I had a brilliant conversation with the chief exec of the company I work for yesterday. I was outlining the 'secret' plans for the festival show next year to him and he was very taken by the idea and started muttering about Trainspotting, about collaborations with Irvine Welsh, about writing being provided and me directing. (For I can see Irvine signing up to that...) I suggested (in wickedness) that he ask his friend and one-time neighbour Zinnie Harris to write something for us. He thought indeed she might be able to dash something off. We shall see.

Le soir, I went to see Fish Tank, the much heralded follow-up movie from Red Road girl, Andrea Arnold. Red Road I found fairly unrelentingly bleak, even by my standards. So my expectations were not overly high from an uplifting point of view. But I figured it was one of these movies you must grin and bear for the sake of your filmic education.

But having seen it, I wonder if she has grown into her misery. Yes, it was hopelessly bleak. Dysfunction abounded. Why have a discussion when you can have a shouting match? Why have any kind of life prospect when you can live hopelessly, without kindness or consideration as your ten year old daughter lies smoking and bitching on the sofa? But peculiarly, for me, it was peppered with (albeit exceedingly infrequent) moments of such magical sweetness that it won my heart. Lots and lots of tears for this one. Luckily, Siobhan was too polite to comment.