Having had a little bit of a tickly cough for the last few days I was somewhat dreading this morning. I’ve a costume fitting on Monday and someone from the production company had to come round to my flat in the morning and stick a cotton bud into my tonsils. “What happens if I get that bonus red line?” I worried.
Email just came through and I’m off the hook. No nasties. Just too much snoring. It was an unusual experience though to stand on my doorstep on a sunny day and have a young woman ask me “which nostril do you prefer?”
That nastiness having been completed, I bundled myself down to Brighton, picked up Lou and we spun out to St. Leonards. Compared to Brighton and Eastbourne it’s pretty calm over there down Hastings way, although I guess it was only about two days ago that they dumped an unprecedented amount of silage into the sea there so that might have discouraged the London tourist crowd. I like the feel of it there. My friend has got a posse of outspoken and positive humans there, and we briefly joined that coterie for her birthday. Then we hived off. I have barely had any time to see Lou recently, and it’s not going to get any less busy in either of our existences in the run up to Christmas. My social anxiety was on full power, so smalltalk was not really in my capacity, but we had some good if snatched conversations before Lou and I went and grabbed pizza at Rustico.
I’m tired today though. It was just volunteering with Scene and Heard last week, but the responsibility is wearing. By half six I was already running out of fuel, so we found evening coffee in an old swimming baths down by the seafront. They’ve converted it into a huge underground skate park. Still some of the mosaics are in place. A huge cavernous space, and I’m glad they’ve found a way to make it accessible for people. That area of St Leonard’s is populated widely by alternative minded people living their best life.
Hot sun all day there, but it fades fast at this time of year. Suddenly despite recent coffee I was cold and shifting to sleepy again standing above the grey tide and the shingle. We bundled back into the car and hit the mission back to Brighton.
Now I’m back in Lou’s cosy home, the sea to my left, the cat to my right. The Saturday night drunkies are out on the streets shouting and I’m very glad not to be amongst them. I am going to sleep well, sleep firmly and every time I snore I’ll get punched which will be good for my throat.
AlBarclay 