London is cooking. I’m in a suit. Everyone is happily bounding around in shorts and sunglasses smiling lightly with shining eyes and perfect teeth, touching each other on the forearm and looking beautiful. I’m sitting hunched and grumpy in a puddle of wool and sweat.


I’ll be rehearsing this evening which is bothersome as right now I’d prefer to be in the park with friends and beer. Maybe there’ll be time for that after rehearsal considering sunset isn’t until 9 or later. I wish I wasn’t in this fecking suit. How do these executives cope? Maybe their suits aren’t made out of plastic from TK Maxx. That’s likely to be it. Being an executive probably comes with all the suits you can eat. I suspect my mood is being affected by my outfit.

I’ve been at another audition. I can never think beyond an audition. I peak to it, then stagger out blinking into the world and recalibrate. So today I was aiming for drab. I got dressed up in my drabbest grey businessman suit, and went to Ealing Studios mumbling to myself. Then I talked dull-excitedly about my garden shed in Milton Keynes and how proud I am of my son going to university. Then I incompetently tried to pick up a girl in a bar, and inadvertently sold my soul to the devil. Repeat in different ways while assessing the director and working out if I’d like to work with him. He seemed eloquent and able to give workable provocations to his actors. They teach them well at the Met Film School.

It was only when I finished and walked out into a sweltering parking lot that I immediately knew I was an idiot for not packing a change of clothes. It would never have occurred to me to pack one beforehand. If only I could justify the expense of a PA. If only my mind wasn’t so filled up with colourful unnecessary junk. I even filled my flask with water and left it on the kitchen worktop at home. Bloody eejit.

Still I’d sooner be too hot than too cold. These summer days are so fleeting. And shortly I’ll be in a room with an old friend from drama school, making playful theatre about utterly bogus corporate junk, but making a living through my vocation. I’m a lucky lucky boy. I’ve got some brilliant people in my life, I get to have fun for money, I’m in this crazy city which I’ve come to love, and summer is here at last and making sure we know it.

Last night’s blog was written after a few bottles of wine with three wonderful old friends. I thought I’d get this done early in case I end up crashing off into a sunny park this evening.

I’ve been back on Ahmed, my lovely bike.


Ahmed makes London smaller and cheaper just by existing. He’s about to have an overhaul. I’ll probably dedicate a blog to him and who made him when the overhaul happens. Right now, all I can think about is weekend sun. I hope you all have a glorious one. SUN!!!

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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