It’s been a lovely couple of days but fuck me it’s exhausting being happy all the time. I’ve been back in the window prancing for the public. Reuters came yesterday and took some photos and ran an article : “Fun for fun’s sake“. Lovely for the artist to get Reuters to cover her first installation. They scared off all the public with their cameras, but took a good interview from Amy the artist. She’s an excellent human, and that sort of thing can only be helpful in terms of pitching for more joy. She provided some much needed and scarce employment in a performative medium in these dark times. The constant expenditure of energy and time on something joyous but ephemeral has been my number one jam for decades now, so this ticked the boxes.
“This is better than dinner at Claridges” said one fellow. He’d just come out of Claridges with his family and I’m not sure if it was an excoriating review of their dinner or high praise for us. I’ll go with the latter.
It’s been glorious and strange. There was a little girl who was allergic to cats who fell in love with my cat a little bit. She was giving me instructions in mime for ages. It was like being the jester for a benevolent empress. I ended up having to copy her dance moves. She was trying to teach me to floss – that’s the dance all the kids are doing. She was considerably better at it than I was. She was so sad to say goodbye that I was sad too. I passed a balloon to her and her mum and purred through the door a bit. I never thought my well studied cat noises would come in so handy. It’s funny what life turns up.
All this madness has helped me keep fit. I think I’ve actually lost weight this week. “I don’t know how you two keep it up all day,” we are told. Nor do I. I have a feeling the lucky coincidence of both of us being on the wagon really helped. There were some great bottles of red wine being opened and consumed directly above us. I was very very aware of them. We were frequently offered glasses that an earlier version of me would have necked as soon as the work was done. Instead I’m stone cold sober, running a bath and boiling the kettle for a hot water bottle. I feel worked out and I’ll sleep heavy and late because the adrenaline takes time to clear, but I’m driving long tomorrow in my dying car with a newly smashed window. I’ll need to be rested as I’m not using caffeine to keep bouncing.
I’m still surfing the wave of feeling good about being off the chemicals. No coffee and I can still dance all day. No booze and I can often sleep all night. I miss good wine still, but I’m already pretty cool about no coffee. That’s a broken habit that will save me thousands over time. I used to think I couldn’t get up without the stuff.
But that’s the end of that for now. Another random lockdown job. What will be next? Inevitably something ridiculous and wonderful. And hopefully a new car, as that idiot smashing the window yesterday has driven pretty much the final nail into the viability of the Micra. He / they even did some crap graffiti on the wall outside:
AlBarclay 