The thing is, Giles’ lady might have had a baby today. She was due.
He was due to do this:
Studio work. Presentation. Autocue.
Look into the camera and read the flickery words.
I woke up and rose at bastard o’clock. The bakery wouldn’t serve us coffee when we left Kemptown. We hit the road and drove through the gloaming. Lou had a train at 9.10. I had to be at NYT for 9.45. To do what?
The roads were clear until we got to Kingston and from there every fucker that could fuck fuckery was fucking it. Speedlimit 20 drivers competed with can’t turn righters to create a monstrous stressbag of nonsense compounded fully when a white van chose to drive into a Volvo to gain three metres of road, in front of us, before a right turn. It takes two idiots to make a crash. There they were. Meaningless. You can be in a hurry, you can drive positively, but you HAVE to constantly guage the other drivers. I like people, but driving brings out the stupid. I even tend to like people who might be mistaken for stupid by the morons who support the nonsense IQ benchmark via Mensa tests etc. I have often said in the past that the true intelligence test regarding Mensa is when they tell you that because you matched the boxes you can buy a subscription to the clever people newsletter. If you buy it, you’ve lost. “I’m a member of Mensa” is the first clear poker-tell that you’re dealing with a cabbage. You can also spot them on the road. We found our way through them, Lou got her train and I got to the shoot in time.
Giles. If anyone I know is clever enough to absolutely excoriate the whole concept of Mensa, it’s Giles. His wife had no babies today thankfully. So he just used his vast humble intellect and cheerful clear ability, and he knocked a training video out of the park, unruffled and slick in a benign but slightly baffled young room full of media types.
I was paid to sit in the studio with him and watch him be wonderful on the offchance his wife went into labour. Watching him I honestly thought that there was no way in hell I could’ve done what he did today. I’d have done something, sure, and the thing I did would have been great. But the whole damn result would have been utterly different. And his technical nous saved hours. The right man for for the job. Open, full of kindness, full front attack, unbruisable. I know why I was in reserve, but I’m glad it was him in the line of fire.
As soon as it ended I shot down south and watched Black Crowes at the Brixton Academy. I’m embarrassingly unattached to their music, but they put on a good show. ‘Papa was a rolling stone,” they covered, and it really helped me crystallise their influences. A great birthday present after a strange day of doing my craft but not…
I’m happy at the moment. Very happy. I really like doing my thing…