It’s possible that I got drunk last night before I wrote my blog. The circularity. The bad short term memory exhibited. The extreme conclusions about half remembered people. You poor people.
I read it this morning because I wasn’t sure I’d remembered to post one at all. Open bottle of wine syndrome, I shall call it. “This is good wine. It’s open now. It’ll probably be spoilt tomorrow so I’m better off just having the whole thing now yum yum. Food? Food’s for chumps. More wine. Glug.”
Somehow I hauled this body from the sticky sheets and I dropped it behind the wheel of the car and my brain and hands drove it, assisted by good coffee, all the way to Alcester. How do you pronounce it? You make it rhyme with Ulster. The rest of it is in your head. On the way up my friend Lanna read me a chapter of a book called “Worn” on Radio 4 and it was really interesting. I slowly woke up. I had coffee. I sent her random messages of appreciation.
At eleven I walked into a school in order to watch a man I’ve met once before delivering a workshop about engineering. I sat on a table with 3 twelve year olds. Between us we made a semi-functioning battery out of an orange and some copper and zinc. They’ll pay me for doing that. I’ll send an invoice and money will hit my account.
Two hours later I drove the man who did all the work to Worcester and we laughed about the strange and wonderful life of a jobbing actor. He’s 53. His lady has got a new baby. “It’s one of the adventures I haven’t tried yet.” I asked him a few questions about the workshop. I’ll be delivering it twice on Wednesday in London you see. And once on Thursday. Pays to be prepared. That’s why I went up.
I’m back home now. I really spanked it on those roads. A man possessed. I didn’t know the XTrail could get up to those speeds. I wanted to get home to lasagne and peace.
I’m home now. I don’t think I’ll have anything to drink tonight after last night’s abomination. I’ve got to be super organised all of a sudden (ha) because it turns out that as soon as I get back from The Azores I’m off half cocked somewhere else to work like a train for three weeks in the blazing sunshine. Life, eh? Seems like the old random element has woken up again. And I fucking love it…
AlBarclay 