Moving a friend to St Leonards

Today the driving had a purpose. Saint Leonards on Sea is effectively a suburb of Hastings with big houses. There’s a huge long seafront, and it seems half of the actors in London are moving there at the moment. I had a van load of stuff from one of my very dear friends in the industry. She’s moving out of town. She’s still paying big numbers in rent – I’m a very lucky duck with this pad. It’s expensive but she’s getting high ceilings and sunlight and a huge expanse of sea. I totally get it. As you know, oh constant reader, the lure of the seaside has been tugging at me, but another bit of me knows what it’ll be like when the world switches back on. The lights! The throng! The smell of sweat! The prices! I need to be in it, of it, amongst it! The preciousss chaossss! Let me lick it in the face!

Hmmmm.

By coincidence, my friend has moved actually literally next door to a friend of mine who is constantly making things. I don’t really believe in coincidence anymore but the phrase is useful. The neighbour is an artist musician actor maker type who trained at the same drama school as my friend. She’s one of a few like that down that way. Curious and motivated people doing weird things stylishly. There’s going to be another little company in St Leonard’s before long, as well as one in Hereford. At this rate, with all my friends setting up shop all over the place like this, I’m going to need a fucking helicopter. I’ve already got strings in Brighton and Hereford and Yorkshire and Lancashire and Scotland and Wales as well as Sussex and Kent and The Isle of Man and Jersey and fucking Nassau and Switzerland. I’m spread out like jam. Even with Covid there’s not enough time in the day. I just have to choose one thing and do it. I never like that part of the process as much as I like the endless mess of possibilities. But today I was van man again. Yeah I know yesterday happened and I’m supposed to be digging back into my vocation. One thing at a time. GoT can wait.

We filled a zipvan with her boxes. We got it all in apart from the bicycle, which is an excuse to come back in a few days. “Magic things,” read one of the boxes. “Shakespeare books,” another. My personal favourite: “Shoes and tax”.

Yep. She’s an actor.

Now I’m back in London. This week rolled in fast. Blizzards tonight I’m told, although you wouldn’t believe it. I was in my T-Shirt when we loaded the van…

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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