Home Time
Neil Edmond writes...
First off, I'm not Emma Fryer. What with her being leggy and funny and a talented oil painter, I wish I was. I dare say you'd prefer to read a blog by her, too, with its implicit waft of perfume and a hint of knickers. Sorry.
I'm her co-writer. I'll try to get her to chip in next week, but this morning she's having a massive wasps' nest knocked out of her loft. This is not a euphemism.
I've been working with Emma for a good three years now, first in an Edinburgh show (Danielle Ward's ace Take-a-Break Tales) and then in a big long make-a-film-everyday-for-three-months interactive internet thing called . That was for Baby Cow. Cos he'd liked it, Henry Normal asked Emma if she had any ideas for a sitcom. She had two. Henry sensibly picked the less expensive one.
Nicely, she asked me to write it with her. She wanted me to be in it too, but I was too old and male to be the female schoolfriend of a 29 year-old depressed woman, and too young and untrustworthy to be a parent. I get a small, cheeky part later on, although I say less than most of the stand-in artists and have an exceptional double chin and a bad shave.
Here's a clip in which Gaynor sneaks unseen through the streets of Coventry:
That man with the dog - the first person Gaynor sees - is Simon Heer, a lad Emma used to teach in Coventry. The dog belongs to Emma's best mate Helen. Emma's Mum, Dad, Brother, niece, friends, and attractive senior neighbour Shirley all appear later in the series. As my Mum's from Shrewsbury, she wasn't allowed to be in it.
Hopefully, you've figured out that Home Time is about a woman who has come home, didn't want to, and is ashamed - not only of not having failed to achieve all the loftily vague wonders she'd planned when she legged it at 17, but also cos she left her friends brutally and with a nasty hint of superiority. It could have been set anywhere - home towns are loved and loathed in equal measure. When we rail against them and run off in our youth, we're actually rejecting ourselves, blaming the towns for the fact that we feel big and explosive and fidgety.
Anyroad, each week I'm going to demonstrate ways in which I attempted to interfere with the filming beyond my required input. For example, I submitted some costume designs. This was my idea for Mrs Pitman, who Mel babysits for:
It was rejected.
Ta for reading. I'll gladly pass any questions on to Emma.
Home Time is on Mondays at 10pm on ³ÉÈËÂÛ̳ Two
First off, I'm not Emma Fryer. What with her being leggy and funny and a talented oil painter, I wish I was. I dare say you'd prefer to read a blog by her, too, with its implicit waft of perfume and a hint of knickers. Sorry.I'm her co-writer. I'll try to get her to chip in next week, but this morning she's having a massive wasps' nest knocked out of her loft. This is not a euphemism.
I've been working with Emma for a good three years now, first in an Edinburgh show (Danielle Ward's ace Take-a-Break Tales) and then in a big long make-a-film-everyday-for-three-months interactive internet thing called . That was for Baby Cow. Cos he'd liked it, Henry Normal asked Emma if she had any ideas for a sitcom. She had two. Henry sensibly picked the less expensive one.
Nicely, she asked me to write it with her. She wanted me to be in it too, but I was too old and male to be the female schoolfriend of a 29 year-old depressed woman, and too young and untrustworthy to be a parent. I get a small, cheeky part later on, although I say less than most of the stand-in artists and have an exceptional double chin and a bad shave.
Here's a clip in which Gaynor sneaks unseen through the streets of Coventry:
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Hopefully, you've figured out that Home Time is about a woman who has come home, didn't want to, and is ashamed - not only of not having failed to achieve all the loftily vague wonders she'd planned when she legged it at 17, but also cos she left her friends brutally and with a nasty hint of superiority. It could have been set anywhere - home towns are loved and loathed in equal measure. When we rail against them and run off in our youth, we're actually rejecting ourselves, blaming the towns for the fact that we feel big and explosive and fidgety.
Anyroad, each week I'm going to demonstrate ways in which I attempted to interfere with the filming beyond my required input. For example, I submitted some costume designs. This was my idea for Mrs Pitman, who Mel babysits for:
It was rejected. Ta for reading. I'll gladly pass any questions on to Emma.
Home Time is on Mondays at 10pm on ³ÉÈËÂÛ̳ Two
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