by antiaristo » Sun Feb 26, 2006 11:05 am
Well, I DID say the Observer was a shadow of its former self...<br><br><!--EZCODE QUOTE START--><blockquote><strong><em>Quote:</em></strong><hr><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="font-size:small;">My week: Jeffrey Archer</span><!--EZCODE FONT END--> <br><br>He is invited to go on Richard and Judy, becomes a patron of the world's oldest debating society and discusses a major film deal over lunch. But a very scary date is lurking in his diary <br><br>Jeffrey Archer<br>Sunday February 26, 2006<br>The Observer <br><br><br>I was shocked to discover, quite recently, that my eldest son, William, 33, was under the illusion that the first day of the week was Monday. I therefore intend to start this column with what I consider to be the first day of the week - Sunday.<br>On Sunday morning, I run for four miles through the country lanes of Grantchester very slowly - 36 minutes, 12 seconds - before returning to have breakfast with my wife at the Old Vicarage and read the papers.<br><br>Mary tells me she wants us to visit a reclamation and salvage yard, as she's spotted a small, Japanese-style, wrought-iron bridge that's for sale. The bridge would span the river at the end of our garden and allow us to be able to join up with our little island in the Cam.<br><br>By a coincidence that would not be acceptable in a novel, the bridge turns out to be the perfect length, with six inches to spare both ends. Mary later goes into Addenbrooke's (Cambridge University Hospitals NHS Foundation Trust), where she is chairman, to pick up some papers she will need for a meeting at St Thomas' Hospital in London tomorrow. In the 40 years we've been married, I have never known her enjoy a job more.<br><br>On Sunday afternoon, we drive back to our flat in Lambeth. In the evening, William and I go to the cinema to see the Oscar-nominated film, Good Night, and Good Luck, a black-and-white movie about an era that I can almost remember. One of the best films I've seen for a long time.<br><br>On Monday, I start the day with a session in the gym; I'm looking forward to my trainer, Dani, returning from holiday, as she pushes me far harder than I seem to be able to manage.<br><br>At one o'clock, I meet up with my agent, Jonathan Lloyd, at a little Italian restaurant in Charlotte Street. After lunch, we go on to my publishers, Macmillan, to discuss the launch of my latest novel, False Impression. They tell me that they've had requests for me to do everything from Celebrity Big Brother to the Today programme. We settle for Andrew Marr and Richard and Judy.<br><br>In the evening, Mary and I go to the National Theatre to see Once in a Lifetime. David Suchet is quite magnificent, but then I've never known him give a bad performance in 20 years.<br><br>On Tuesday, Mary and I are up early; Mary for her meeting at St Thomas', while I'm off to the City Airport for an early flight to Dublin. I have been invited to address the Philosophical Society of Trinity College. It claims to be the world's oldest debating society in existence (1684) and scoffs at the precocious youth of Oxford and Cambridge<br><br>The audience gives me a warm welcome, before I'm invested as an honorary patron of the society. After my speech, I am asked more questions about life in prison than writing or politics. I arrive home late that night (plane delayed) to discover that Mary is still in her study, going over the latest batch of emails from Addenbrooke's.<br><br>There are two highlights on Wednesday. Lunch at the Caprice with a lawyer from the Weinstein Company. Harvey Weinstein (Oscar-winning film producer) is showing some interest in a screenplay I've written about George Mallory, the extraordinary mountaineer, who may have conquered Everest in 1924; he was last seen 800 feet from the summit, still going up. The lawyer assures me that Mr Weinstein will be in touch, but I'm not holding my breath.<br><br>In the evening, art dealer Chris Beetles and I go to the opening of the Cartoon Museum on Little Russell Street. This is the culmination of the efforts and determination of several people who, for the past two decades, have wanted to open a museum dedicated to the genius of our cartoonists over the centuries.<br><br>I have been collecting political cartoons for the past 20 years, so I was particularly fascinated to see this exhibition. I thought the Beerbohm was exceptional, and of the modern artists, Steve Bell and The Observer's Chris Riddell caught the eye.<br><br>However, the sight of the Right Honourable Lord Baker of Dorking CH selling raffle tickets brought back many happy memories of my days with the Conservative party (is there any other nation on earth that would resort to raising money this way?).<br><br>The greatest shock of the evening came when a young journalist from the Daily Telegraph began quizzing me about my collection. I told him of my fruitless search for a Giles of 'Granny'. 'I've never heard of Giles,' he said. I must be getting old.<br><br>On Thursday I did a podcast interview, but not until my younger son, James, had explained to me what an iPod is.<br><br>Friday, yuk. The dentist. I may have shared a prison wing with 21 murderers, but when it comes to the dentist, I'm still a coward. He may only be capping one tooth, but I've been dreading it all week.<br><br>The Archer CV<br><br>The Life<br>Born London, 15 April 1940; grew up in Weston-super-Mare; met his wife, Mary, at Oxford. They live in Cambridgeshire and London. Made a life peer in 1992. Two sons, William (b.1972) and James (b.1974).<br><br>The Work<br>Archer entered the House of Commons after winning the Louth by-election in 1969. In danger of being declared bankrupt five years later, he resigned, but then made a fortune writing bestsellers. In 1985, he became deputy chairman of the Tory party. <!--EZCODE BOLD START--><strong><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="font-size:small;">He was investigated for insider dealing</span><!--EZCODE FONT END--></strong><!--EZCODE BOLD END--> and resigned when newspaper reports linked him to a prostitute. He went to prison in 2001 for perjury.<hr></blockquote><!--EZCODE QUOTE END--><br><br><!--EZCODE AUTOLINK START--><a href="http://politics.guardian.co.uk/conservatives/story/0,,1718202,00.html">politics.guardian.co.uk/c...02,00.html</a><!--EZCODE AUTOLINK END--><br><br>The insider dealing was in the shares of Anglia Television, my employer. While he was investigated, the report has been suppressed by Queen Elizabeth, using the Treason Felony Act.<br><br>You can read all about it here<br><!--EZCODE AUTOLINK START--><a href="http://p216.ezboard.com/frigorousintuitionfrm10.showMessageRange?topicID=2221.topic&start=1&stop=20">p216.ezboard.com/frigorou...=1&stop=20</a><!--EZCODE AUTOLINK END--><br><br>The linked prostitute was of course Monica Coghlan, murdered by Archer. Again, he was protected from investigation by Queen Elizabeth, using the Treason Felony Act.<br><br>Nice people, those Windsors.<br>Long to reign over us and all that.<br><br>See what I mean by a lockdown on the British media? <p></p><i></i>