DAY ONE – THE CLONE HOUSE: Ping, ping, ping! It’s no microwave but the alarm that wakes me at six. Help! I’m making a movie today. I remember the time I arrived at the set of my first movie on Day 1 and was furious when I noticed that someone had parked loads of trucks next to our location. The fury soon switched to panic when I realised the lines of vehicles were there for us – me – the film. I’m past that naivete now but there’s still a frisson of fear as I enter the clone house. There are nervous smiles and exchanges. What do you do? Nice to meet you? How will I ever remember your name? The morning goes great but I panic in the afternoon and go home with my tail between my legs. I sit alone in my room and give myself a talking to. Must try harder etc…

D day minus 1. As I lie in bed I’m reminded of the title of a favourite Van Morrison album: “It’s too late to stop now.” At our last rehearsal I introduce the band to Joseph Adams who will play Alistair their manager – he seems quite bemused by his new charges. The day flashes by and I end my last night of freedom watching Amelie again for inspiration, laughing out loud when M. Bredoteau (or is Bretodeau) tells the fat barman that the phone box called out to him. The fat barman rolls his eyes as he rescues a pizza from the microwave: “Just like the microwave is calling to me!”

The Production Meeting. Set in a hotel room somewhere in Barcelona we plod through what is possibly the most tedious yet important meeting we’ll have for the film. All departments are represented including our newly arrived sound chaps from London, Tim and Will, who have just finished working on a movie which is being edited by my cousin-in-law – small world. Guillermo guides us through the script scene by scene and we make sure that all the things we need to make the movie will be available for that scene: 100 extras on the day in front of the Fuller Center means 100 extra meals; much to Alan’s surprise (dismay?) a Fire Eater has been requested for the chase through old Barcelona (my fault); a motion control camera is required for scene 43; a steadicam for scene 10. It goes on and on. My day ends with the delightful task of approving four sexy outfits for Susan Sealove the beastly dame who will kidnap Alistair the band’s manager in scene 8.

I ride into the hills that overlook the Maze where Rachel will lose her sweater (calm down lads – there’ll be a T-shirt underneath) and try and seize the moment. It is an astonishingly beautiful morning and deathly quiet. The streets were completely deserted as I set out and I heard a parrot squawking at me from one house and noticed again how strange it is that Spanish people like to drive to a nice spot and then wash their car. It makes a lot of sense when you think about it. Back in my hutch I try and focus on the shotlist – we will shoot parts of 16 scenes in the first two days. John and Guillermo are doing wonders with the schedule – I try and keep up but in truth I’m living in denial on how much we have to do. Re-read my SClub diary so far. Note to self – must stop calling people ‘valiant,’ ‘stalwart’ etc. even if it’s true. Watch this space for more imaginative character assessment of fellow crew members.

I must start on my shot list. I must…

We are on a technical scout when the good news arrives that my new collapsible travel bike is in Spain. The bad news is it’s still in Madrid in customs. I’m about to lose it (unreasonably as this has NOTHING to do with making a movie) when I check my machine in LA and hear from a mutual friend that Warren Zevon has been diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. Warren’s feisty reply on hearing he will soon be arranging a personal tete a tete with St. Peter? “It’ll be a drag if I die before the new James Bond movie comes out!” Does the phrase REALITY CHECK mean anything? For the first and only time (I hope) I wish I wasn’t in Spain so I could see Mr. Zevon. After not seeing him for many years I bumped into him a month or two back and he said “Let’s get together.” His smile was wide and broad and without a trace of sadness – did he know then I wonder?

My guitar arrives. I annoy Guillermo, astonishing Spanish AD, with some tired blues licks while he asks me important questions. How do you get a guitar players attention? Take his guitar away. Our favourite location for the hotel where SClub wake up managerless is taken away from us. Alan is very decent about breaking the news to me. I’m prepared to deal with it until I realise the last 3 hours spent working on my shot-list were wasted.

While the rest of the world remembers I start a meeting which never ends. As everyone here smokes and I have been yacking non-stop all day my throat is raw and painful by the end but much work has been accomplished. My biggest fear is that I have made some decision today that will irrevocably alter the delicate balance on which making a movie constantly dangles.

My bag arrives. My guitar is still missing in action.

After 2 hours in London happy to arrive back in Barcelona – if only my bags had joined me I would have been ecstatic. John Agoglia (stalwart production manager and man of steel) did the same journey and came via Frankfurt and together we ignored our jet-lag and set off for Sitges to scout locations – this is where the Club will realise that things are not as they should be in SClub land – what Robert McKee would call the Inciting Incident.