Month: February 2024

Here I am, in front of a fire I just made. Hopefully it’ll take.

My bed has been colonised by two pussycats.

I went to Waitrose. Jempson’s is just round the corner but it’s closed on a Sunday and I needed a large amount of stuff. Jempson’s was bought by Morrison’s at some point but they have kept their individual branding and timings for now, until the combine finally harvests their individuality.

I bought a poussin. Had a little Sunday roast for one with the augmentation of a 2016 bottle of Medoc, half of which went in the gravy. I too am a slave to the idea we should roast something on a Sunday. Now I’m watching this fire I’ve made. Before I go to bed I’ll have to edit sound files and position cameras and lights so I can send a tape for a character described as “dischevelled middle aged man”. Could’ve been written for me. But tonight I’m gonna be here with the logs.

I grew up with coal fires. Trevor and Wendy had a log fire. “Why is their fireplace so wide?” I asked dad. “It’s for burning wood and it burns so quickly they need loads of it,” dad replied. I see his point. I’m getting through it. It is great to have a fire though.

Back at Eyreton I always had to set the fire in the morning. I am perhaps better at coal setting than wood setting, but fire is fire.

I’ve moved a beanbag in front of this. I’m gonna chill a bit, then wash and set up the camera and edit sound. Hopefully will have it all ready to ping tomorrow at dawn. They gave me a week for this one, and I want to celebrate them for doing so. I haven’t had headspace until now.

My impulsive eBay bidding has made more bulk for the kitchen. Lou bought a Champion juicer a couple of years ago, and I always look at it longingly when I’m round hers. Someone in Hebden Bridge was flogging one. Collection only. I made a modest bid and was surprised to win.

Champion first started making juicers in 1955, and this model has really stood the test of time. It weighs a ton. It’s made out of nylon and stainless steel. And it’s pretty easy to clean.

It chews your fruit. It sits there on your kitchen worktop reminding you to be healthy, and occasionally you shove a load of carrots and apples and ginger in it and it chews it all up for you. “Scientists” say that the chewing action is more efficient or healthier or whatever. It’s a great big appliance that you use once a month and think you’ll use daily. And this one is now mine.

There’s still a market for the things. I put down a bid on this one up to £75 and it came in at under £60 but I’ll have to go up to God’s country to get it. The other one that was on eBay sold for £82 so I’m happy with the deal. I’ve messaged the owner and asked if it can wait until after the 22nd when I’m not longer catsitting.

There’s a business on Etsy that sharpens the masticator blade. That’s how many of these are still in use around the country. I’m hoping my one won’t need sharpening though. It looks like it hasn’t seen hard use.

I got into juicing things when dad was fighting off cancer and took to eating nothing but juice and supplements for about three years. We would make a “green juice” with something a bit like a Champion for him, twice daily. It was a huge detox he was experiencing, but it certainly helped push him into remission for a while.

I’ll bring it into my flat, and the first week I will make loads of juice with it. After that I’ll either look at it guiltily from time to time, or sign up to some mail order thing where some guy shows up on your doorstep once a week with a bucket full of unwanted kumquats.

First I’ll have to get the thing from Hebden Bridge.

Eventually I got in the car. Two hours only this time back down to the woods. Last time traffic pushed it to almost six.

Now here I am in the peace and quiet. It is very odd being here without Lou. I keep almost saying things to her before I remember she’s back in Brighton with Tessy.

The cat mum is more a friend of Lou than of mine. I was pleased and surprised when I was asked to do this. When I first came down Lou jumped in with me and we had the first few days here together. It was lovely nesting here. It rained pretty much constantly so we stayed in and caught quick walks in the windows. It helped give me the ease I sometimes can’t find when I’m in somebody else’s home. It takes me ages to let myself cook in an unfamiliar kitchen, usually. In digs I’ll often blow way too much of my fee on takeaways rather than risk someone who loses their shit if you cook eggs in the fish pan or whatever. Here I’m already in the habit of cooking. I feel comfortable using the pots.

When I rolled in this evening the first thing I did after checking the cats was make dinner, and now I’m just remembering the quiet and contemplating an early bed.

The cats, of course, are fine. They’ve had someone else looking after them the last few days and really, with access to the outside world, they’d both probably manage if nobody was here. It’s nice for them to have company though. Someone to bring dead mice to. Someone to put down easy food and easy water and stroke them while talking nonsense.

Hopefully I’ll be able to settle here now until she’s back, and get some writing done. There’s plenty of stuff backed up and this peaceful place feels like a possibility at getting it squared off. I’ve got my iPad and Steamdeck and Kindle with me so it’s not like I won’t have the option of distraction. But with structured days next week I should get back home with less hanging over me.

A cup of chamomile and a blast of warmth from the electric blanket. I’m thinking it might be time to switch the heating off again… Not that the world is warm again round here. More to try and encourage it to be so.

The morning was glorious today. That’s undeniable. Bright sun and crisp light. I was walking the streets and over to the park. I’m hoping it stays like this, as I’ll be back to the wood and the cats tomorrow, after my expensive lack of a trip to Budapest.

Today has been pleasantly still. No real pressure to achieve. Somewhere in Wales, a letter has been posted telling me the consequences of an administrative fuckup that I’m still dealing with. I need an accountant. The court will likely hit me with a figure I can’t afford and needlessly make things harder in terms of the admin. My initial resistance was when I was quoted an eye-watering sum. Now I’m in trouble.

But the world is glorious. Brian and I watched John Wick 4, the ridiculous shooty end to a ridiculous shooty fantasy. Now I’m having my happy hot toddy and staring down the barrel of Dreamland.

And that’s a picture wrap for me. I rang my agent afterwards. “I’m glad they booked the second day… One day and it’s easy to totally forget you’ve done the job. You barely get to know anyone as there are too many people all at once. Two days and you start to feel part of things.” Fine. But gimme a week or two next time.

I’m happy to have gotten back on the horse. There’s plenty to take away from all this. Crafty things about comportment and approach to the moves and lines. Time at the coal face, doing the thing. Nothing beats live experience. And brief flares of friendship. I was wrapped before the guys I’ve been working with the last few days, and they were pushed for time, so there was no time for all the farewells and number swappings. But there’ll be a screening I’m sure. I really liked them. The script really lifts off the page. I think it’s gonna be a banger. Happy to be involved. Today I was largely just filling scenes but within that I found some moments to be proud of. Let’s see if they make the edit.

These are the jobs I hold on for. Sure it has been a strange long run and there have been setbacks aplenty. But I’ve found an agent where I am understood and happy, and from there I can be seen in the right context by the right people. Things are shifting. There’ll be more.

Back at home I am running a bath and just watched Cunk on Shakespeare, and after a brief moment in the bubble the real world is reasserting itself. I’m supposed to be in Hungary but that went in favour of today. So tomorrow I’m gonna rest hard and long before going back to the house in the woods and looking at the real things I need to do.

I left my mobile phone in my trailer, which is habit for me. Sometimes you’re on set outdoors or in public places and so forth, phone in your costume pocket is far from professional, particularly if it goes off. Also it spoils the line of the clothes, which I literally don’t care about in life but obsess about in work. I’m glad I didn’t have it as it let me pay attention instead.

We were in Gigi’s Hoxton, underground. There’s a little stage there. Last time I went was a fair few years ago, dressed as a mobster for the launch of Monkey Shoulder in the UK, part of a mad event by Coney. Before then, we did a few early Factory shows there. A happy place for me, then. I was surprised when I got out the car.

Glen my driver has a Lexus with heated seats and massage chairs. He picked me up half asleep just after six and I floated on a sea of massage all the way to unit base. I was expecting a beard trim but they liked the badger in full pelt. The whole working day was there, with many different shots on one long scene. Only a few minutes of footage, dozens of people, covering many angles, but it’s the scene where the three leads come together for the first time so care was taken. All three leading actors are delightful humans with a lot more screen time behind them than I have. It is always helpful to observe their ways on set. I’ve brought a great deal into my craft over the years from seeing how the most experienced cast members negotiate strange notes or awkward settings. Much of it, of course, is just knowing when it’s the right time to speak out and when it’s the right time to get on with it and let the team solve it.

And we have a good team running this ship. A clear and pleasant director, and production are similarly clear and carrying no negativity. It never felt unguided or wasteful. They got what they needed and moved on, and wrapped for the day on time. Based on the atmosphere on set, people are happy with where it’s all going and where it is right now. Good to be part of it. Films are a big old venture.

I’m happy to be doing the thing I set out to do, even just as a small part of things. My second bit of filming this year already. Maybe the dragon will bring me fortune. What a lovely day, but I’ve got to go to sleep as it is all happening again tomorrow…

First thing in the morning the first AD texted asking if I was okay with coming in for a second day of filming. I suspected this might happen at the read-through as there was an unassigned line right at the end and if I have it then it gives my character something as close to an arc as you can get with about 5 lines. I’m thrilled they decided to hand it to me. But it puts the kibosh on Budapest. So that’s a lot of money up the wall. Airport parking and flights. Oh well. I might still go by booking another flight out late on the 14th just because I’m fed up of failing to see Maté. But maybe it isn’t the time, once again.

A good problem to have, though. Two days on set is always better than one and the money for another day will more than cover the loss.

Lou and I woke up in sunshine finally. Our little house in the woods has been drenched and overcast for most of the time we’ve been there. To finally see the light come in through the trees was a tonic. Our headspaces are very very different at the moment. She’s having an extremely tricky string of unexpected setbacks, while I’m back doing what I blithely assumed I’d be doing all the time when I left Guildhall. I want to give it my full focus and try and push momentum, so half of my head is on these things.

Couple that with the fact that she’s a lark and I’m an owl. I will sometimes try to lark with her when I’m staying, but the last few days I’ve been enjoying the peaceful late night owling in that house, with the crackling fire, the night sounds and the delightful pair of cats.

Brian showed up with dinner and a Ukrainian friend this evening. We have just had a good chat about Dadaism. I ended up lending her Stoppard’s wonderful strange play Travesties. Now it is bedtime. Much earlier than usual. 6am car. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

The last of tonight’s fire and I’m sitting next to it with Rajah next to me. Keeping track of time tonight. I ought to be in bed in a more timely fashion than yesterday. No owl outside yet. Just the clicking and hissing of the fire. Peace.

I’ll have a week here after Budapest, but I’m back up to London tomorrow ahead of the filming. Lou and I watched Saltburn tonight in front of the fire. Another unusual and inspired British film. Cleverly cast and told so well. I really enjoyed the nuance in the dialogue both in writing and delivery. Some bright performances from less familiar faces.

Walking around this morning in a break from the rain, we found flooding everywhere. All paths led to puddles. With the January we just had this all must be wreaking havoc on crops.

This house was built on a footprint. That’s how they got to do it so deep in the wood. Likely a gamekeeper’s cottage or barn. My friend rents it now and has filled it with creatures. There’s peace and quiet. It makes a change.

On the flip side, three power cuts tonight. For the last one, everything was down for a clear minute and we were just lighting candles when it popped back on again. I suspect the rain brought a tree onto a line somewhere, but these days there are always alternatives. I did have a moment of realising how cut off we are here despite proximity to civilisation. No mobile signal, but strong WiFi. No phone line – it’s 2024. The power went and with it went all our comms. Loads of candles as our friend is woo-woo too. But even though I do workshops in schools highlighting our thoughtless dependance on the grid, for a moment I realised how much I take for granted in terms of communication. And that we have all lost an emergency band with the fazing out of analog signal. If I lived here all the time I’d have a radio set up like one of those nutjobs in America.

As it is it is all just part of an enjoyable break from the norm plus cats.

The problem with cats is they are so chilled. You can get swept up in it.

I’ve been sitting on this sofa for hours, in this quiet quiet home, and Carlos has been breathing into me as I sit. Behind me there’s an owl hooting, Lou has been sleeping for a few hours now, Rajah is out hunting again, and somehow I’ve allowed myself to be pulled into a purry little vortex of time. I can’t believe it’s suddenly past midnight, but it is. Time to write.

This is Carlos.

Carlos was sleeping all day under the duvet. Now he’s sleeping on me. He prefers warmth over breathing, it seems, and often pushes his face down into the cushions. He only eats wet food and he’s a total whore for strokes. He doesn’t care a bit about snacks.

This is Rajah.

“All ginger cats are mad,” says Frank on WhatsApp. I think he’s right in this regard. Rajah lives in the woods. He’s domesticated feral. This morning, Lou was up before me and discovered a mouse head, eyes wide open, and viscera spread artfully on that carpet – just outside the bedroom door. She was barefoot but lucky. I’ve stepped on such things before. The rain must be making for good hunting – flushing the poor things out of their flooded holes. This evening he came in with another one, small and pale, hopefully dead in his mouth. We were still awake this time and he fled back outside with his prize. I think he likes to get his meal out of the rain first. He only eats dry food, but it seems he’s eating the spoils of his hunting. I hope he doesn’t like birds too as I put a load of fatballs into the feeder. February is a bad month for naturally occurring bird food. That owl outside though is likely enjoying the flushed out mice as much as Rajah. It’s worth going out in the rain when it is as waterlogged as it is right now, so long as you eat mice.

There’s an Airbnb across the way, currently occupied but often empty. If we hadn’t gone shopping they would have been the only other people we were aware of. Who knows how the guy got planning permission for these two homes, but they aren’t on mains water properly as they are deep enough into the woods. You can drive to a Jempsons in five minutes so it’s not like I’m Joseph Campbell here. But it feels thrust away. I like it. And I’m very much enjoying the energies of the cat on my lap, the very vocal hunting owl, quietly sleeping Lou beside whom I will shortly be trying not to snore, and Rajah the ginger hunter. The log fire is dying, it’s late. I think I’ll put the kettle on for a chamomile tea.

I thought a trip to Heathrow and back from Rye on a Friday wouldn’t be such a big ask but it took me all day. I dropped Bella off with no issues whatsoever and then went home via mine. Into central London and back out again on a Friday. That was my mistake. Every queue you could imagine.

In a fit of misplaced optimism I trusted Google when it routed me through Croydon. Hours later I found myself at the turn off to Birch in Selsdon. Looking at the signs still there made me sad.

Birch was a lovely thing in theory. I got to know the one in Selsdon as I was a Panda there for quite some time. It is a vast building and the new people running it were lovely idealists. They were rewilding the golf course and trying to run a member’s club out of it. They made the most incredible swimming pool, imported a few pigs and cows and the like, slung hammocks in trees and invited a load of young businesses folk to join a gym and coworking space and so on, with bars and beanbags and restaurants building menus out of local produce.

It all very suddenly went into administration and then, shortly afterwards – more’s the pity – The House is St Barnabas in Soho, which also ran Birch – announced a sudden closure. That place was very special, but Grade 1 listed and renovations can be punishing when you have to use horse hair plaster. It was a member’s club that trained up and employed people from Soho who might have been slipping through the cracks. It always felt a little less bum than some of the other members clubs in that area. Birch and Barnabus both lying empty now, and I’m wondering what will happen to them.

There’s a little patch of Croydon that probably has rich bird life now because of what they did a Birch. Hopefully whoever takes over won’t make it into flats. I bet they do.

I’m in the woods again. Tomorrow I’ll just get to exist here with Lou. Today was spent driving, with my eyes streaming from contact lenses, I hoped, or perhaps this damn February cold.

Good food, good company, cats and recovery. Should be a great weekend.