Diary – 3 February 2007

There are a few fantasy gigs around, those jobs which we minor celebrities know deep down that we’re never going to be offered, but which we prepare for anyway, just in case. Appearing on Desert Island Discs, hosting Have I Got News For You, playing James Bond in the movies, writing the Spectator Diary. All right, perhaps writing the Spectator Diary is not quite up there with playing James Bond, but it is something of an honour. I have always had a fear, though, that I would be asked to write a diary piece when I was doing absolutely sod-all. People will happily read about glamorous parties, meetings with great men or what it’s like to singlehandedly row around the world blindfolded. They will glaze over, however, if presented with the mind-numbingly dull day-to-day business of being a writer …‘Got up. Took kids to school. Sat at desk for six hours.