Lou is in Bulgaria and it’s something like minus 9. Helps me remember that I’m just moaning when I say I’m cold here.
Another day invigilating and I’m back home and in bed before ten. These early nights still seem to be happening at the moment. It seems to make sense when there’s so much to do. I have to keep making money, plus sort the flat. The diary is filling up again and looking as varied as it ever does, and I’m not getting any younger so it’s good to preserve the energy levels for the bouncing around. “Periods of rest and periods of frantic activity”. That’s what I signed up for. Yes I still get annoyed when someone asks me if I’m “resting” when I’m out of work, as it feels like redundant slang. But also I get it. My true work can be all consuming. One needs a rest, even after filming. Fuck being a dancer. I’d be dead by now. So yeah, I’m kinda “resting” right now, even if that involves standing up in a concentrated room watching people take exams.
These little exam periods are always better served if I’ve got lines to learn, but as usual I’ve just dispensed the most recent load of lines. I’m in the process of reformatting the hard drive to make way for some Shakespeare as I’ll be up to Hay for one day shortly to jump back on the Merchant wagon with the delightful folk of The Willow Globe.
For now though, bed in a warm flat. So much to do but I’m done doing it now. Still trying to do a little every day that is home related rather than acting, earning or writing. I feel a tiny bit splintered but all is well and all is well and all manner of things is well.
Things happened today in the course of work, but I can’t really remember them or articulate them. I think I’ll just switch out, read my book for a wee while and pass out.
AlBarclay 