And other get-togethers across town.

Turns out, the life of a journalist and Golden Globes international voter is hard work. But I knew that already.

At a reception for the upcoming film Conclave, starring Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci and Isabella Rossellini, a kind woman came and joined our small group of colleagues chatting, all enjoying the mini portions of steak frites on a stick. “So what do you do?” She asked excitedly, continuing “you look like a fun group!” When we obliged with our titles of “film journalist” and “critic” she chimed in, “so you get paid to watch movies — how cool!”

We had to correct her, as most of the time yes, we watch lots of films, but also most of the time, we don’t get paid for it. The majority of our work is without remuneration, but is done out of a passion and commitment to the Seventh Art. If we don’t watch all the films that mean something in the current landscape, we won’t be able to vote fairly on our favorites, but also we will never be able to compare, differentiate and write about each film from a point of view of knowledge. So, yes we told her, we watch films all the time, and that’s fun because — and I speak for my close colleagues and friends — we love it. But we also don’t really do it for the money. We would be fools to do this job for money. Better running for office or becoming a computer programmer instead.

The last couple of days, since the BFI London Film Festival kicked off, has been a blast. I’ve watched some great projects and my soul got reenergized from the mess that Venice turned out to be this year. Lack of access to talent, films that seemed so-so at best, except for my fave by Luca Guadagnino, and an unbearable heat, coupled with angry mosquitoes on a mission to sting relentlessly and keep me up at night. Plus, exorbitant prices that make a trip to the Lido seem like you’ve taken a luxury trip to a spa in the Bahamas. Without the spa, or the Bahamas.

London Film Festival is in my own backyard and in between screenings and junkets, I get to go home. Each night, my head rests on my pillow and that’s a luxury. Which this year has been coupled with an unparalleled number of excellent films and friendly gathering, where the great talent behind those excellent films magically appears and even shares a drink and a chat with this journalist — making all the hassles of this job disappear.

The highlights so far have been the films — Nickel Boys by RaMell Ross, the animation project The Wild Robot, directed by Chris Sanders, Anora by Sean Baker, Emilia Pérez by Jacques Audiard, and Conclave — but also the receptions. A brunch by Netflix, a 30th anniversary celebration by DreamWorks Animation and the Golden Globes party, which was held in Partnership with Luxury-Lifestyle Magazine Robb Report.

At the latter, I watched Sasha Baron Cohen waltz by my table, and chatted with American actor John Magaro, in town while he shoots the English language remake of The Bureau — titled The Agency, which also stars Michael Fassbender and Richard Gere. And brushed shoulders with the phenomenal Karla Sofía Gascón — yes the Emilia Pérez — whom I’d met and chatted with earlier in the day. Then I did a double take as Jesse Eisenberg walked by, in his usual cool kindness mode. I wish I could say the same for Adrien Brody… But that’s another story for another time. More of a remembrance of the time I got to interview him in Cannes, and he spent the entire time on his Blackberry. Yup, Brody and I go way back.

Inside the newly opened and very exclusive Soho Mews House where you have to be nominated to become a member, I also saw Jennifer Grey looking gorgeous in a color-of-the-moment, burgundy blouse and matching shimmering skirt and drank cocktails made up using Johnny Walker Blue Label, which is over $200 a bottle and I’m figuring, I wasted at least half of that, since I left a couple of glasses without finishing them and switched to water instead.

I also did get to catch up with RaMell Ross and Ethan Herisse on the first floor of the Soho Mews House, where tables united weary heel wearers and savvy attendees who ventured off the overcrowded ground floor. And what a chat that turned out to be. I’m sworn to secrecy and professional courtesy of course, since the party was a social gathering and not a place of work. But hints of that conversation will color my writing for weeks, even months to come.

So is this all in a day’s work for a journalist and awards voter? No, it’s a special moment in time that is meant to be enjoyed and can be used to reinvigorate our weary soul, before we get back to work. For free.

But it is magical when it happens and as the George Gershwin song goes, “it’s nice work if you can get it, and if you get it, won't you tell me how?”

Images courtesy of Penske Media Corporation, used with permission.