No more festival

Well that's it, the LFF is finally over, and my liver is rather glad about that. Last night was the party for Slumdog Millionaire, and also the final night party all rolled into one. It was held in some very posh bar in St James St and was absolutely rammed. In what has become my signature move I drank far too much and then embarrassingly introduced myself to somebody I really admire, this time Stephen Frears. I'd be very surprised if they ever let me into another party again.

Worst thing about the LFF ending is the fact that if I want to see a film now I'll have to pay. No more just turning up and waving a pass, no more press screenings, no more anything. Roll on the next festival.

Something is obviously in the air (or water) as in the last two days we've had a flurry of emails from agents and production companies who want to see the film. I've no idea how this happens as I'd imagine most people keep their cards fairly close to their chest, but it's been most odd, but really, really nice. Fingers crossed the next month will see some good news about getting the next film off the ground.

Meanwhile we sit back and wait for people to come in for distribution for 1234. By all accounts it's a long old process, especially in the current climate, but the sales agent are off to the American Film Market (AFM) next week, which is the biggest market in the US, so with any luck there will be some interest stateside, provided they haven't all got completely caught up in their elections.

Actually the next thing I really need to do is get some work in. These last two weeks I've pretty much lived off canapes, free beer and the chocolate bar they put in every goodie bag, but that's all over now and I'm hungry. One little plate of thai chicken and some tuna carpaccio would go down a treat right now.