Toxic coccyx

Sunday 10 Jan 10

Last night I did a New York TimesTalk  at the new swanky Times building in midtown, NYC, and I had a really good time(s).    Patrick Healy was the journalist who interviewed me and as we were waiting to go onstage and were listening to our introductions (always a slightly wince-inducing experience no matter how true they are), I was very amsued to hear Patrick's duties at the Times be described as covering 'Broadway and beyond'. I thought that made him sound like a journalistic Buzz Lightyear. 

In these pictures: a lovely lady called Karen (who has run two marathons) doing my make-up... 

Then me having a laugh with Bianca, my publicist and Brian my assistant...

And taking a bow after I had performed a few songs with my musical cohort Lance Horne at the piano... 

                                        And finally facing the paps with the lovely Natalie Portman, who was doing the talk after me...

Afterwards, as I was getting into the SUV they were sending me home in, I jumped back onto the seat and bashed my coccyx right into the hard plastic seat belt receiver , which is the most painful injury I have suffered in some time. I am trying hard not to see this as some sort of message that I trusted the universe and the universe bit me (literally) in the ass. But I will not be flinging myself backwards onto car seats in a hurry. 

This afternoon I went to see Carrie Fisher's one-woman show Wishful Drinking and despite my bruised coccyx and therefore constant discomfort throughtout the performance I had a really good time.  So screw you, universe.