At 8.45 I put my empty coffee cup on the sideboard, turned my van round on Sandie’s lawn in Easingwold and headed out into the torrential nationwide downpour. The good thing about the fact we now live in a cloud is that my phone doesn’t cook itself as it sits in the sunny sat-nav holder. The bad thing is that the world is a swimming pool and I’m driving through it at 95mph (Artistic license. Actually 70mph. I never break the law, and nor should you.)
It’s one o’clock and I’m exhausted. I got back to the place I started from at half midnight. There’s a can of beer on the sideboard and you can’t stop me drinking it. I’ve barely stopped all day. Driving conditions have been truly shitawful, but at least my battery power stayed.
I already had a load of sewing machines packed in from Cambridge last night. And a huge cumbersome circular box thing they hadn’t bothered telling us about. This stuff is all going to Edinburgh. Evidently there’s a show about sewing. That was first in.
Then I grabbed a box for “Just Fucking Pay Me.” (I think that was the name). A show about strippers. Easy. Nicely packed. Gotta hand it to burlesque people. They know how to do a lot with a little. Maybe it’s not burlesque but that’s the vibe I got. I deliberately only asked each company one question.
Then I was off to Gatsby’s Drugstore. Months ago, Golfo, Josh and I measured up a load of astroturf and stored it in the roof, in an enlightened attempt to rationalise the storage space there for future us. We had some payback today in that we knew immediately where that fake grass was. Famous Five wants that fake grass. In it goes.
There was a cycle event today that destroyed almost every river crossing chance. I got to know the tunnels a bit better. I managed Rotherhithe, Blackwall and the Woolwich Ferry today.
Next up was Streatham, where my one question policy derailed itself in that the answer yielded no information. I got a lot of furniture from “Oh it’s an American company, they’ve done lots of stuff in the past.” Uh. Ok. Take what you want from that. Whatever the American company does it involves some lovely furniture that nobody could be bothered to bubble wrap. I’ve tried to be kind to it.
Then it was over to Woolwich, where I met a Frenchwoman in an uber. She was delightful. I was losing focus by now but if I recall its a show about translation, made out of large fragile pieces of paper. I liked her. I can’t plug her show.
Finally a dance piece made out of the cheapest plastic that exists, threaded through with extremely fragile circuitry, and with occasional heavy chunks of wood. This set isn’t made for travel, and it’s last in. I’m worried about it. The creators were ace if SLOW. I was over 2 hours driving the van from temporary park to temporary park while they bubble wrapped their balsawood set.
Then I drove back through the ocean to Yorkshire, where sleepy Phil and I loaded “just a few boxes” into the van. I discovered how the phrase “just a few boxes” means three humongous trunks and a load of random shit.
So there’s my week done at last. Edinburgh people, go see Famous Five, 9 foot women, just fucking pay me, “it’s an American company”, and something made out of paper about translation at 11am Assembly.
And me? I don’t have to drive tomorrow. Hooray. I’m putting my empty beer can on the sideboard. I think it might be bedtime. Zzz