Waiting

Unlike my child-like other half who hates waiting for surprises and continues to insist that she be allowed to unwrap her Christmas presents on Christmas Eve (over my crumpled remains, she will), I'm very patient when I know I have something to open.

In fact, I can get quite smug with myself as I see how long I can hold on. And then, of course, when I finally do open it, it's often sh*t. (Perhaps I'm subconsciously delaying the disappointment? Gosh, this blog lark can be very therapeutic).

I've got that smug feeling tonight as my Cockney friend and sometime writing partner Ben has just sent me draft two of our sitcom pilot script. I sent him my original draft about a month ago and asked him to sprinkle it with funny dust (nothing illegal, you understand). I plan to read it before I go to bed but I can't resist waiting just a little bit longer.

Maybe one more episode of Gavin & Stacey. Perhaps I'll iron another shirt - I only have enough to do me till Wednesday. Or should I clear out that cupboard I've been promising to excavate since we moved into this house in 2004?

And whilst I'm doing one or all of the above, I can think about Ben's redrafted script.

Will it be our shared path to fame, fortune and notoriety?

Might it get me an invite to address assembly at my old school, Coleraine Inst, and Ben the chance to appear on Celebrity Weakest Link? (not that I would suggest Ben is shallow or anything).

Could those dozen or so pages lying in my bag lead to the first of our many BAFTAs or Golden Globes?

A joint appearance on Friday Night With Jonathan Ross? Maybe when Girls Aloud are on.

I quite fancy a knighthood although Ben, being something of an anarchist, might turn his down (I'd better have a word with him).

Or, like so many surprises down the years, will it just be sh*t?

Knowing Ben, I'm sure the latter won't be the case - but, like me, you'll have to wait to find out.