Quiet Friday

Nope Friday night. You can’t have me. Not this week. I’m out.

I drank all of it last night, and I’m up tomorrow morning early. I don’t need to drink any more this year really. Here’s me at the start of the night blithering about the show courtesy of Flavia. The draw of the bright lights and the cameras. Oh how they pull at me…

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Last night I even had a kebab on the way home – and probably shot my Uber rating out of whack by stinking the thing out as I clutched it in my sweaty hand and monologued to Farouk about theatre. Bless Farouk. He didn’t like me. I just checked. Rating took a tumble. Hey ho. My fault.

There have been many Friday nights over many years. Lots of them have been lovely, but only rarely has it devolved to the point of kebab. Brian left at the right time but he was going to Croydon. Even Tristan left early compared to me. I just walked back in and raised my right arm a bit more until I was so smashed I could barely remember my own name.

Recently lots of these nights have resulted in effusive or incomprehensible blogs, after my companions have been subjected to equally effusive equally incomprehensible conversations with no care for volume or repetition. This time I’m already in bed. The light will be off before the day changes. That’s a rarity in this household. I’m looking forward to it. Sleep. Sweet sleep. Ahhh yes.

Today was admin before the bank holiday. Trying to make sure things were done that had to be done. Paying various people after I got a stack of back pay from Imperial College for all the invigilating I’ve done this year. I’ve got the rest of May and most of June to get all the clutter decluttered and then it’s off to Oxford for the burning bit of summer. I also had to get a van booked for tomorrow. Typical. As soon as I don’t have the van anymore I get paid to rent one and drive it around. I’ve got to pick it up from Kentish Town early. I really need to find a way to get some sort of hybrid long wheel based low emission monster so I can while away the hours when I’m not working by lifting other people’s crap and moving it from one place to another. People always need things to be moved, particularly in this town where everyone has everything to do all the time and space is a rarity. And particularly in this industry where people are likely to end up with a drum kit, eighteen cheval mirrors and a cross trainer, with nowhere to put it. Although perhaps I’m about to hit that vein which makes all the dayjob juggling academic. We will see. Meantime, bank holiday weekend. Sun. Rest. Friends and joy. I can’t wait.

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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