Neil Gaiman's Journal

Slept for a long time. No longer evilly sick, just sort of gluey, as if dwarves had snuck in in the night and filled my lungs and nose and throat and head and chest and ears and mind with one of those thick sort of glues you'd get as a kid by mixing an epoxy and a resin, that never actually set.

I did the Phill Jupitus show on Radio 6 this morning, gluey voice and lungs and head and all. The BBC car dropped me off in the wrong BBC lobby and I sat there until the show's producer found me, having eventually called the car company to discover whether they'd picked me up, and exactly where they'd left me. She looked extremely relieved. So I was on for rather less time than they'd hoped...

Still, enjoyed doing the radio show: I've been doing radio shows hosted by Phill for almost a decade now: he's very good at making you forget that anyone's listening but him -- it's just a comfy space within which you sort of babble for a bit. Also, in my case, wheeze, cough, and make some interesting lung-bubbling noises.

The other thing I like about Phill is that he lets the guests pick music, so I asked for some Thea Gilmore.