Tired busts

I feel tired today. It’s not as if I was crazy busy. Things started with a trip to IKEA. I was taking Ben, whose parents owned a large part of the bonkers Victorian knick-knack hoard that I’m gradually processing. He needed shelves. I refused to take money to drive him, knowing that his parents have initiated this little cottage industry. So he bought me two lovely bottles of wine. But I think it’s the wine – generally – that has led me to feeling so tired. I’ve been keeping busy, but I’ve been hitting the sauce a bit hard this week. I had a business meeting  yesterday afternoon, and the first question the client asked me was “Can I get you a drink?” Of course I said yes. But it was only half five. By the time I got to the theatre to watch the show I was a few pints down…

Right now I’m sitting on the sofa surrounded by fire damaged busts of Victorian dignitaries. I’m building up the reserves to go and hit a Friday night birthday party for a friend of mine who’s in her twenties, while Kitchener and Gladstone and Edward VII and co all glower at me from their plinths. It’ll be a lovely crowd this evening when I get there. But I’m sleepy. I need a moment of letting myself off the hook, which is good timing as it is technically the weekend coming up.

Part of the tiredness problem is likely to be diet. I haven’t eaten very many square meals this week. Snacking on the go, mostly. Lunch was hot dogs, no breakfast, no dinner. I think I’ll treat myself to a nice evening meal tomorrow once I’ve finished work. And then go to bed early. But for now it’s Friday night in London. It doesn’t have the same draw it used to. I’m just imagining shouting over loud music. I’m getting old.

Maybe I should have a shave, spray with stink and see if I can invite some mad fool back to my house full of wine and Victorian patriotism. Although frankly I’d just fall asleep.

There’s a new TV stand in the back of the van now, from IKEA. I’ll need a hand putting it up as moving the telly is a two person job. But hopefully we’ll get it all set up by the end of tomorrow which will allow a bit more room in the flat for me to sort through ceramics. There’s only so long I’m willing to be a part of Steptoe and Son. Once I know what’s here I can box some of it up for theatre use, throw some of it directly to charity / my niece and turn the rest into money via eBay and maybe even an Esty store, although that’s witchcraft at the moment to me. And then restore the balance of the flat, which is still looking tidy despite the huge influx of gubbins. Besides, you never know when duty will call. I might get jetted halfway round the world next week to work on some action movie. Stranger things have happened…


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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