The British Independent Film Awards are held on a roadside outside a London Hotel each year. Last year, it was so poor (weather- and light- wise) I never bothered to post the journal, even though Ralph Fienness and several other notables attended. This year… fine, I’ll document the madness.
We start with…. I don’t know who this is. The lack of streetlighting means the Nikon (which I’m using instead of the Pentax for High-ISO reasons) whitebalance doesn’t really know what to do.
“No, dear boy. I have no idea what kind of wand would choose you” John Hurt indulgently signs for fans.
Billy Connolly arrives, looking well-kempt but confused about the lack of security, red carpet, and a disproportionate number of Members Of The Public hanging out i…