In which I fail to get on Norwegian TV
Walking home at top speed (because it is cold, and I am cold) a bearded chap with a sensible hat and a camera on a tripod (Canon, expensive) stops me. Do I have time, he says, to answer a few questions for Norwegian TV? I am an obliging sort so I say yes. Ask chap where he is from – Oslo. I know Oslo. Make swift mental note that have been to Oslo sculpture park, which is the only Oslo fact a brain fresh from dealing with proofreading since 0700 can come up with. Who knows whether or not this little nugget of experience might come in handy? Make further mental scramble to work out what Norwegian TV might be asking about if it's not the sculpture park, and while he is fiddling with camera and we are both avoiding someone intent on running down anyone in their way with their mobility scooter, plump for EU and our forthcoming referendum and marshal what I hope will be sparkling British opinions, fresh from the East Midlands, on my view on the EU. (Stay in, if you’re intereste...