Month: August 2017

I’m not looking after myself at the moment. My rib is so much better, thankfully, but it’s still mending. I sneezed twice today with no painkillers, and both times it was shit but manageable. But there’s details like the fact that the torn out quick of my thumb has gone septic to the extent I’m on antibiotics. My body can only do so much. It’s trying…

Right now I’m sitting on the sofa beside a box of 100 assorted glowsticks. I’m trying to switch my head into packing for Wilderness Festival, but tomorrow I’m off to Leeds to teach teachers which is a totally different headspace. Meantime I’m still coming to terms with quite how much I hated working at the golf. Plus my septic thumb hurts and the last thing I feel I’m ready for right now is four nights in a tent. But perhaps it’s what I need. It will be relaxing if I let it be relaxing. But I’ve been trying to wind down for days and not really managing.

So I’m sitting at home, missing loads of people I love who are doing beautiful things at Gerry’s in Soho. There’s an evening of sharing, poetry and music, fronted by some deeply lovely people. It will be beautiful. In fact, fuck it. I’m going. Yes I’m working tomorrow. Yes I feel sad and weird and a bit sick. Best reason. I’ve just booked an uber. I’m walking out the door. You’re getting this live, kids.

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I’m in the uber. With Abraham. He must have farted just before I got in. Bastard. He was trying to hot box me with it but I expressed disgust vocally (by mistake) and reached for the window switch. He immediately dropped all four windows and guiltily asked “Are you okay?” He’ll still get 5 stars because this is England. If he knifed me and stole my clothes it might drop to 4 stars. 3 stars? Genocide.

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I’ve hit Gerry’s. This little tiny glorious underground club in Soho. I’ve rehearsed here. I’ve had bitter arguments here. I’ve laughed here. I’ve sang here. Now I’m live blogging here. They just tried to make me sit in the front row but tonight I am the dude that sits at the back and let’s the sexy people be sexy while I write about them. It’s The Amazing Devil next. New material. This is Maddy and Robbie and band. They were staying in my flat when they put down their first album. Their first album is bloody great. Get it.

They’ve started now. “Give me back my heart you wingless thing.” It’s a highly performative classical folk rock life passion smash act. Maddy is one of the most connected and immediate performers I know, across the board. The gig, even here in this tiny room, is being executed with utter conviction passion and skill. Someone needs to put these guys on a festival stage. My mood is changing. I’m going to let it change and drop my blog until later.

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Glorious. I’m still feeling sick but it’s happy sick now. Although a smidgeon too close to nauseous to be entirely comfortable. And I keep sneezing. I’m not particularly well, in the final analysis. Ach well. I have talented and passionate friends. The Amazing Devil amongst them. I just hope I’m not sick in the bus home.

 

Five years ago I lay in a hospital bed for two days with latex all over my face. There was a “Red” camera a few inches from my nose looking down on my features, catching my twitches, and there were loads of lights and reflectors pointing at me. The sound guy stuck a microphone to my thumb at one point. “You can keep it still. I’ve been watching you.” Mostly I lay there. Occasionally I growled something. I was in a neck brace for the whole two days while working. I noticed it affected my voice with sustained use, and thought that for consistency it would be better not to take it off in the breaks. We had one take per shot, two in a pinch. In the bed next to me was a lovely old guy who had no idea what he was saying or when, and occasionally actually fell asleep during shots. Someone was detailed to wake him for takes. It had to be efficient but it never felt rushed. We had a lovely two days. I made some friends who I still see now. Time pressure can bring people together. And all I had to do was lie in a bed and growl.

We were making a short film called The View From The Window. It was written and directed by a remarkable woman – A D Cooper. Alice Cooper, but she’s asked me to introduce her as “A D” because she’s justifiably bored of comments about “Welcome to my Nightmare.” I respect that. I get so many bank jokes. So. Many. Bank. Jokes.

We’ve become good friends. She is from a naval family as I am, so the photos of her dad strongly remind me of photos of my grandad. And the poor woman has a large photo of my face on the door of her home office. It’s a miracle she still speaks to me having to walk past that every day. But she does.

Today she gave me some of her homemade honey to help my rib heal (she keeps bees). She also gave me solid advice about broken bone recovery. She’s probably had a fair few, witnessed a fair few, caused a fair few. She played Rugby for Richmond, and was press officer and organiser of the first women’s Rugby World Cup in 1991. Nowadays when women’s sport is being more widely recognised across the board, she’s a trailblazer. Now she’s making and writing films. She’s a brilliant human and goes out into the world to change it. I rarely take my hat off, but I certainly take it off to her. She also bought me sausage and mash by the river for lunch. Like me she lives by the river. As my naval grandfather insisted “The sea is in your blood. You’ll always need to live by water.” I see that in her.

She’s recently been experimenting with poetic shorts. She did a beautiful one about the River Thames (sea/blood etc), and then won two days use of an Alexa (essentially a very good camera.) She used that time to shoot a gorgeous tribute to the doomed WW1 poet Edward Thomas on it. She employed my friend and fellow Factory member Alex Bartram. I saw it today and it’s beautiful and whimsical, as her work always is. It’s screening again on Thursday night in town at BAFTA.

Here’s the blurb. It’s just a comfort to know someone who is making things because she wants to, and making them as well as she can under constraints.