Almost home!

I’m in a cross town uber at lunchtime. I’ve had three and a half hours sleep. Tonight I’m supposed to go to a party with a load of strangers that I went to school with. It’ll be nice to sit down. I’m supposed to be in a dinner jacket but I think given the state of my wardrobe that it might genuinely make more sense for me to bung on a regency frock coat and have done with it. If I show up in a suit I’ll be in their work uniform. And I’m not sure what I can cobble at short notice for formal dinner wear. I’m not even sure I have all the accessories for my kilt at easy access. Haven’t seen my sporran for a few months.

Last night I stayed up to do this audition tape. My phone kept running out of space, my brain didn’t work. Blue label and fatigue and total lack of time for prep. “Good acting through song,” says my agent, which is code for “atrocious singing done with charm”. I’m visibly reading my lines in the scenes to a tape of dear Tristan hamming it for England. Knowing the state I was in its amusing to watch through. It’s bound to crop up when they do “This is Your Life!”

I didn’t want to get an uber, as they are too expensive these days and so you might as well get a black cab. Three cabbies with the lights on drove past me in five minutes though. Three. I was livid after the third one. Absolutely fuming. I thought maybe I’d write an excoriating blog about how nobody should ever get a black cab ever again, but then I calmed down and realised I was just really tired.

Audition is sent. Now I’ve got some lines to learn, but I’m at least going to be home. I should just about have time for a bath and a power nap if I source my formal dinner-wear quickly and efficiently… Here’s hoping.

My heels are a bruise. My hands are raw. My head is full of wool.

A lie in tomorrow. Then a drive to Wales and learning lines lots. One thing at a time though. I’m working down the list. Next item on it is “Old School Dinner”. And I’ve got the blog done early!! *waves flags*

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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