I almost forgot rehearsal but thankfully was there in plenty of time for 8pm tonight. It’s Scene and Heard, so we have to squeeze in the work when it is convenient for everyone. David our director is an old hand at this but he does a proper job now, so we are confined to evenings. And we’ve drawn the short straw and got the late ones. We tend to finish at 10pm.
I got home hungry shortly before eleven and now I was just about to turn in and after winding out the day it is almost 2am. Sleep sleep sleep and quickly. Brian bought a Calvin Klein fitted sheet and rejected it as being too small for his bed, so I’ve put it on my mattress. It is like sleeping on a gigantic 1990’s pair of pants.
I will lie in it and dream of Marty McFly, of Friends and living parents.
This time of year always gets me the worst. The first daffs and then all the maybes and the comparisons and the things I didn’t say or do or understand, and the memories and the idiocy of grief. I always hope it’ll get better some time but pretty much as soon as we are into March I’m a wreck until the 23rd is done and done and done. I’m trying to take care of myself with juice and square meals, but then I’m up late and the flat is full of ghosts. We all have to put up with grief sooner or later. Time takes the screaming. Just leaves the throbbing and the occasional surge.
But it’s still a fortnight to DDay. I think it’s just because I’m up late. Sleepy drink and down into the elastic embrace of Calvin Klein. I’m enjoying this particular Scene and Heard. Milo is great fun to work with. David is an old friend. All is well.
AlBarclay 