It has been trying to break, this weather, but without much success. Grey skies and spots of rain but the promised storm did not come and as I write I’m sitting outside my local cheap Nepalese place having just failed to consume even half of my food because I’m just too knackered to eat and it’s still hot even though the sun has set.
It could be worse. Nena works alone in a shipping container at La Chappelle, and for the last month it has been an oven. Now she’s done something to her leg, and went to the doctor. They’ve been creative and generous with their painkillers in a way that surprised me. There’s horse tranquilliser there, and opium, and muscle relaxant. She shouldn’t feel anything after that lot. I’d be dead to the world for a week. Right now though it hasn’t touched the sides for her. 3% less.
I’m just feeling slow and with tender knees. I’m lucky my body is playing nicely with me. This job has strangely helped my fitness. Once I remembered Wendy Allnutt’s guidance and stopped leaping like a gazelle from the loading bay because I could, my knees stopped hurting so much from repetitive stress and I think my body is largely responding well to regular careful physical work in the heat. Wendy helped me get used to chasing tension. Thanks to her and now Lou, this weird body of mine with its inverse vertebra and pronations can stay loose under pressure. It’ll be going from being a tiny cog in the biggest event in the world to being a tiny cog in the biggest Shakespeare company in the world.
So … I’m continuing my usual me thing for now. And it’s glorious. And knowing I’m about to stop means I can push through.
The venues are no longer high security so I can drive into the compounds again. There’s still all sorts of hijinks at the gate but largely today I was able to drive right to the containers and access them once the supervisor explained that accreditation was better than a SAP. Luxury.
I really regret that I can’t see this event to the finish, but this was always going to happen. Still, it feels wasteful now I’ve built relationships with people and developed an understanding of their needs. I can get the DEF things to where Herless needs without him having to move. I can get into the LCO lockup and continue to enjoy my french interactions with nicotup even if I’ve never met him personally. He got the late night jonk under the Olympic flame. He’s the only French install manager who makes jokes in french with me but it’s because he’s seen me get the job done no matter what. I took the metro with his fifteen metre thing when the roads were closed for a race. Nena, too, knows I can get things where she needs them. Ditto Scott and Meh at CDM. Sean and Mike now know I’m gonna make fucking certain they actually want the thing because as often as not they just don’t and their security are universally shite. Although I had to send that gazebo…
Marcus and Tamara things are easier now and their venues don’t have asshole security. Unlike Stephane where I had to wait for him even with all the right passes on foot. Everyone loves Pawel. Some of his security are bullshit but largely a well informed lot. Alex and Alexis and Luc – all very French and good humoured. Not very forthcoming about showing me their logistics area at the start, but for my next big event like this I know exactly what sort of questions I’ll be asking in the first week. I need to practically know all the areas I can know, and do it early before it gets hectic. I was trying though, even back with Roadkill and Bob I knew it would be better to get into the complex while security was low and learn it, so I could operate more efficiently when security stepped up. Just a few days ago Michel saw the effect of me hitting a venue without knowing where the logistics area was at BCY. He plugged in with me to be helpful when his real intention was to catch a bit of cheeky basketball. He saw how I’m often caught in the middle with one hand not talking to the other, and was so good as to halve a load I had been very much not enjoying carrying. We stood around for ages just to wait for someone to take us through a door we both knew we would need to go through. Had we gone there without an escort someone would have panicked. But … this is the game I’ve been playing. Appear as lawful as possible, and keep an eye on the workarounds. I now know too late where the BCY storage area is, although Fernando never responded to any of my messages and still hasn’t given me the code so even when I’m gone, Fi will not have enough information for an efficient drop.
But… these people, these venues, this madness… I’ve been smashing this and the worst of it is past. But for the fact I’ve been pissed off with obstructive fuckwits, I’m happy. My last few days will be more about the warehouse than the venues though – so much stuff is coming back, but not enough consumables. Thieves. Atrocious. We lost so much stuff at the closing ceremony for the flag poles, and we will need it all again, and it was hard enough to source the first time…
But bed is here again, so hot despite 2 fans… Ahhh summer though. I love thee.
AlBarclay 