Wednesday, 13 October 2010


I am reading The Fry Chronicles, which is Stephen Fry's second autobiography. I'm only on page 42, but I've flicked ahead and read some good parts (page 100 made me literally weep with laughter.) Then I put the book down to watch TV, and during an advert break heard Stephen Fry's voice on the direct line adverts. The TV was blaring next to the Blackadder box set, which was still sitting by the television from when Laura and I watched some of it last Thursday.

After I'd finished watching TV, I went upstairs to my room. To get to my room I need to walk up my stairs, where Stephen Fry's book The Liar, which belongs to my parents, is still sitting on the landing from when I took it to Corfu and never got round to actually reading it. Once in my room, I put The Fry Chronicles back on my bedside table. Sitting on a tiny chest of drawers next to my bedside table are assorted pebbles, some jewellry, and Stephen Fry in America.

I carried my laptop up from the study and plugged it in at my desk, using the same socket I use for my CD player. I almost never ever use my CD player, except on the rare occasions when I can't sleep and feel like listening to some Harry Potter, read by, you guessed it, Stephen Fry. And then I have to stop because he's at the bit with all the death, and that does not make for peaceful sleeping.

If I turn around and look over my left shoulder, he's looking at me from the front of his book. If I extended my arm and pressed play on the CD player, I would hear his voice. At Zanny's house there was a joke that I had brought Hugh Laurie along as my date and he was just outside parking the car. Well, if I went to the front door right now and Stephen Fry was there, perhaps holding a packet of chocolate digestives as I have run out, I would not be all that surprised.

If by some hideous chance Stephen Fry just googled his own name and, after reading about 5000 million other results (because he's not, you know, busy or anything), stumbled across this, then I am not stalking you Mr. Fry, you appear to be stalking me.


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