So yeah, in London I had Marlon, plus I was making sense of the kit. “We didn’t know what you were for in London,” says Page. “But you’ve been mister Aberdeen.” Phew But let’s see how they do tomorrow. It’ll be whatever. I’m ahead now. But weirdly I’ve been pulled off a job I could do.
One of my best friends has been having a terrible time in terms of internal monologue, and it peaked around the London dates of this job. I picked up her cat in the gaffer van to introduce to Frank. It’s fucked when your friends lose the plot. I’ve known it before. I’m waiting and hoping for balance again. I can’t talk about it without sadness or interpretation. But her cat just looks so ridiculously happy in temporary shelter with Frank. I’ve landed on a wonderful flatmate. And they have landed on an effortlessly delightful companion.
Little boyboy will be here a bit longer while my friend makes sense of the world. I am told by people I don’t know that she’s recovering. I hope she is.
I’m off to sleep. Sorry. can’t keep my eyes open
AlBarclay 