The Baillie Bugle

I went to New York for about ten days the year before last (just before 9-11, but that's another story) with my buddy Andy. Our mutual friend Melissa was staying out there, working for the same bank as myself at the time. They'd put her up in a fantastic apartment about 100 yards from Times Square.
Needless to say we had a great time.

One of the things I really loved about it was that if you saw a TV crew outside the apartment you could go upstairs and flick channels, and more often than not you'd see them on the TV.
Right there and then.

It felt like we were in the centre of the universe, and everyone was watching us.
(Unlike Big Brother, which seems to be suffering from exactly the opposite)

That's the first thing I loved about London. All the places you see in the news - all the movie premiers, all the streets that the coppers run down in The Bill, all the places mentioned in songs - are all local when you live in London. Just down the road.
Growing up in Scotland it all seemed so far away. I felt like all the stuff happening on TV, and in the papers was happening in another world.
Now I know it's not. It's just the real world.

There was a really small picture on the BBC news website of the Hulk effigy above the cinema entrance for the premier last week, far too small to see. I was curious what it looked like, but instead of trying to blow up the picture and strain my eyes unfuzzing it, I just popped down to Leicester Square at the weekend when I was in the area.

I really love that.