I’m lying sprawled on my sofa. I’m starving. I’ve been delaying food for as long as possible because Brian was migraine fucked about 5 hours ago and now he’s AWOL. I want him to come home to a happy house with food. Problem is I have no food in. Step in Domino’s Pizza. Ugh.

I struggle with the ethics and the prices they charge for a bit of dough, these pizza places. How did it become justifiable to charge 30 quid for a circle of bread with the cheapest possible ingredients thrown casually onto it and then run through a conveyor belt? Nonetheless I want to feed him because I suspect he’s either dying of a migraine or hammered. He’s been full on meeting to meeting all day, which I know because one of them was with Jack and I and he was running out.

We have a good sense now of where Christmas Carol will take place, and how it will all fit together. It’s happening again. I’m thrilled, and grateful to him because it wouldn’t be happening without him.

Like coffee, pizza is one of the scams we just societally ignore. The “cost price” for a pizza is more than for a beautiful meal at a proper restaurant. Then they can draw a line through it and tell us we’re getting a bargain. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are dying in the pond in Hampstead Heath wondering what happened. But pizza is still a reward mechanism. And it’s still a big mark up. The actual price after the notional price has been slashed is still absurd and disproportionate. Utterly utterly absurd for what you get. If you want extra cheese, it’s £2.49! And we buy into it because the culture tells us it’s normal, because it’s brought to our door, because we’re idiots, because our friend is tired and probably drunk but we want to thank him.

Brian and I met on Christmas Carol. It’s the fount of our friendship. He doesn’t have to bring it back every year but he does. Today, a show that involves lots of lovely people having a beautiful meal together has been glued together once more. It’s sad that the glue has been made more immediately sticky with the dough of an anti-abortionist’s nasty pizza franchise. But if we are going to kiss the devil we may as well use tongues.

Jack and I have been hanging out, trying to remember what we did with Carol so we can start where we left off.  Thinking of Christmas… On a day like this… Well I suppose it’s in the shops now…

It’s so odd to think of Christmas practically when it’s like spring in the air. Today has been utterly glorious. A true prism into the potential of autumn. Bright, sharp hard light, illuminating all the possibilities and piles and piles of  fallen leaves.


YesterdayI met a new human on a day like this. Today, again, I wonder what’s possible. What can Minnie’s new child achieve? What can Brian and Jack and I achieve in Carol? What can we all make possible? We are all infinitely capable. I’m floored by the depth of choice we have in so many aspects of our lives. Despite the fact that this evening I just rang Domino’s again and got a circle of cheap dough for fucketyhundred pennies.

Still, we enjoyed it together. And now it’s sleep or collapse. Pickle just leapt into her favoured warm bit by my feet. Lights out, it seems, pizza bloat or no. Knowing Carol is back, it’s time to hit yoga properly again. I haven’t done a handstand since I broke my rib.


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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