Globe to Stoke

They let me park in the tiny little car park at The Globe this evening, which is a relief as I’m not on until about half nine and then I’m gonna have to drive to Stoke on Trent. I’m not gonna be in bed until 2am at the earliest, and it’ll be in a shared house so I’ll have the least appealing bedroom.

Right now I’m in The Swan with Ffion. About an hour to go before we are up. They fed me us with prawn brioche and have twice asked us if we want wine and twice been surprised we just want water. Professionals, dahling. Upstairs lots of nice rich people are having dinner and we will stride in shortly and be charming at them. Normally I’d be husbanding my energy for the show and then accepting the wine when it’s over. This time though I’m gonna make sure my energy can take me safely and swiftly up through the empty roads. It’ll be fine if they don’t do that late night bastard trick of theirs of closing all the roads for roadworks.

“Do you think we should go and lurk?” says Ffion. Maybe so. Maybe we should go and be available for the client…

Now we are in a tiny little corner of corridor between the cloakroom and the lift, next to a little adapted carpenter’s bench where I’ve spent hours of my working life now all told, waiting and listening to them eat and talk next door and holding on for someone to pop out and say “ok I think they’re ready now,” at which time we’ve got to go in and make them love us.

A new arrangement of lines and thoughts to remember this time and we might be on any moment so I’m gonna stop writing and blither lines until they give us the all clear…

Well that was lovely. A pleasant thing well received and then I was off onto the dark but mercifully open roads. With the help of Radio 4 and the world service, coupled with the fact I haven’t been keeping up with the news recently, the miles wore away quickly and now at just ten to 2 I am in bed and annoyed with myself for forgetting my toothbrush.

This has got to be one of the worst Airbnbs I’ve ever stayed in to be honest. It was booked by the company. Absolutely devoid of character, one tiny room with plastic sheets, a big telly and an IKEA print of a lion on the wall. All I have to do is sleep in it, and occasionally to to the loo. All the doors are closed with people sleeping. I found a tiny cubicle with a sink and loo, but I can’t open doors to see if there’s a shower behind one or a kitchen, as it is totally unclear which are the bedrooms and which are not. I was hoping for a kitchen for chamomile tea but I’ve already switched the lights on and off in someone’s room when trying to make light happen in the bathroom.

There’s a radiator switched on right next to my bed. I’ll need water. No cups or mugs though, and no towels! I’ve gone and got a plastic bottle from the car and bent it to fill from the tiny little sink in the loo that you can’t access until you’re inside and you’ve closed the door.

There are so many properties like this all over the world now, and a whole generation that can’t afford to buy a home.

I’m gonna try to sleep in it. I might get close to six hours if I can go down like a log. Fingers crossed. Ugh.

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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