I woke up this morning to the news that Edward Woodward had died. Aside from his impressive acting CV I’ll never forget the time, probably 20 years ago now that I asked my mum, the least starstruck woman on the planet, who her favourite actor was.

She thought about it for a good ten minutes and finally said, ‘Edward Woodward.’ While I was digesting this nugget (and pre-Google struggling to remember what he’d been in), she had another think and announced, ‘No hold on, I meant to say Patrick McGoohan.’

As anecdotes go, it’s not exactly up there with the time I accidentally threw my drink over Larry David but let’s call it a tribute of sorts and move on.

It’s been another surreal week in the town they call Tinsel, although looking back it seems that I only half did everything, didn’t get there at all, arrived late or merely ‘popped my head in to say hi’.

The combination of a curious early morning chill and the chatter of Oscar buzz heralds the start of winter and the preening juggernaut that is the awards season. So last Sunday a handful of Brits screened their movies at the Bel Air Film Festival, which I would have covered for you if their publicist had got back to me.

In fact, I ended up visiting friends in Playa Del Rey whose little boy had been rushed to hospital with acute appendicitis. Fortunately he’s better now but it was a scary couple of days.

The American Film Market also set up camp at the Loews Hotel in Santa Monica. I can hardly believe this is my third AFM and their thirtieth. The recession took a small chunk out of their meaty thigh with a few less exhibitors but business seemed brisk with distributors from 70 countries in town to sell their A, B and C movie wares. Again, I was there so briefly, I didn’t even have time to pick up my press pass.

This is my excuse. I’m in such a writing bubble at the moment that I’m finding it hard to leave the house. I’ve given myself a crazy schedule to get my projects finished by the end of this year and although it’s pretty solitary, I’m happy that real progress is finally being made.

That being said, spending too much time alone is unhealthy so other things I ‘half did’ this week included a late drink at Happy Endings on Sunset for some Coreyoke (the Corey Haim/Corey Feldman live karaoke tribute band) to help Brit Darren Darnborough celebrate his three years in LA. He led a rousing chorus of Wonderwall much to the amusement of the American crowd and I met lots of nice new people, whose names I forget due to alcoholic squiffiness. (Or maybe running with the theme of this week I was only half listening?)

I also had tickets for – but missed – The Thrilling Adventure comedy show at the M Bar in Hollywood. This month it featured Kevin Pollack, who is probably best known for The Usual Suspects but will be seen next year in Kevin Smith’s highly anticipated A Couple of Dicks.

The show is performed in old fashioned BBC radio stylie and the audience, who were leaving as I arrived (naturally), thoroughly enjoyed it.

I squeezed into a booth with my friends for a swift drink but it was so late, all I could think about was the half eaten doughnut which was sitting in my car.

You know, if you’re going to do things by halves, you may as well give it 100%.