Lines, keys and meat.

Yesterday evening I got a call from the second AD on my upcoming shoot. “You know that long bit that was divided up among six people? How about you learn it all for Saturday morning?”

I’m always game for a quick learn, and I have been known to describe myself as spongebrain. The gamble is, do I allocate the time? Or do I sabotage myself utterly, keep on putting it off, try to cram it just before I sleep, dream about it and wake up fretting? Well, it’s a friend of mine’s birthday party in Soho. Old Al would have four glasses of red wine in him before “oh hell, my lips, I’m filming tomorrow – oh shit the learn!” Shiny new Al still made a showing having got to a stage of relative fluency already. I got a present, had one non alcoholic stout and I was out.

And even that brief moment was a joy. I caught up with a few good friends, and even had a rare chance to catch up with Brian when he’s not working. He’s got a PA now. I think it’ll help immeasurably, and it doesn’t surprise me. He’s been non-stop for so long I’m amazed he hasn’t fallen over. He probably has, in fact. I’ve seen his migraines and they have names and speak in capital letters. We need another job like the one in Milan where we could eat truffles and drink prosecco and call it a work outing. He happened to have the spare keys on his person which is revolutionary. I’ve been gagging for them. Campbell and Tom and I have been working off one keyset, and hiding them in flowerpots when we go out. It’s neither ideal nor secure, but nobody can cut a new key for the upstairs lock as all the remaining ones are copies of copies of copies and they no longer copy properly – like mice that have interbred for too many generations and have legs on their heads.

I’m not cooking this evening. I stopped in Bodeans Soho to sit on my own with a 0 alcohol Brooklyn lager and consume flesh. Then it’s an Uber home, a few more times round with fluency and connections for the lines, bath, painkillers and an early bed.

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I booked a doctor’s appointment at long last. It’s on Wednesday morning. My clinic is busy. The good news is it’s early so I can grit my teeth and go in painkiller free for full assessment. I’m not going to do my usual thing of talking it down and being stoic as I want a fucking referral and I want this fixed. It’s too much, to wake up like that every morning, never mind that it gets me out of bed. I have the broken rib to compare it to, and it is actually somehow worse, even though I can’t imagine anything is broken in there. My movent range is good or I’d be guessing a partial dislocation. I think either an X-Ray or an X-pert is the only logical move.

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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