Fresh minted tea

The city is flooded at the moment. Persistent overnight rainfall, and still this biting cold. Spring keeps valiantly popping up to get slapped back down like a whack-a-mole. All the news is dark. Even April Fools Day news was lost because stories far more outlandish than spaghetti trees are disseminated online every day of the year and passed off as truth. We are consistently lied to so blatantly that we forget that lies can sometimes be written without the intent of manipulating opinion. Just for a joke. Tell that to the people shouting “Fake news” at The Onion like they’ve worked it out.

No work today. I’ve been trying to kick my brother out from whichever hole he’s hiding in. And at home I’ve been attempting to maintain the new house rule: Leave it the same or better. I’ve been working out a plan of action with the expensive Jersey lawyers. And I’ve sent a few – (too few) – invoices. The highlight of my day was going for a freshmint tea. Yep. That was the only time I left the house.

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Sprig of mint in a glass. Add warm water. “That’ll be three quid twenty please mate.” Service charge 12% added. It wasn’t my round but it still hurt my head. Artists are not supposed to live in this town. People that think £25 is a good price for a yoga class should live in this town. Which is why artists MUST live in this town – so they can teach the yoga classes.

I need to finish the steps to get this flat Airbnb-ish so I can use other people’s spending power to augment my own. Obviously a West End job would cut it too. But while I wait I’d still like to make my home lovely and experiment with renting it to Chelsea Flower Show types.

I’ll need a power shower. I’ll need a carpet that isn’t covered in ancient wine stains and generations of dust. I’ll need a new bed frame. I can probably get away without the carpet until I’ve raised the cash for it by renting. So that’s all and it’s quite manageable.

Going in for a commercial casting on Thursday that will bankroll the shower and maybe give me a chance to visit dad’s grave – (he’s in Switzerland and that’s where it’s shooting.) Commercial castings are a crap-shoot, but I still have a surprisingly good hit rate (one of my commercials won an award dahling) so I’ll allow myself to hope towards it. The fee keeps dropping for the work, but the work is pleasant and usually efficient and you frequently get to travel.

Typically this audition is on the only day of day job work I’ve got this week, and the daily shoot fee is just shy of the wage I suspect I’ll have to forfeit in order to attend the audition. But I know where my priorities lie. I always have. “I am in blood stepped in so far, that go back were as tedious as go o’er.” So, wish me luck I guess. Meanwhile I’ll tidy the kitchen and go to bed early.

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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