Robot 1

I woke up in a beautiful flat in Amsterdam. Everything was white so it resonates at the highest frequency. It is filled with lovely things that have been considered. As someone who is still trying to overcome a clutter habit, it’s an inspiration. At home I have to continue to derail thoughts like: “There, you see, if I hadn’t kept that bizarre random thing in a box alongside hundreds of other equally random things then I wouldn’t have put it to it’s random use this random day.” As someone that loves to travel and move base I need to look into why I have so many complicated irrelevancies pulling at my grounding and preventing me from readily uprooting.

Leaving Anne-May’s beautiful house, I worried about getting back home. Last time I left Amsterdam after Heineken, a 7.30 am flight from Schipol ended up being delayed by 12 hours because of unbelievable fog in London. I landed in City Airport at half seven, notionally having to go on stage at 8.20. I rushed to The Globe, and somehow arrived just in time, preventing the producer, my friend Jon, from having to go on and do my work for me with script in hand. It has never been so close before or since. It almost killed me. Jon was getting moment by moment updates from Amsterdam, with so many details he got people to read an abridged version of the entire communication at a company party, in the Fitzrovia Radio Hour style, as entertainment.

Today’s producer won’t fit my robot costume. Although if there was no choice, she’d try to. She is another Guildhall graduate, coincidentally from Holland. I came to a show she produced a couple of years ago and loved it. That evening I went out with her and said “If you’re doing anything else like this, I’d love to be involved.” Her programming felt positive and creative. Two days later she sent me a three page modern iambic-pentameter monologue alongside a big chunk of Sophocles and a flattering explanation of why she thought I should do it in a fortnight and nobody else could. It was a slow patch. I prefer to say yes. I did. It was joyful. My best friend worked on it with me in her living room. I have done so much work with so many friends in so many living rooms. We all try to club together and help the people we love to smash it. I smashed it and Robin has used me ever since. She understands my desire to work, even as she respects my refusal to work for peanuts.

Today (gone), and tomorrow, the 19th, you will be able to find me in all three rush hours, dressed as a robot in Southwark, joyfully playing with commuters as part of their rush hour. It’s worked out well, being me and my old friend Scott in the team. Scott was in my year at Guildhall and is my “inventor.” I admit I asked to be the robot. I wanted a totally anonymous base to play from. Which defeats the object if I’m telling you lot. Whoever you might be. So yes, come and fuck with me if you’re near Southwark station in the rush hours or lunch hour. We have plenty of space to play with each other. Here’s how I looked:




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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