Michael Palin-ogólnie

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Saturday, January 14th

Prepare the house for likely visitors this afternoon. Wrap presents and write cards for Mother, who is 80 today and somewhere between Chilton Hall and Gospel Oak.
She arrives with Angela at eleven, looking quite spry and dressed in a neat claret purple two-piece with a touch of flamboyance in a ruff-like frill at the neck. She really looks excellent, as well as I’ve seen her at any time in the last few years. Angela too, with her hair done nicely and well cut, looks fine.
L’Escargot, which has especially opened for us, has set a buffet in the upper room, which is a perfect size for the 26 of us and full of light and airiness.
I give a short speech and mention that air travel was only three weeks old when Granny was born – the longest flight had been for 120 yards. Tomorrow she will be taken from London to New York in the time it would take my father to park the car – this is well greeted, but allows me to wish that father were here today to laugh at it himself.

Sunday, January 15th: London-New York

Sleep well. Up with the alarm at 7.45. Leave with Ma and Angela in a taxi at 8.45, just as a light snow is falling.
At the Concorde check-in I spy Steven Spielberg, Sir Lew Grade, with his white, pasty, sepulchrally-blanched head, and Tom Conti. The whole flight passes so smoothly that I don’t think Mother or Angela really sense that we have crossed the Atlantic, or exchanged continents at all. Ma takes to it as easily as she might the train to Ipswich.
After unpacking and resting, we walk, along dangerously icy sidewalks, up to Avenue of the Americas, then taxi to the Tavern on the Green. Nancy has managed to book us a table in the richly-kitsch Crystal Room, only by mentioning that it was part of my mother’s 80th birthday present. We are right by the window and the sun is dazzling. Outside is Central Park in the snow with a mixture of skaters, skiers, joggers, walkers and sledders passing by as a sort of continuous background entertainment.
Around the Plaza is a great throng of police – the Chinese Premier is staying there. One of the policemen on duty hails me, ‘Hey! Michael’, takes off his glove and shakes my hand – something no policeman in England would do with such unaffected directness. This impresses the relatives.
Then round to Nancy and Simon’s for their American wedding party – or rather the party to offer a chance for their rich NYC friends to give them presents, as Simon puts it to me. I’m getting increasingly tired and find a party of all my NYC friends rather hard work on the smile button – on the first day here.
Find Granny and Angela chatting to Jeremy Irons – whose performance in Stoppard’s The Real Thing has just been hailed as a major Broadway success. Introduce myself and we talk about all sorts of mundane things. Irons claims not to be interested in the razzmatazz and public image of a Broadway star, though he doesn’t altogether convince me.
It’s ten o’clock, nearly ten-thirty, when I finally get Mother away and taxi back to the hotel. To round the day off – a Python repeat (‘Trim Jeans’, etc) on PBS. They’re still awake and laughing and enjoying it at eleven – four, UK time. Amazing.

Monday, January 16th: New York

Meet with [Saturday Night Live team] Dick Ebersol, Bob Tischler and a lady called Pam, whose function isn’t clear. This is a sort of introductory meeting before I go to meet the rest of the writers. Ebersol, who is a big man, was mugged after the show on Saturday night at 4.30. Two black eyes and two broken ribs – and on Central Park South …
After an hour’s chat we go over to the Rock and I meet, or in some cases renew acquaintance with, the writers.
Then I’m given my office – which is in fact Eddie Murphy’s office and contains stacks of unopened fan mail as well as one or two opened letters – one from a fan (white), who wants to ‘ride on your star’. The various writers in their various combinations come along and talk and try out tentative ideas on me. Without Lorne there the whole process is rather businesslike – less pleasant, lazy chat, more of an organised schedule, but this suits me well, as I have Angela and Granny waiting at the hotel.
And they’re raring to go again.

Tuesday, January 17th: New York

I spend the morning in my room writing up a couple of ideas for the show. The monologue fits together neatly and is written within an hour. It involves Ma – it’s too good to miss the opportunity of using her when she’s in New York.
At midday she and Angela return – spirits indomitable after a hot morning at Macy’s – we eat a quick snack in my room – and Ma doesn’t seem too averse to appearing in the monologue. Indeed, at one o’clock when a limousine and a photographer arrive to collect us all at the hotel for theSaturday Night Live photo-session, Mother is carefully dressed and coiffured and ready for anything.
Then I go to the ‘SNL’ office. Sell the monologue idea without much difficulty – in fact Dick Ebersol is so enthusiastic that he calls in the new publicity lady for the show and tells her to release the story that Michael is co-hosting ‘SNL’ with his mother. She will not only be the first mother to co-host, but, he thinks, the oldest host ever on the show.

Wednesday, January 18th: New York

To the Rockefeller Center – snow now driving and quite thick – it looks wonderful swirling past the windows of the 17th floor.
Dick Ebersol warns me ‘You’re in the first nine sketches’; it also turns out I’m in the next nine. No time for shyness, just get up and throw myself into them as best I can – most of them sight unseen. It’s rather enjoyable – like auditions for a college smoker.
I’m free at six and meet Angela and Granny at a recommended restaurant in the Theater District, called The Palatine. Have to crunch over a few snow-caked sidewalks to get to it, but once there I can tell I shall enjoy it. It’s calm and relaxed and this marks it out as something of an oasis in New York terms.
Towards the end of the meal Father Jake, the Catholic priest who runs the restaurant, visits us at table. He sprays cards around like a computer salesman and bemoans the problems with the Vatican, who don’t, he says, take kindly to a priest with a liquor licence. I am moved to write in a brand new visitors’ book they’ve been given by a guest from Texas, ‘Why shouldn’t God be a gourmet?’
We leave with much bowing and scraping from the priest, who has been told who I am by a waiter. One final curiosity is that the hat-check woman apparently used to run the restaurant.

Thursday, January 19th: New York

At 12.30 I walk across Fifth Avenue and into Rockefeller Plaza for a rehearsal on the 17th floor. At 2.30 down to the studio to record some promotional spots – with Mum. Any worries I’ve had about her performance in front of camera disappear when I see with what confidence and aplomb she mounts the stage and delivers her little rejoinders to me. She makes everyone in the gallery laugh when, after one take of the first promo, she asks, rather loudly, on camera, ‘Well, what’s next?’

Saturday, January 21st: New York

Mum has been given Eddie Murphy’s dressing room for the day.
Dress rehearsal offers a foretaste of the sort of reception she is to get from the audience. Much greater than I had expected. She can do no wrong.
The music crescendos and at 11.35, a week after reaching 80, Mum leads me out in front of the cameras. Apart from forgetting to grab my arm at the first cue, everything she does is exactly right. She remains herself, natural and dignified, and yet displaying a winning sparkle of humour in the eyes which absolutely wins the audience over.
So Mother and I, in what must surely be one of our finest hours, are eventually taken, full of compliments, down through the lobby of 30 Rock – where Granny signs an autograph – into a waiting limousine and down to Joanna’s [Restaurant on Madison Avenue] for the party. There is no question of Granny not wanting to go – in fact she stays there until four a.m., when the main lights are switched on in an attempt to flush out the most persistent revellers!

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Masz wersję elektroniczną i skopiowałeś, czy chciało Ci się przepisywać? Smile

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Mnie by się chciało przepisywać? Wink (1)

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[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

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Michael guru Wide grin

Fajne. Trzeba posłuchać.

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[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

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Daily Mail w poszukiwaniu taniej sensacji Wide grin

Palin nie powiedział niczego nowego. Cleese i Idle wedle wszelkich źródeł bywają nie do wytrzymania a Michael dogadywał się zawsze najlepiej ze Śliwą. Bo Graham był potrójnie nie do wytrzymania. I z tego koktajlu czy raczej wulkanu skrajnych osobowości otrzymaliśmy przesmaczną erupcję - Latający Cyrk Monty Pythona. Chwała im za to.

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o, to dziś

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Łubu dubu, łubu dubu, niech żyje nam prezes naszego klubu, niech żyje nam!

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Wszystkiego!

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hepi berzdej, na pewno to czytasz XDDD

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Michael wyrusza w nową stronę- znaczy z nową stroną:
[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

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Wygląda nieco lepiej niż poprzednia, good (blow) job

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Najlepsza jest zakładka: Sklep. Co tam się dzieje?
Like the Cheese Shop we’ve got everything except things to sell. But this is just a temporary blip and there’ll soon to be lots of Palin produce to purchase at preferential prices. Meanwhile here’s a picture of our van driver who’s lost in Rio de Janeiro.

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