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Hello readers. As you can see I'm taking in Galway's fresh sea air this week, but my blog will return in full next Friday. In the meantime here's another chance to read last week's entry.

Friday July 8
As I half-expected, my meeting with Channel 4 was cancelled because our man there "couldn't get in". I was merrily walking to the station to do psychological battle with the aftershock when I got the message, so I merrily turned around and came home. I was quite glad to get the whole day back actually, as I have a lot of writing that needs doing before we go on holiday on Friday. I can't wait to get to Ireland, specifically to Galway, one of my favourite spots on earth (to be really specific: the blue garden table on the decking outside the cottage, with the swallows perched on telegraph wire overhead, a book in my hand, Galway Bay laid out before me and sea air in my lungs). As ever, you go on holiday and end up working twice as hard in the run-up. That's how this next week will play out, I predict. I can hardly complain. I am self-employed. I am grateful for the work. Anyway, with the time I clawed back by not going into London today, I finished my piece on Johnny Depp for Radio Times and the best part of the second draft of my New Yorker extravaganza for Word.

Nothing on telly, so I watched two documentaries about The French Connection from the double-disc special edition DVD, one made by Mark Kermode for the BBC, which I'd seen and enjoyed, and an American one, more garish and overstated but it had a fresh Gene Hackman interview and that's what I was there for. It's all research for my Sight & Sound piece: a career overview of my favourite screen actor. Also watched another West Wing , written by Debora Cahn, The Supremes . The one where Glenn Close, a liberal judge, gets nominated to the bench when the conservative Supreme Court justice dies. It flowed like chocolate.

Saturday July 9
I read back last week's blog. I do rather come across as a bitter, twisted old man. I feel slightly self-conscious about it. I am quite a sunny individual. I make it my professional business to be pleasant and helpful and never throw tantrums, and I hope those who know me would think of me as easygoing and even humorous. But underneath it all there bubbles a cauldron of rage and discontent. I rail against injustice and hypocrisy as I see it. It's only because I care so deeply about the world. But I'm going to keep a lid on the cauldron this week. That is my pledge to you.

First trip into London since the bombs. First trip on the underground. It was awfully quiet for a Saturday in July. Lots of tourists drawn to Buckingham Palace as if by a magnet, but the streets were otherwise eerily empty. I expect the sort of people who come up to the capital for the day made other plans. The foreign tourists were already here and getting on with the business of clutching maps and taking photos. Everyone else stayed away. It's a deal, if you ask me. Extra security guards at Broadcasting House. I'm glad I wasn't there on Thursday. I caught up on all the internal emails and it must have been pretty tense, especially when nobody knew what was actually going on and the BBC tannoy told everyone to stay in the building until further notice.

Best DVD we've rented for a while this evening: The Cooler, with William H Macy as a walking bad luck charm in an old-school Vegas casino, where he is paid to spread his poor fortune. I particularly liked Alec Baldwin as his boss, clinging to the past as the future moves in.

Caught a repeat of a documentary on one of the BBC channels tonight which I'd been asked to present last year. I had to turn it down as I was working afternoons (or at least I said yes to it but once they discovered I couldn't work full days they withdrew their offer). It was one of the reasons I moved to the weekends at 6 Music. I was having to turn down a lot of good work. I would have really loved writing and presenting this programme. But it turned out very well indeed.

Sunday July 10
All roads now officially lead to Galway. I have my requisite four books to read. Since I won't be writing my blog next week, this is my reading list:

Blockbuster by Tom Shone
The Man In The High Castle by Philip K Dick
Windows On The World by Frédéric Beigbeder
Suffer The Little Children by Mary Rafferty and Eoin O'Sullivan (about the Industrial Schools in Ireland, because I need a bit of abject misery)
 
Went to an advance "family screening" in Leicester Square of Charlie And The Chocolate Factory. There's a review embargo until it's released at the end of the month so I can't tell you what I thought of it. I can't believe they didn't give chocolate to all the kids on the way out. A wasted marketing opportunity.

Someone emailed the show today with the criticism that this blog is too long. I take that on the chin. It is. I vow to write less. London was quiet again today, although less so. Maybe normality is resuming. It was hot. Thai meal. Tired.

Monday July 11
Some good news arrived in the post: Vogue, the black Labrador guide dog puppy I sponsor, has graduated and now no longer needs my financial or moral support. She's moving in with her owner Jeanette. My new puppy is called Denver and is a six week-old Golden Retriever. For just a few pounds a month over an 18-month training period, you get all the pleasure of regular "Pupdates" and postcards. Each one brings a smile. I can see no downside to this arrangement. If you're interested, go here. 

A satisfying meeting at the BBC, this time with Simon Day, Avalon Rob and another commissioning editor (no details until we get a commission) - it went very well. Even better, it was over by 11.50 and I was on the train home by 12.32. Home in time to get civilised and visit a National Trust site in Esher called Claremont Landscape Garden, one of the earliest of its kind, dating from the reign of Queen Anne. It was described in 1727 as "the noblest of any in Europe". There's a spectacular three-acre turf amphitheatre, the only surviving example in Europe. "Capability" Brown redesigned the estate in the 1770s. Just add a wide variety of ducks and geese (and a visiting heron), lay a canopy of cloud over a blue, sunny July sky, free parking and you have a delectable afternoon. Next time I must take my binoculars and my bird book.

The Machinist,  starring a 120-pound Christian Bale. My second favourite film of the year so far.

Tuesday July 12
Another early start. Ghoulishly or otherwise, I actually built "terrorism time" into my trip to London - not really believing there would be another attack (if you did you wouldn't leave the house), but conscious that bomb scares at the very least are now a reality, and tube lines can be suspended without warning. So I left the house at 8am even though I wasn't due at my first appointment in West London until 10.30. As it was, apart from a truncated Hammersmith & City line and an unduly crowded District Line due to a suspended Circle Line, it was a fairly uneventful journey. (I notified station staff at Victoria about a rucksack that had been left in the luggage rack on the train. That makes me a responsible citizen.) Anyway, I was being interviewed in an empty bar in Westbourne Park for a BBC3 documentary about the history of swearing on TV. I was in front of the camera for the best part of two hours. There was so much ground to cover: Til Death Us Do Part, Mary Whitehouse, Brookside , Live Aid, rap music and butchered films on TV like Scarface and Apocalypse Now. They also wanted me to read out some BBC memos from the 60s about the word "bloody" (innocent times). It was bracing stuff. High hopes.

Interesting to watch Baddiel And Skinner Unplanned tonight and see them deftly avoid any mention of the bombs. Not that it's a suitable subject for larks, but it's such a topical, reactive show normally. The tension told. Gordon Ramsay finally revisited the restaurant in Yorkshire that featured on the very first Kitchen Nightmare, and which I missed at the time. It was a terminal case, sadly, with a 21-year-old chef who had that all-too-common attitude among 21-year-olds that fame and fortune await without putting in any work.

Wednesday July 13
Very briefly then, as I'm trying to keep the word-count down: exercise regime; a sunny stroll into Reigate; finished New Yorker piece and had it accepted; wrote Guardian diary early; downloaded 392 hits from the 70s onto my iPod for the holiday; watched You Are What You Eat, The Ends Of The Earth  andNip/Tuck - a fine evening of telly.

Thursday July 14
To do: pack suitcases, fill tyres with air, buy a few last bits and pieces. Off to Galway tomorrow. Normal service resumed in two weeks' time. I hope whoever wrote in complaining that my blog was too long finds this week's a little more palatable.


The views expressed in this column are the views of Andrew Collins and do not represent the views of the BBC.