My husband and I have been discussing the prospect of a projection TV for a long time. By projection TV, I mean a projector and a screen, not a rear-projection one. As this requires several components (for example, it poses the problem of where the sound is coming from), we decided to go to Tottenham Court Road for some expertise and to price it out.

We figured the Sony Store would be a good place to start because they’d know their products, even if we were unlikely to purchase there – chances are you can find a better price elsewhere. It was disappointing. The salesman mumbled so badly we had trouble understanding him and they only had two units, neither of which they were trying very hard to sell us.

So we wandered down the road to a place that had like six or seven units and the guy told us we needed an appointment and should come in tomorrow. We thought that sounded just fine. On our way out, he asked our price range. For everything, we don’t want to pay more than £2000. He was like: oh, that’s quite high. I’m kicking myself, now – we’re not in as good of a bargaining position. Oh well. That’s tomorrow’s problem.

So we wander out of the shop and on a whim decide to walk down Charring Cross Road to Leicester Square and catch a movie.

This, we soon found out, was a Bad Idea. The place was swarming. We noticed the erection of a marquis-like structure going on and groaned inwardly: a premiere. That explains all of the people. Except that we soon realised it wasn’t a premiere. It was the BAFTAs. And there was the red carpet. Oh wait, and is that Simon Pegg? Oh. Yeah.

What a nasty day for a big awards shindig like the BAFTAs. It was gusting and rainy and cold and grey and everything you hate about London weather. Can you imagine being out there in a little bit of nothing dress and some strappy stilettos? EUGH.

And then there were the inexplicable on-lookers, waiting in the rain to see their favourite celebrities, when you could certainly get a better view from the sofa at home, with a nice tea, and maybe a takeaway. The idea of waiting out there with them flitted across my mind (very briefly), then just as quickly flitted away.

It all left me with the question: Why don’t they space these silly awards things so they’re not all in the most miserable month of the year? I mean, in L.A., where they don’t really have weather, it’s one thing, but here in London? Less than pleasant.