Old friends and shoulders

Heading in to work this afternoon I met a very old friend. She was on the King’s Road shopping with her kids. She’s my age, the daughter of one of my father’s greatest friends. There was a time where we were both very aware of being set up by our parents in the way that parents do, looking for childhood crushes between their friends. “She’s great isn’t she?” And we did get on as children. We were friends. We made sense of stuff together.

It seems it’s still there in some form, that understanding, mostly through the magic of Facebook these days.

I always feel strange meeting friends from so long ago, but when I meet them and find them still young at heart and still forward moving it makes the meeting very positive. It was very good to see her, my old mate. Witnessing her ongoing vigorous attack on life has made me feel better about my version of that. We both have the notion of having a lot to do, and we both carry a lot to process as we do the things we feel we have to. We both get ourselves tangled up in the doing sometimes. I think that it’s likely we both get our endorphins from achievement and we are both curious about that in ourselves. I’m projecting on her here. I barely know her in truth. Maybe I’m only writing about myself.

I doubt either of us will ever sit down. We both have life occurring all over the place, and darkness tangled with the light. She has kids for goodness’ sake. I’ve avoided that. Maybe I’ve not met the right person at the right time. Maybe I just know that I couldn’t give them the time they need. Hey ho. Insh’Allah.

The way the dates have fallen, this has been a very light week of work. There are only two more shows in the run, and then Jack and I go our separate ways for a month or two. He’s off to be the Scottish king in Guildford, and I’m home and doing a spot of lovely filming because my agent is brilliant and totally gets how to market me. Plus I got the part for myself of course. But I can look back and sense the calls and the shifts and the persistence that got me one of the slots that led to the job. God bless the casting director and full on props to my agent for starting my decade with a job that elicited both celebration and the phrase “about fucking time” from me.

I’m done now. Bed. I’m going to try to get a massage tomorrow as my shoulder is causing me impossible pain and I really don’t like it. It’ll likely keep me up all night again. Jack and Tristan both gave me a gentle massage, but it seems the only thing that makes a difference right now is too much ibuprofen. Hopefully it’ll settle in the next few days. Shouldn’t have carried that oven. Team Know-how bastards.


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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