From the director of ... nothing.

The trouble with announcing to everybody that you're going to make a film is that once you've started to talk about it, you actually have to go ahead and do it otherwise you sound like a right twat. Rather like the time I declared in the local pub that, "I'm going to move far away from here! Iceland, probably." Of course I didn't really mean it, but the next thing I knew I was being waved off at the village train station, no job, no home, just a rucksack on my back and a one-way ticket to Reykjavik.

So last night in the pub everyone wanted to know what this "film" is going to be about. Well, that's the problem. I still haven't come up with anything decent to write about. Mary wants it to be about an old woman who drowns squirrels in the river, but I told her it can't just all be about her. My friend Samantha from Sex and the City offered to act, so now everyone's expecting a porn flick.

Luckily I start film school in London on Tuesday, so that's giving everyone great hope and backing up our great claims a bit. I have to make four 3-minute films over the month that I'm there, so maybe one weekend I'll pop back to Dolwyddelan with a storyboard and one of those things you clap together when you shout "take two!".