Bobsleighs, bikes and bull.

I’ve been moving furniture for a couple of days. 

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The furniture belongs to Brian’s Gatsby show, and it was rented by a celeb for a party. I never actually met the celeb but she paid me immediately so she’s alright in my books. I only met her PA – she sorted the payment. Janine. I love her a little bit right now. I was able to give my brother back the £50 he stumped me.

I had to get into a warehouse in London Bridge armed with a trail of vague photographs and a shit handwritten list on jpeg. I was given a code for a key safe but no indication as to where the safe might be located. I had to get my burglar on, and after a big old adrenaline kick, eventually sorted it out in time for John. John was driving the van.

John was driving the van for Lady and Van. He’s about my age, but with dreadlocks, and very much not a lady. This surprised me at first. I assumed the point of the van was the lady. But he’s ace despite lack of ovaries. We drove across town and he told me about his YouTube channel. He is pioneering aerodynamic pedal powered vehicles in London. Torpedo bikes. Apparently he keeps getting pulled over by cops who think it’s motored. His vehicle is a remarkably sleek beast. I can see the things taking off, both literally and figuratively. They look fast, rainproof and comfortable. He calls them “velomobiles.” 

These bikes are using the same aerodynamic mouldings and fibres as a bobsleigh. I dread to think what my dad would have thought of them. Dad was driving Olympic bobsleigh for years for the BBA. I mention this to John, who tells me that, because of the combination of his look and his vehicle he is frequently identified with one of the guys from the Jamaican bobsleigh team in Calgary. I tell him my dad was in Calgary as trainer. I haven’t seen Cool Runnings, but it was a popular film. All I know is that the Jamaican team kept losing control and flipping the bob, which would damage the run and take time off any team that followed them, so dad didn’t want them there. He would jokingly say that there’s a baddie in the film that’s based on him.

Today John wasn’t biking. He was a lady in a van. He didn’t come close to flipping the van. We were moving furniture for a starry party.

The party was in a house that nobody lives in. Armies of electricians and plumbers descended on it before the party, alongside myself and John. We arrived and it had just been painted. Decoration was ongoing. For one night, the cameras came in, someone pretended to live there and had a big visible party. Then everything was deconstructed once the cameras were gone, and John and I offloaded the furniture from a gutted house. Smoke and mirrors. It was like making a film set. About a month ago my dear old mate Jake had his home turned into Christmas for a Christmas ad. Snow on the roof, trees, decorations, the works. The machine of pretend turns over and over so frequently selling stupid fun fantasies. I love it. But I’m weird. Which makes sense of why I’m in this Aldi ad

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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