Endless driving

Back from Jersey and immediately into driving again. I’m losing track of which vehicle I’m using. I tried to sleep on a recliner last night and kept on waking up with dead legs. Thankfully the sea was gentle so I slept a few hours, but today was mostly about coffee.

Portsmouth to my house, where Max was waiting to help unload all the boxes into mine for the next stage in the process. Now my bedroom is full of boxes. It’s not ideal but it’ll spur action. Once unloaded I took the car back to Enterprise.

In Jersey an old family friend told us how an ambulance took the side of his car off doing a night time pick up. There’s just no space on that island. “Poor bugger”, I thought. But I woke up with a dink. Just a dink, but Enterprise take the whole excess and then pay back what you don’t use, so suddenly I’m out of overdraft. Also the paperwork takes forever, but thankfully they drive me back home and I’m immediately in the Soul Van and driving with passengers up to Cambridge to get loads of stage flats. This is for the Rotterdam tour, coming soon to The Rose in Kingston and then onwards around the country. You should catch it. I’m not in it, just helping out. But it’s a lovely crowd to help out, and the play is beautiful. Still, it’s a big set. They’re programmed into some big venues. Next to the old Theatre 503 set, it was a lot of work, especially on not enough sleep and with the emotional baggage of dumping a grand into a bit of paintwork on a car that isn’t mine while the Jag sits.

We played Tetris and got it all in the van, but it was touch and go to get Ethan’s lovely steps back in at the end. And I’m going to have to go to Cambridge again pretty soon to get that filthy rocking horse and throw it away. There was nowhere else to put it so I had to leave it there

Once fully loaded, we had to schlep  the flats over to the workshop at Battersea Arts Centre and take them all out again to be touched up and made good before Rotterdam goes all around the country. There’s so much work behind the scenes of these live stories we tell on stage. Every time I help out on the back end I think about it more. It’s lovely to be under the lights being brilliant, but if nobody can see you or the set falls on your head or there’s nobody watching then it’s pointless

Now I’m home feeling shell shocked. I’m going to get the boxes off the bed, lie in a hot bath, and then sleep like a baby.


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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