Humbug

No Lou. She timed her exit very well. It’s getting busy. Busy busy busy.

Jack and I rose in the morning. Jack had made coffee and breakfast. Frankly, he saved my life. I hauled myself from bed and contemplated a beautifully poached egg, and some crushed avocado with marmite on toast which you should never ever knock until you’ve tried it.

We drove to the venue.

The Auberge du Nord is, as you’d expect, on the northern side of the island. It’s mostly cliffs up there. The bulk of the people live in the south. The north is largely cliffs and you can’t build permanent structures, thank God. “Stop the Urban Sprawl,” shouts a petition that is already too late near our digs. They are going to build on more of the cow fields. It’ll mean more traffic on overcrowded roads. Bad new change bad. I can understand it though. This place has managed to stay unfucked. Litter gets picked up. The beaches would be unrecognisable to anybody from Brighton. They aren’t covered in packaging.

We went to the venue and we did a show. I can’t remember it. I think it went well. We went home and straight to bed after. Two hours later we were back in the venue.

I tried to snooze. I honestly thought it would work. It didn’t.

We did another show. Yeah, details… So there were humans… Oh! Yeah we had a load of fucked paramedics. This was their night away from being on call. They were dressed up in Dickensian costume. One of them was an utterly terrifying human. He’s probably going to turn out to be a serial killer in about ten years. I hope not, but Christ he made my skin crawl. We also had lots of teachers. I love all the teachers. They aren’t killing, and I didn’t feel they were groping either, which feels like progress. It’s the end of term! They are very very happy about this. Their happiness seems to mostly involve alcohol.

But. It’s done for the day. And I’m knackered. And I did nothing but show things all day. Lou was great. She helped me not disappear up the arsehole of this thing…

Humbug

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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