“No smoking. No farting. No sudden braking.” I’m not driving. Ali is. “We probably don’t need to go this way,” he says. We are going up the Champs Elysee. “How often do you get to do that?” he says.
Every day… Often a few times. It’s ace being the connection guy.
But not in an explosive van.
We nicked Dean’s propane canister about a week ago. I dropped it off on Pont Alexandra at 2am connected to a blowtorch. He wants it back. He lives in the warehouse yard and has barbies in his van. We needed a hotfix to dry the roads when we believed it wasn’t going to rain throughout the opening ceremony. Literally hot.
Ali and I are the only people on our miniteam who are successfully through checks and accredited. I didn’t know if I’d manage the thing solo, plus it was quiet at base. So In roped in Ali. About an hour ago we walked through the grounds of Grand Palais and then through an indifferent security, carrying a huge fucking great improvised blowtorch and nobody batted an eyelid.
I trust Ali not to crash and turn us into a fireball now the thing is in the back of my van. I can smell the propane but it’s probably just on my hands.
So I’m happily writing my blog now. Left the house at half 5 today and will leave at half 4 tomorrow. None of us sleep but I’m feeling very unsleeperated currently, and those heavy headed arseholes at CDM are my drop off tomorrow so that’ll be fun. I’ll finally get to meet Nico and I might need a shower afterwards.
Same old same old random. I’ve got Ffion on my team suddenly and I’ve been encouraging her to drive vans in difficult places cos she keeps doing it brilliantly and nobody dies.
The new game is working out what rules the venues have about deliveries. The more I establish where storage areas are the better I can drop what people want at times that suit me without disturbance. Apart from the CDM alphas who are too busy vanishing up their own arseholes to expedite things.
I’m loving this work drawing lines between people and shifting shifting shifting. There’s been an electric storm over the city for two days. Maybe that’s why they’re so uptight under the tower. The clouds have been spiking lightning, at times threatening and at times glorious. The world is doing sports, while thousands of sleepless men and women run around caring too much about ridiculous tiny things.
I’m almost home. Will seal the Luton, fill it with signs, seal it, fill in the papers, make myself wet, then faze into Dreamland. Should be asleep by eleven. Better than nothing. Irregular early mornings… yuk
AlBarclay 