Southport is full of Manx flags, and no surprise. There is something reminiscent of the Isle of Man here. Windswept shrubs, sand flies, gorse. Constant wind. Roads. Pebble dash. Hydrangeas. Sea air. About 3 years behind
If I had a really powerful catapult I reckon I could get myself plastered on the harbour wall at Douglas head. Just like old days, but messier. If I squint on a clear day I can make out the outline of one of my old mates telling me I still owe him a pint of Okells and a kipper. Or it could be Douglas Head. If I have time when I’m done here I’m tempted to get a ferry and see the old place for a night or two. Or a catapult, I guess, but a ferry for preference with this rib. I could go walking in the hills and shout at sheep in the wind. It’s a thought. Although my agent has got the hump with me for not putting my availability into her agenting software. Against all odds I have had two meetings on two consecutive days and have had to turn them both down. I’m sure I told her my dates. Sometimes it feels like fate does this stuff on purpose to fuck with me. They were only commercial auditions, so no career stuff there, and a bit like a lottery ticket. But money is the reason I’m here, and commercials still do money, although not as much as they used to. I think this might be lesson learnt, already. I’m slow at learning lessons and also a humongous masochist. So I needed to take a bit more punishment post Ascot. But I’m here now. No more of this shit. (We shall see).
I’m in the 1860 restaurant, which will be my only existence for the coming week. I have an ubergruppenmanager who I met today. Sean. He’s sweet, although he’d never self describe like that. His wife had her first ultrasound today and he couldn’t be bothered to try to hide his joy and excitement at “seeing” his son for the first time. His behavior over the next day or so will directly affect my experience here so I’m hoping he stays happy. He’s South African, but doesn’t appear to be a megalomaniac or a panicker. He seems perfectly happy for my staff to answer to me if I answer to him. He’s OCD as holy hell and inevitably I’ll be swearing about him by the time I’m done, so it’s worth me documenting for myself that I don’t think he’s an axe wielding lunatic now for referral later when I’m tired and angry.
After work we had the luxury to go and watch the sun go down with a beer. We stood on a wide sandy beach like the beach at the end of the world, and toasted the sunset.
I’m willing to believe that, rib or no rib, this will be less of a disaster than the last event. I meet the staff tomorrow, and then all my mentoring instincts will kick in and things will change. Today was just logistics, butter and pain management.
AlBarclay 