30th November 2004

Spent most of last week droning on about Enduring Love to anyone who would listen ... or to anyone who the publicists at Pathe stuck in front of me. Quite quickly you become bored with the sound of your own voice, and terrified that you will be asked the same old questions. These are the hardest to answer as you've done so too many times already, and as the interviewer gets the first phrase out - "so when did you first come across the..." - you feel your spirits slump and your tongue tie and your brain addle. Some interviewers are so good that they carry you along with their wit and enthusiasm, however knackered and brain-strained you might be. Then, like going to the dentist, you don't feel a thing, and the terror turns to pleasure. We did 30 minutes live with Paul Ross on LBC on Saturday, a man so smart and well-briefed that he makes it fun.

Sunday, I needed to blow away the cobwebs and I went for a tramp around the Chilterns with a friend, around the same woods and fields where we shot the opening of the film. It was damp and cold and there was mist along the hilltops. When the breeze strengthened, showers of red and orange leaves fell across the path. There are red kites everywhere in the Chilterns now, reintroduced by John Paul Getty in the 70s, and their particular keening call is full of mystery, especially on bleak autumn days. There's a shot and the sound of these amazing birds in the final scene of the film.

We walked for hours before stopping in a pub at Ibstone. The last time I'd been in was at the end of Day One of the shoot, and we sat at the table where Haris (the Director of Photography), Julian (the Gaffer), and Barry (the First Assistant Director) had sat 14 months before, trying to finalise a shooting order for Day Two. There was something satisfying about sitting there again, reading the reviews in the Sunday papers... particularly as the reviews on Sunday were either good or very good.

"I CAN ONLY HOPE HE GETS RUN OVER BY A BUS"

The dailies on Friday had been more mixed, and there was an especially unpleasant and dismissive squib in the Guardian from a writer called Peter Bradshaw, who also slagged off my film The Mother last year. I can only hope he gets run over by a bus before my next film comes out. Preferably quite a slow one, with big knobbly tyres.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, the upshot of the reading of Marathon last week was ... Working Title passed.

Enduring Love is out now in UK cinemas. Discover Roger's thoughts on his latest movie