Sometimes when I’m traveling I buy a bottle of whisky on the way home in duty free. But the last few times I’ve had no inclination to do so, for the simple reason that all the airports force you to slalom through expectant shops with all your bags. Even if there’s a good deal to be had I want to choose to go shopping. I hate being funneled like that. The shop is collaborating with the airport simply in order to tempt purchases. We all have to walk further with our bags in the hopes we buy chocolate. It brings home to me the fact that they must be making loads of money, and consequently that the deals aren’t as good as we are expected to believe. So I don’t get myself a cheap bottle of whisky any more. If I want one I’ll go online. Which is probably for the best anyway, as I’m trying to ease back on the amount I drink.
But I’m back in town, whisky or no whisky. I got home to mouldy dishes in the sink, which was slipshod. I also got home starving. It’s only an hour and a half flight, but you ain’t getting an inflight meal with easyJet for less than the price of a house.
I roasted a chicken and Brian and I shoved it into our faces. Now I’m stuffed, tired and happy. Seems I can still nail roast potatoes when I’m rushed and shattered. This trip to Milan has wrought havoc with my tendency towards teetotal veganism. But it’s been brilliant to come away and recalibrate. The coming week promises to be as odd, varied and unpredictable as ever. I’ve got a diary full of madness already, and more in potentia. So this evening I’m just going to get ready for the week, lie back, blog, bath, bed.
Europe is so close, and the competition in the aviation industry plus Airbnb makes it really affordable. I want to book more gigs in other countries and extend my stay before Brexit potentially makes it much harder. The last couple of years have brought so much joy through travel. I used to go off to random bits of Europe a couple of times a year. I stopped doing it as I always had to cancel meetings. This was perfect. I was being paid for half of it. It was tough in terms of shuffling meetings. But bitch as I might about the rise of self-taped preliminary auditions, it means that you can roll the dice without flying back from holiday early. All I missed was a drive to Lake Maggiore when I put down that Hindi scene, and something might come of it. Hassle or no hassle it’s better than having to come back from Italy for a test of the odds, which I’ve done in the past.
Here’s to a good week of delightful ridiculous varied fun. If it’s anything like last week, it’ll be a blinder. I’ll miss the fellowship we had in that villa in Como.