It’s quarter to one. I finished my last ghost tour some time ago, and drove home sober. There’s the end of a lovely little thing, and the beginning of some interesting creative partnerships..
I got home because I wanted an early bed, but I’m my own worst enemy in that regard. I decided I was hungry and then I needed to digest and probably it could have all waited until breakfast time. Then I got into bed, put the light out and just as I was about to abandon myself to sweet sweet temporary oblivion I woke up with the word “blog” on my lips. I do this to myself. Who knows why, but I do. Mostly it’s helpful, but sometimes I wonder if it might not be more helpful to have the extra time asleep.
Still. I actually don’t start work all that early tomorrow. 11am at The Globe and I’m gonna drive in so it’ll only be half an hour getting there. I’ll need to be up before that as I’m gonna want to talk to myself one more time to make sure that the things I’m saying are reasonably coherent and that I can find my way through the journey of it. “Actor and historian.” That’s how I’ll be characterising myself. My old history teachers would have their jowls wobbling at the very idea, but I’m transferring knowledge of the past that I’ve internalised and looked at from multiple angles, so I guess that’s it really. Corporate entertainer? Jobbing actor that hasn’t learnt to say no? All these things.
I think it’ll be fun. It’d be more fun if it wasn’t in the morning after a final night.
As soon as I’m done I’m off to do things in the Hampstead flat. Then next week I start a whole load more unfamiliar things. It’s just looming at the moment. Piles of things. My headspace budget is tight tight tight. I guess if I use this as a dump it’ll help the process. Because otherwise, like now, I’ll just find myself getting angry with myself for being too stubborn to miss a day no matter how tired I might be.
The wonderful thing is that I have this bedroom with comfy sheets and good paint and not much junk. Even if the rest of the flat is carnage at least I have this oasis. I can rest and dream here. And both of those options are high on my list right now, frankly. Next week I’ll find time somehow to get to Brighton, but for now it’s good to be under this roof in the good ship. The road is rushing by below me as ever, but the heating is on and the money from the ghost tours came in today so generally I’m in a pretty decent headspace. I just need to remember to write this earlier in the day more often, instead of leaving it until just as I’m drifting off to sleep. Brian once, years ago, said I could always get away with just writing the word “blog” repeatedly one day. This is about as close as I can happily let myself get. Bed.
AlBarclay 