Meat and friends


Today my boiler packed up totally. I think it’s the end of days for it. Typical. At least it’s summer. But it means that if you need me I am either going to be enervated having sponged myself down with cold water, or a little bit stinky. In fact I might look into a month long groupon deal at a local yoga studio so I can do morning yoga and then have a shower. There’s always a way round it in this city but it’s usually expensive. My grandad had a cold shower every day until the day he died. Okay, he died of a massive coronary shortly after having his cold shower.  Which was probably catalysed by the shower. But he WAS a little older than I am now so I should be okay for a few weeks. Even if it ain’t ideal.

Basically I need a good money job – preferably acting. As do so many of us who live in this city. Nam myo ho renge kyo. Meantime we’ll all keep plugging at it and I can give thanks for the ridiculously lovely days I have whether or not my boiler is working. Today I had some friends round for a Sunday roast. No matter how broke I’m feeling, if it’s possible I want my flat to be a place where people come and are warm and well fed. This evening was great with some lovely people. Tristan is lying behind me making a strange tooting sound that is either snoring or him communicating in an ancient faerie language. Once I’ve written this I’ll go and roll him over and put a blanket on him so he neither freezes nor chokes to death on his own sick. And if he’s talking to the faeries I can see about getting hold of some of that GOLD.

I love cooking meals for people. I’ve got pretty good at it over the years, but the first thing I learnt to do, all those years ago, was roast meat. This evening I went back to basics and had my first red meat since I had medicine a couple of weeks ago. I might not have it regularly, but it seemed time to come to terms with the fact that I am not going to stop eating it – I’m just not going to eat it thoughtlessly. I’m still not back on caffeine, but wine and meat this evening. And Minnie and Rhys and Tristan for amazing company.

And then I couldn’t find my backgammon set, so we decided to play The Game of Life. What in God’s name is that hell? The Game of Life… It’s an eighties board game, and the point of it is to make as much money as possible. It’s the most unutterably corrupt thing I have ever spent my time on. Everything is worth money, everything has a price, nothing has value outside of cash. Anniversaries are an annoying waste of time. Children and lovers are chattels to be accumulated. Run around in circles and make money from everything and then when death comes you win win win by having more than the other people have when they die. I had a choice of career and the closest I could find was pop star. By the time I was 40 I had about 5 million bucks, twins, an aeroplane, a pet, and tatters where there was once a soul. Ok I’d love to be able to stump for a new boiler. But I’d sooner be feeding and sleeping people and worrying about how I’m going to wash than living the life suggested by that game. And the boiler will find a way.

Here’s a photo of Hannah pretending to be me. It tickled me. Have a good week guys.

I’m tempted to institute a new game where I write the blog in a certain style every few days. So anyone that wants to suggest a style for Wednesday’s blog, throw it at me and if I have the inclination I’ll go with the most popular suggestion.


Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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