And I’m older

It’s a beautiful warm Indian summer Sunday. It’s also my birthday. Imagine if I was some sort of narcissistic personality. Imagine if I felt called to do a job that involves standing in front of loads of strangers, being watched. Imagine if I wrote statements about myself EVERY DAY and then made them available online for everyone to read about me. Imagine if I woke up every morning and lovingly oiled my muscles with castrol gtx while singing Barry White to a mirror. If I was that sort of person I’d write: “It’s always lovely on my birthday. That’s the rules.”

But it IS. Is always nice on my birthday. That’s the rules. Mostly those rules haven’t been broken over the years.  Pass the engine oil.


Today I’ve had a brilliant random cross section of my life come in and hang out in the park. I love putting people together. I respect my friends greatly, and I love it when they mix together, and more so when they get together. Right now two of my close friends are starting something. It’s brilliant to witness because they’re both people that live with every fibre of their being. 

Birthdays are a delightful thing. A chance to work out who matters. Also to remember who we are to others. Which differs from who we think we are.

We learn a lot about the people we are spending time with. Right now Lyndon and Jack abd I are still standing, and I’ve had to take myself away from fun for a bit. Lyndon was my constant companion in LA. Jack is my business partner. Both of them understand the need I have to write this daily. They’ve let me exit onto my phone to write my blog. I love that I’ve now cultivated friends who are willing to let me vanish from time to time to make this happen. Part of my respect for Lyndon is based in the way he lets me write my blog, irrespective of the circumstances. This blog is important to be now. Even though I’m sometimes very very drunk and rambling. Morning!

“We need to create cold,” says Lyndon. “Can we do it with sound!” asks Jack. We are brainstormingb Christmas Carol. We have creative freedom, to a large extent, and a format we know that works. It’s our show now. “What would you want it to smell like, when it’s Christmas?” “Cinnamon.” I love these idea sessions.

I also love how this discussion forms the dregs of my birthday party. I kept it very small, and ended up feeling very very loved. Yesterday’s blog wasn’t great in terms of insight. Today is similar. I’m sitting talking about how to use smell in theatre and God it’s exciting because I love that show.

But I am sitting with close friends, writing. I’ve tried going into a dark room to write something, but to be honest this evening it’s never going to be anything other than a workmanlike blog. So yeah, I’m going back to thinking about Scrooge and Marley. Thanks for reading. Have a brilliant week. Turns out we didn’t get destroyed by a rogue planet. Hooray!

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.

One thought on “And I’m older”

  1. Cinnamon is good, it always is. Mel Torme’s chestnuts roasting by an open fire…… always sets me off with nostalgia on steroids….


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