Got it out

It was bright in the morning. I went off half cocked. I didn’t even realise how cold it was until I was halfway to the van but then I turned around as I wasn’t wearing a scarf or a coat and I was going to be in that warehouse for hours. I ran back up and grabbed some warmer clothes but no gloves. I own some perfectly functional workman’s gloves. Idiot.

Just a few slices, but there’s no first aid kit or running water. Gaffer tape is reasonably functional as a plaster but next time I’m not going to forget my gloves. Ow.

We got the rest of the stuff out of that warehouse, but we finished way too late for the tip which closes at half three. It’s a hard thing to throw something close to me, but the nature of the warehouse is going to make it easier. We are gonna have to throw away a lot of the Christmas Carol bits that have accumulated over the years.

We put it in there just over two years ago. I remember thinking as we loaded it in that we were probably taking more stuff than we needed. But we brought it all into the warehouse.

The roof leaks. There’s now a fine coating of mildew on everything. Lots of the books are damp. As for the serving platters, they are mostly gone to rust. It’s not the best place to store metal and paper, that warehouse. Problem is though, how do you keep London shows that are sleeping? You need a friend with a barn that’s achievable from London, or you need to have your own family pile. If there’s a barn and it leaks it’s still much better than no barn. Storage space is just way too expensive in a city where some people are asking for £80 a night for you to sleep on a mattress they’ve bunged into the cupboard under the stairs.

Tonight the van is sleeping outside my flat, full to the brim with damp furniture and plastic boxes full of set dressing. We will likely salvage some things – hopefully enough to run a bare bones version of the show in London next Christmas if it feels like the right thing to do. I guess anything else we need we will have to find in pre-production. It was suffering out in that warehouse anyway, and for the short term now we can move what we want to keep into Jack’s office, and throw the rest into the expensive tip.

I’m home now, having properly cleaned and savlonned my fingers, soaked myself thoroughly and made a chamomile tea. Bed is calling. One more day with this van tomorrow. Oh joy.

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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