Back in the room

Well then. I’ve been home all night watching Netflix and calling it research. We had a lovely house in for Friday night. A few Americans, a diverse bunch of Brits and one guy who had literal brainfreeze when asked the simplest of maths problems. 6+2, I asked the room, and he immediately shouted “Socialism”. I then derailed a number of my other maths problems to be other “isms” ending with “capitalism”. But it was one of those delightful confused and drunk audiences. Up for a good time. Having a good time. Ask them tomorrow where they were and they’ll say “Well, at 4pm I had a jägerbomb and then I remember some fellow in a nightie getting right up in my grill about arithmetic or Christmas and it was great.” Thank God we feed them though. Those poor bastards wouldn’t even know their own name tomorrow if we hadn’t given them ALL THE TURKEY. As it is they went home safe and nobody was sick on me.

It’s the Christmas party season. Oh hell. Millions of people across the nation going for free drinks with people they hate who they have to pretend to like. Medication through consumption. Consensus through excess. Mess. Messy messy mess. Walking through Central London is like a Hieronymous Bosch right now. Costumed idiots in large numbers getting consumed up their own bumholes. Shouting, drinking, more shouting, more drinking. It’s a jungle out there. Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under.

I’m back home and since Twatgate I haven’t seen my new flatmate. I know she hasn’t been murdered as we’ve been messaging and the content is authentic her. She’s with her mother, who I think might be a complicated human. I’ll have the conversation when the time is ripe. I’ve been glad of the space. But now we are open, I’ve got my days back. Hooray. For a month I am THAT guy, your actor friend working in the West End. No booze but late lunches in Soho, walks in the park, oh, shall we go to the museum? Ah Ha an understudy show you say? At 2? Oh how delightful.

I went for lunch in Chinatown with Alice today. We went to one of those places where they rip the meat from a live animal and all the waiters professionally hate you. It was tasty and brothy. I’m still not very good at eating but I made a good shift at it. Alice ended up with the leftovers.

Then to the Curzon for coffee and cake with Minnie. And I ate a whole brownie. D

God I’ve missed Min. Best friends are best for a reason. She’s a mother these days but still a hungry and brilliant actor. She let me back into her life, the details and the ups and downs. I let her into mine. She’s amazing. Being back in the uk is infinitely better now I’ve remembered I can show her the wet parts of my heart and know she understands them.

Then to The Arts for coffee with Marie. We have a tradition of coffee and braindump. It’s a lovely tradition and needed to be actioned before she goes to New Zealand forever tomorrow. We caught twenty minutes. And in that twenty minutes my agent phoned me up with fucking brilliant news of a meeting they had got for me. (Annoyingly hush hush and ndatastic etc). God DAMN I love my agent. I’m a lucky sod, and I know it. Humbug. Bring it. Christmas. Gotta get the job first… Merry Christmas. Humbug.


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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