my hotel and saw three girls staring at me in the lobby. It’s that Australian thing again isn’t it? Oh wait, it’s Jacki, Nikki and Anne. Yay. We all troop upstairs yabbering. We talked and talked and talked excitedly about anything and everything, then all went out to find Nikki some Burger King and Jacki some money. Some gay activists had hijacked a double decker and were painting it pink! The expression “It’s like Piccadilly Circus” suddenly took on a crystal clear meaning for me. I’ve never seen so many cars or people in my life. We fought our way to the Criterion to check tomorrows menu, then back to the hotel to change. Jacki was so lovely, we got on so well. We both tarted up, collected Nikki and Anne, then off to Oscars Bar, late of course! Found 3 American carrots, plus Polly and Di. All yabbered and shivered, until the married carrots, Irish carrot and Trac appeared. So weird to finally see the personalities and faces that belong to their email addresses. They’re all human and wonderful…I’m relieved. All present and accounted for!

Downed a few extortionately priced bourbons then we all group round the corner to where papparazzi and building crowds are fenced off. Rows and rows of the “have-nots” glaring at us “haves”. Flashed our tickets at the gorillas and we’re in. Lots of scanning for famous faces. Endless streams of people I recognised, madly trying to identify them. Lots of British celebs I didn’t know. Ushered upstairs by more gorillas, shuffled around, Posh and hubby caused the most stir, though I’m sure the Withnailians arriving in their flash cars would have been screamed at too. Saw it later on TV anyway.

Collected free goodie bags, bought catalogues, ate free Haagan Daas, drank free booze, then into the cinema. Good moods all rounds, starting to bond as a group. Took up positions, row D, fourth row central. Loving it! Turned round at one point to see Alex from Blur was sitting behind me. Almost wet myself. Posh and Baby were taking their seats, but big deal ’cause Richard Griffiths had just sat down and autograph hunters started to quietly flock. I spy Bruce Robinson behind him, heart in my mouth I wrestle with my courage and my books. Wiggled up the aisle, flashed a mega-watt smile and he was happy to scribble for me. Told him Thomas Penman just HAD to be made into a film and he beamed at me and wrote lovely things in my copy. On cloud nine. He fucked off after the show with toothache and ne’er another scribble for the mortals, so counting my stars lucky!

Dicky Griffiths was next, two John Hancocks before the flick even started – not bad going girlie. He’s such a large man. Forgot to ask to touch the hand that had touched the god that is Tim Burton…probably just as well! The auction items were on stage to peruse. I touched Withnails’ coat and felt a tingle. The same tingle I got when I touched a piece of rock from the Berlin Wall. An inanimate object imbued with great emotion – it positively vibrated with energy. I turned and made row D stand for a photo. Hope it comes out. As more people sat, we all turned in our seats to wait for the arrival of REG. The galaxy of stars taking their seats served only as obstructions to the one we were all here to see. When the tall silhouette appeared up the back, the whole row gave each other thumbs up and meaningful nods and winks. Some nobs behind us kept asking what the carrots were for and wondered if we were vegetarians.

Di, Jacki and Anne’s reaction, when asked if they’re hoping to see REG’s carrot tonight.

Even the irate lesbians had REG’s carrots on their mind.

The papparazzi – hoping to get the scoop on this amazing carrot phenomenon.

Posh is asked if she’d like a carrot, but apparently she’s already got one. David looks a little confused.

Wot a lurverly bunch of carrots! We’ve got plenty of carrots here! Row D minus Dominique the photographer, who sat in between Jacki and Neil.

NOTE: Click on the image for a bigger view

I’d bought a measley 100 quid with me to bid for the hip flask, but knew I had no chance when I looked in the delicious Christies catalogue. We all agreed to bid for item number 8 instead, 19 polaroids, all signed. That way, if we pooled our money, we’d have more chance of competing in the cash arena, as well as ending up with one each. A pooled figure of 360 pounds was agreed on and I was appointed bidder. Gulp. We settled back to watch the show and enjoy.

Lights dim and an incredibly tall spring bounded on stage with “that” smile, and the place went wild. REG swore at us to break the ice and with shaking hands, read the list of hellos, welcomes and thank yous. I sank into my seat as I realised I’d be on it. As he said “Dominique Falla and the REGiment” – our row cheered, I stood and span, saw Posh Spice looking at me, thought “What the fuck am I doing?” and sat down pronto. REG said something about coming all the way from Australia and how shy and retiring we obviously were. Quite!

Movie starts and I slump into my seat trying red-faced to grapple with the embarrassment of what I’d just done, but knowing I’d kill myself later if I hadn’t done it. I could feel Jacki’s eyes on me as she tried to reconcile this outrageous behaviour with the nervous ninnie she’d met 5 hours earlier. The movie was fab. Quotes, cheers and general hilarity. Snuck to the loo once during the film, caught Bruce Robinson positively beaming at how well his flick was going down. His smile was hung from ear to ear. Saw Mr Posh posing in the lobby…said hello and how’d you do. He’s cute but not the sharpest tool in the shed. Meet Mrs Posh in the loo, she’s a lot sharper. Bump someone’s shoulder and realise it’s Baby spice as they all leave. So this is how mega stars are always seen by millions arriving, but only four people see them leaving. Asked my reflection if she could believe any of this was actually happening.

Movie ends. Major face ache from laughing. Chairs are produced, stars appear on the stage and sit. REG, the good natured ring leader cajoling people to the stage, each demanding their own entrance and audience reaction as he calls out “Are you there? Come on down”. Presuming Ed laughs his Barry White laugh to my right, “Get in the back of the van” is here, reluctant, but loving it. Bruce is whooped to the stage. Only Paul McGann seems to appear quietly. No fuss. So small and slight. Radiant. The females are audibly impressed. Richard Griffiths is last to appear from the toilets, and fills the stage with his physical prescence. REG fills it with sheer energy.

The man from Christies is very entertaining. Bids are made, we “ohh” and “aah” at the prices. Rich famous British gits I’ve never heard of bid small houses for coats and posters. Our lot was fast and furious and sky rockets past 360 quid in a heartbeat. I turn to our gang and look for guidance. Nikki tells me to keep going. It gets to 490 and I stand and plead with our competitor. He shows me an evil grin and bids 500. REG is gobsmacked and looks full of sympathy at me. The wonderful man from Christies complains he’s losing his hearing and that the next bid is the last. I gasp 510 and it’s ours! Gulp. Pandemonium ensues. I miss the entire middle of the auction as 13 people scrabble around in their wallets and shower 20 pound notes over me. The Christies woman is standing in the aisle with a bright red Christies bag waiting for her cash. Thank god for everyone else. Someone collected the money, somone else divided it by 13, someone added the notes whilst I prayed we’d have enough and wrote it all down. 510. Got it! Paid. Bag handed. Stunned silence. We’d done it!

What had we done!!!

Polly and Anastasia, awaiting the other carrots.

REG realises he can’t remember where he put his carrot.

The man from Christies thinks someone over here has it.

In blatant violation of Christies’ copyright order I reproduce our luverlies for you to ogle.

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