Crash out

Oh dear. It’s turning into a very naughty week.

The builders in my block are finishing their detail work. Somewhere along the line the idea of pigeon spikes has been abandoned, thankfully, so we don’t have horrible plastic nonsense on our windowsills. They’ve been finishing the detail work, which is handy as they’re out the front. I took the van round. “If you see a traffic warden can you buzz my flat?” “Yeah no problem.” All those cups of tea paid off. I think that’s the end of their work here today. A family firm, and hard working. Next time there’s torrential rain I’ll know if it’s been worth the money we laid down. Hopefully…

What a glorious day. I’ve been rationalising the contents of the van, carrying busts upstairs, sifting through muck for brass. Towards the evening I got an audition for a commercial, and it was spot on. I went in expecting to be French, but there had been a last minute creative change to “very posh”. It might land, as I’m basically playing myself when I’m working at Royal Ascot. It’s a mask I know very well indeed. But commercials are always a shot in the dark, so I’ll write this and then hopefully forget about it.

Post audition, mumbling, I found myself briefly stumbling into some old friends – all three of us actors. We had those conversations you only start having in your forties. Cooking onions. It was a glorious serendipitous meet. Even if you don’t feel it at the time, the old auditions still give you a hard hit of adrenaline. I very much enjoyed a couple of pints and a middle aged chat in the last rays of the spectacular sun this evening.

Then it was all the way to Hampstead. Pub Quiz. Normally pub quizzes are won by the same team week in week out, but however those fell out we smashed it and then i fell asleep halfway through writing this blog…

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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