I’m in a cheap hotel in Ruislip. This is more of a knocking shop than anything else really, but it was a toss up between a night here or a night at home and then trying to get here from Chelsea in rush hour. I decided to give myself a few extra hours sleep. It isn’t work in Ruislip. Just a favour for a friend, but still, I know my sleep patterns and London traffic and I’m not confident I would get up and get here in time if I didn’t go about it like this.
I wish I was still in Brighton. Lou and her toasty flat and the cutest cat and sheets made of nice material. But… I’m here, in another hotel room, and outside it is blowing and freezing. It’s coming up to ten and I’ll likely be asleep very soon. I’m not in late night mode and haven’t been since New Year. Normally I’ll be asleep by now. My routine was spun out when I got a text telling me one of my radio dramas was airing on BBC 3 at 7:30pm. I’m playing a fixer type – a type of voice I understand. I find myself tuning in.
I’m getting better at objectivity regarding my output. This week I’ve been trying to read back over these blogs again. It is unusual. Watching myself often carries unpleasant weight. Listening to myself? Even stranger. None of us sound like we hear. Still, I don’t mind what I did for that piece. But it ate into my evening checking, as I wanted to get a feeling for the whole execution. By coincidence I had a friend in it, and I reckon I can frame the director as such too, even though we met through work. We make our friends through the strange things we do.
I’ll wonder about this though, in years to come. Did I really stay in the cheapest hotel in Ruislip listening to myself play a fixer and some small parts in Bacon in Moscow, as the cold wind whistled on the glass?
I’m here with my book, my work and my Steam Deck. I think I’ll get into my lines for Tuesday a bit before bed. I have the illusion of momentum right now. Long may it last.
AlBarclay 