Month: December 2024

Danger. I’m writing in the bath. It’s 9pm. I think I’ll try and go to bed. Dark and quiet time and I’ve made peace with that. This is the hibernation station. Normally that would be completely uncomplicated, but Lou is here and her life is the opposite to mine right now. She’s been doing two shows today, people on the show are dropping like flies so there’s never a moment where she can relax and take stock. It’s full on for her and it’s full off for me.

Brian and I, we made Christmas as we so often do. It was the usual mixture of personalities, a bit less gelled than previous years, partly my own fault for getting smashed too early, partly just how it all fell together.

Ahh shit that’s Lou needing a pickup from Sloane Square. Out the bath and dryinh. Might leave the water for when I get back. She doesn’t feel safe walking the London streets alone. Bollocks.

—

Grumpy damp chauffeur picked up Lou. Grumpy damp chauffeur counted humans – (one) – but of course that was counter productive because of course “it’s always worse when there are fewer people” and suddenly there’s a prism where the safest and quietest streets in London are still a threat.

—

Now grumpy damp chauffeur is in a hot bed. I put the blanket on so I could go from bath to bed, but then suddenly the road beckoned and I found myself wishing the battery issue with Bergman was more than merely my auto handbrake trying to be cleverer than people.

What are we unleashing, as we give territory to these things? The stated intention is to make them cleverer than us, but when things get cleverer than other things they work out how they can consume them for their own benefit and do so. Right now my auto handbrake is a fucking moron, but in time there might be ones that are trying to kill people instead of just inconveniencing them in the name of one of the most powerful of the new gods, the cloying masked oppressive face of SAFETY, RAVAGER OF FREEDOM, surrounded by zealous and worthy priests and priestesses.

I didn’t drop my phone in the bath at the start of this blog. I might have. It was a silly risk considering how much use I get from this thing. I’m glad I didn’t have something preventing me from doing it. “It seems like you have the phone in the bath with you.” Like when I type into Waze when I’m driving and I have to answer extra questions and spend more time telling it I’m a passenger before it lets me update. There was a friend of Jack’s who went on and on about the fact I cycle without a helmet. Made everything weird. Obedience over practicality. I took a Lime bike on spec the other day. They could kill the whole economy of that by making cycle helmets legal. And it’s the worthiness of average citizens that has allowed this general creep of loss of freedom which has become a fascist rallying cry because the people who like people keep getting so fucking needlessly worthy and passive aggressively controlling about it.

Anyway. This has rambled because I’m tired tired tired and in bed with one eye open in a hot bed after bath-interrupted and a little drive through Chelsea. Have a lovely New Year, darlings.

Picked up Lou fine from the station this evening in Bergie. I reckon I can use him even with a tired battery, just so long as I don’t park him on a slope. It’s hard to avoid the things these days, but I really never want another car with an automatic handbrake. I’ll take it if it’s an incredible car. But not if there’s a similar option with something I can pull.

This cold day in this burnt end of 2024 and I’ve been trying to exhaust the cat. It woke Lou up by sniffing her eye at 3am. She’s still working every day with this kid’s show. The tech is playing up a wee bit and one of the swings has swung into FIVE parts now. Maybe that’s a musical theatre thing, maybe it’s because its a punishing schedule for a long show. But… there have been a lot of people out of commission over a short run, even for just a show here and a show there.

When not playing with Boo it was a spot of tidying, cooked a nice breakfast and YES, back to Baldur’s Gate. Brian is way ahead of me now with my completionist tendencies. I’m gonna have to speed up or I’ll still be in act one next Christmas.

And this evening we watched The Holdaways. We’ve tried a couple of times in the past but it looked a bit earnest and then it wasn’t really the right time of year. The right thing at the right time. It’s beautiful. Some really strong work from all the cast, even the younger kids. Made for cinema with great old school camera and looking lovely with rich costume design, making use of a college campus abandoned for the Christmas period in deep snow, telling a story about three humans, with rich comedy and observation. I love a movie like that. Wasn’t sure I’d have the attention span for something thoughtful but it held me throughout.

Now we are winding down, post chamomile. Brian is in the Gauntlet of Shar. I’m about to get on a duergar boat. Boo is occasionally rolling around with us while we take breaks. All is well. Quiet, but well.

It had all been going very well. A mix of adulting and childish things. Coming back into the world but in a weekend way. A spot of BG3 in the morning. I added my old friend Samantha to the party. She’s voice and mocap for a great big red barbarian devil so it’s kinda fun hearing her swearing about things and helping me kill baddies. Then Frank came over and we snacked a bit and I returned his water bottle. Then my accountant and friend called and I think I have a pathway to finally sorting the shitshow I call my tax situation, which has fallen through ADHD shaped holes for way too long. I just want to be up to date… A bit of work, and then probably every penny I have.

Then I went to pick up Lou from work. An easy thing to do. No con charge at the mo as it’s festive season. I found a good place to pull up on Belvedere, on that slope looking up at the IMAX. Switched off the engine listening to The Coming Storm. Only about 8 minutes there before Lou got in. Key in the ignition, lots of flashing lights, no ignition. The red light for the auto handbrake was off. The brake pedal was seized. The collision warning lights were on. And it wouldn’t let me start. Radio still worked. Headlights etc fine. Just no ignition.

hmm

Loads of coaches going past. Crowds of drunk people getting in and out of Ubers.

I go into the settings, reset to factory. This is a SOFTWARE problem. The car is 2016. This sort of thing is only gonna get worse.

I get RAC on a travel pack with my bank. It’s not cheap. My accountant tells me I should cancel. I don’t. Because I use it. It comes with multi trip travel insurance and I’m swanning around all over the place all the time. It gives me some peace of mind even though I know for absolute certain that if anything ever went wrong abroad the fuckers would swindle me out of any payment due.

I rang them. “I reckon I’ll be here until late night,” I tell Lou. I expect about two hours minimum for check up.

It’s the automatic handbrake. That’s pretty clear. I’ve always hated the fucking thing. I hate it with a passion. It is an awful idea. It makes you forget manual handbrakes when you’re driving vehicles that need them, and it does it when the car wants to, not when you want to. Sure you can drive through it, you can tell it to go on off a bit, but it is not clever, it is not situational and it makes you lazy.

David from the RAC calls very quickly. “I’m just coming from Peckham. Be with you in twenty five minutes.” I describe the fault. “It’ll be the battery, I reckon.” “I’ve driven it loads recently.” “I bet I’ll have you back on the road in no time.” “I hope so mate.. We’ll see.”

Half an hour later the engine’s running. “You’ve got the light back in your eyes,” Lou says.

That. Fucking. Handbrake.

So I was parked on a slope. Takes power to run the handbrake. Car knew it needed the brake to stop slipping. Battery was low but not critical. Safety feature, in case the battery DOES get critical: it seizes the footbrake long before the battery is at zero and then refuses ignition. There was no choking, no trying, no flooding the engine. Just a refusal. For fucking safety. If I had a manual handbrake it wouldn’t have happened. Ok sure so I’d have found out some other way that my battery was old and on its last legs. But what a bugger of a thing. I even thought to try and bump start it in reverse down the hill before hitting the car below me. No dice. Can’t get the brake off. So you can’t even bump these new cars. You can’t with a Nissan.

Euro Car Parts has the right battery for 174 quid. David checks it and agrees it’s the right one. I can order it, it’ll come next Thursday probably, I’ll get it stuck in when it comes. Either a YouTube job or if it looks as complicated as the windows I’ll take it up to my boy at Culvert Tyres and see if he can do it for me. Not the worst.

A slightly hairy drive home as the other shit thing my car does is cut the engine at traffic lights to save emissions. I’ll tolerate it even though I reckon the ignition fumekick pays it back for short stops, but I don’t want it to happen now in case it refuses to kick in again, so I’m overrevving it at lights. I haven’t got a charge pack in Bergman and don’t want him to die in traffic. Got some jumps somewhere in the flat… Might just go to Halfords if it’s open tomorrow and let them do it. Shouldn’t be more than £250 which is a kick but not fatal.

Poor Bergman. It might be time. I got him home.

This morning we took Boo to the vet.

When Brian picked her up, he immediately understood that the person she used to live with had been sad for some time. I understood that Boo was a breeding mum retired at 6, and just took it in my stride that she is tiny. Clearly a breeder for tiny kittens.  He’s messaged them with numerous questions about vaccinations and is she spayed and so forth, but nothing has been forthcoming, so we took her in this morning to try and make sense of things.

She does not like going in the box and she’s determined and clever. It took Brian and I great patience and fortitude to get her in. We had to hunt her, close doors, chase her out from under beds, use towels. She is determined, wriggly and cunning. It was as much chance as anything else that, mid attack, I got her back feet in. Then it was done. She didn’t yowl once in. And off we went.

The vet reckons she’s barely one year old, if that. “She’s very like my cat you know. Very like her. She’ll go a bit brown in summer. I think there must be a bit of Bengal in there. They live forever, you know. I reckon you’ll have her twenty years.”

She’s barely a year old but she’s had a litter. “Definitely something going on down there.” She was a teenage mum. Maybe with a close relative. I’m glad we got her. She’s safe now.

A basic worm pill and check up and she was home. She’s not happy with me, but she’s been in my bedroom, all day, sleeping in Lou’s patch. Lou wasn’t involved in the kitnapping.

Pickle would have left me the stinkiest poo imaginable plum in the middle of my pillow, so I’m lucky to have this little black fool. We don’t know her birthday, can get no information, so Brian asked the vet when his birthday is. 9th August. So yeah, she’s a Leo now, officially. Just over a year old according to the law. And that’s that. And she’ll still be going when I’m seventy, probably. Well there we go. A cat is for life, not just for winter.

I’m happy she’s found a playful warm home full of friendly humans.

What a day. Absolutely nothing achieved. Nowt. I walked to shop and purchased milk. Had a few coffees. Mostly lay on a beanbag with my steam deck playing Baldur’s Gate 3. Minor spoiler alert. I have no regrets. Brian was sitting next to me on the sofa playing the same game on his xbox. Periodically we would compare notes. I’m trying to rescue a druid, he’s killing gnolls. Occasionally I give him some advice on levelling up, as I spent far too much of my childhood reading Dungeons and Dragons rulebooks. Lots of the information is still there somewhere. “Make sure your wizard has magic missile. It’s brilliant for finishing people off and interrupting enemy Spellcasters”.

It’s an incredible piece of work. It really is. Well scripted and with levels of reactivity and choice going deeper than anything I’ve played before. Quite rightly winning awards all over the place, I honestly wonder if anyone will ever beat it, as the medium is commanding such incredible budgets that most of the studios have cautious people in the boardroom taking all the joy out in the name of safety. This and the fact that all the scared offended “anti-woke” types have started crying about things like the fact there are gay people in games.

Lou is home earlier than usual and will be working two shows tomorrow. I’ll have to actually do some tidying tomorrow as well. Brian and I ate Christmas food all day today and that’ll happen tomorrow as well. There’s plenty to get through. I’ll see how long I can avoid shopping. Lou had some heated up nut roast and carrots and parsnips and there’s plenty more where that came from. Oh Christmas. I’m bushed.

We stopped gaming just for a little bit in order to watch Home Alone. I’ve never watched it. It’s joyful in its way. Pesci is just delightful. Great cameo by John Candy. I normally watch Die Hard or Muppets so I’m happy to mix it up, and you have to watch that sort of thing this time of year don’t you?

This nub of the year. A strange time. A cold and dark time. Let’s all laugh at festive torture.

I’ll probably be up a few more hours, almost certainly going back to playing BG3 next to Brian. Gonna persuade some spiders to kill goblins for me so me and my druid bear friend can set back a load of fundamentalist mind controlled cultists. Just a normal Thursday.

I remember at university when people tried to randomly make you care more about their shit than some other rival’s shit. This was me coming into my adulthood. We didn’t all get it but those of us that did, there were factions – there was so much noise. If I went to one person’s party it turned out to be at odds with someone else’s party. “How dare you go to Mulchy Cranbrook’s bedroom escape party! You should’ve gone with me to Perineum Slabnut’s evening at The Purple Turtle.”

I’m finished with a Christmas that went well. No unexpectedly tricky people, nothing showy. Just another Brian And Al Christmas. We try and find the lovely ones who slipped through the cracks. We find them.

Still it was fucktons of people but we made food and now we will have to establish how to make continued food out of the leftovers tomorrow, because that bird was barely touched. I think that I’m gonna have to make a whole load of soup. Tomorrow will be a scratch point for me and most humans in the world to make a vegetable turkey soup thing. I can likely start with club sandwiches and then just use all the things I’ve been left.

“Did you think you would end up with such a trans positive Christmas?”

I love the question cos that’s just the way my life has fallen. I didn’t know the extent to which trans people needed to have humans not be wankers to them. Without any flag, we had a good number of people in various stages of transitioning and I don’t think there was any moment where it was the topic. I know Mel and I, my longest collaboration, we’ve often felt that the whole notion of gender is a construct. She agitates towards traditionally masc things while holding her fem, I shift to fem in my solutions and identifiers but hold my masc. It’s all a game, largely. We had a wide variety of people today and they shifted through the palate of gender presentation. We had a lovely saffer, that horribly alpha culture. He managed not to explode at the abundance of shifted humans. It was a safe room, thankfully, as I had been concerned going in. It only takes one person being a cunt for the whole thing to go south.

Happy Christmas you maniacs. Thanks for touching base with me. Boo is going mental next to me as I write. Lou is to my left. I’m on my back. I want to snuggle Lou and somehow stop Boo. All at the same time. I’m sure I can fool Boo out to the living room so she keeps Sarah up not us…

I’m one eye open. there’s nothing left but noise. Enjoy your time between Christmas and New year, your Malcolm. I’m off to see if I can invest in play to improve my sleep.

Up late for Jesus. Eating a bit of his body, drinking some ribena. I’m not sure transubstantiation works on ribena to be honest. I’m willing to trust the little wafers for my fix of holy cannibalism but if it’s not wine it’s just a sugary drink, my Godvampirism won’t be sated.

Nevertheless it was glorious. Chelsea Old Church. Hymns in exactly the key that is easiest to play on organ but literally nobody can sing them in their register. A huge congregation of tipsy rich people pretending to be devout. Vast old money, trophy wives and idiots like me, all mixed in together. Alex the bass from Othello sings in the choir there.

Last time I went to that church for that second was probably thirty years ago now and the vicar at the time gave us all a right bollocking for only showing up for that service. It put me off enough that even though it’s fifteen minutes walk from mineI sacked it off for a few decades and just focused on the sprouts.

Brian and I have been prepping. We peeled potatoes, trimmed veg, peeled carrots. I made two Mushroom Wellingtons, some cauliflower cheese and some vegetarian roast tatties as most of them will be an apocalypse of liquid goose. I stuffed the turkey and baconned it and wrapped it.. I’ll chuck in the chipolatas tomorrow. There’s a lot to do still, plus picking up in the morning. I’ll get underway when I can. Need sleep now.

I’m happy to be shriven. Most of the church I’ve done recently has been Catholic mass which is comforting and Latin and there are nice smells. This had some modern language in the creeds and so forth, still using the “trespassers” version of the lord’s prayer which is comforting, largely a pleasant service. The vicar kicked off his sermon with a Shakespeare quote, threw in some casual ancient Greek… I was best friends with him by the time he had finished what was a very nicely balanced thought for the day. A few assumptions and generalisations but the guy believes in God for a living so I cut him some slack. We all sang “little town of Bethlehem”. “Not so fucking still we are seeing it lie right now,” one of my neighbours pointed out in a whisper. “We were in the naughty section,” Lou said on the way home, but I have a feeling our whole section was the naughty section. Most of the people around us had already had plenty of the Blood of Christ. The ribena probably stopped them tipping over the edge.

Happy happy Christmas you glorious people, wherever you may be. zzzzzz

Sorted out my wardrobe door with an impact driver. It’s a temporary fix, probably should have done it weeks ago, there’s nothing like having a girlfriend over. She just made me clear up my laundry. Tomorrow she’s not working and I’ll be in prep mode for Christmas. Should be fine. My processes might be scrutinised but they’ve worked for me thus far, they can be explained or adapted as necessary.

Picked her up again from the tube. That’s habit forming. Twenty years or so and I’ve walked it every time. Made good friends with the 170 bus. Spoiling her rotten. Largely I’m post bath and in my slacks, but she’s worked 73 hours since last Tuesday. She ain’t paid by the hour. She’s knackered. I can get off my lazy bum and pick her up from the station even if I don’t want to.

Brian and I purchased Christmas today. No vacherin which is a great disappointment, but nobody has it. Last year Waitrose did a big push so now nobody get it for blood or money. Fuckers. We bought the rest of it. I got home shaking from having forgotten food, and consumed an entire packet of quails eggs with celery salt. We have three more. I stopped shaking.

The flat is full of food. We tried to be restrained but it wasn’t quite as successful as it might have been. We have stuff. Much stuff. Tomorrow I’ll be a one man crusade for blinis and vacherin. We will be ok without, but let’s see what’s possible.

I’m knackered, the tired of the idle. A man who has just tidied a bit, gone shopping, consumed a dozen tiny eggs and chatted to a few tiefling over his Steam Deck.

Lou is home, home is warm, I’m looking forward to another night of weird dreams and catintheface. In keeping with her black cat look, she chooses her moment well, only interrupting the dream when it goes weird.

Bed feels really like the right place to be. Christmas approacheth. The light is returning…

Christmas is coming. Tomorrow Brian and I will go shopping for the big old loads of stuff we will need. I’m tempted to go with high quality disposable plates as it looks like we are in the twenties numberwise, but possibly Brian has plates and industrial cleaners at Kingswood. Tomorrow is plan day. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Today being Sunday was given over to playing.

Boo got the lions share of the play. She likes chasing her bouncy stick thing. I also got my Steam Deck out and tuned back into Mass Effect 2, but with Christmas coming and the fact I’ve been looking forward to it for ages, I’ve just set the thing to download Baldur’s Gate 3. And this is gonna get geeky now.

Although I’m sad suddenly. I think I’m aware that I’m about to have a load of people over for Christmas many of whom I don’t know. I was supposed to be going off and being sociable this evening and even though it would have been restorative I just couldn’t face it. Saving up my energy for Christmas day and the early morning drive around and all that will follow.

Last night when Lou got home I was smashed out with red wine and pretended to be grumpy in the hopes she wouldn’t rumble me. Siwan and I reflexively did the bad vooze thing because we haven’t seen each other for ages and our entire friendship has revolved around pubs and clubs – she’s the ghost tour, and she’s the other dancing unicorn. We had fun but it didn’t leave me very capable of complete sentences. She went off to volunteer for You Me Bum Bum Train, which is slave labour and they even encourage you to drink in the bar after. Well done them I guess, but it feels like they might have vanished up their own arseholes.

Here we are at the dark part of the year. The light is finally returning, oh glory, praise be. But it’ll be a while before we notice. I’ll try and make light, but I’ll need to stoke the inner fire first. Christmas is energetically expensive with the madness I invite. It’s gonna be lovely as always. But it’s gonna be busy this time and I’ll get full use out of Bergman…

I was supposed to go out today. Didn’t manage it. I’m ok with that.

Early bed.

Last night Boo discovered so many different forms of disruption. By the time the night was done, I was thoroughly discombobulated.

Tonight Brian and I watched the first 2 Taken films. In Paris over summer with my decent french and my decades on events I did find myself saying “I have a very particular set of skills”. People quoted it to me. I found myself associated. Watching it, I can kinda see why. Bulldog etc. I haven’t shot anyone yet though.

Right now that set of skills seems to involve helping my beloved from the horror of walking from Sloane Square to my flat, even if in the morning she wants to walk round the block.

I’m sleepy.

Anyway, Brian and I had a lovely day today. A chilled day. We ate sourdough and watched movies and Siwan came over. For a long time Shoe and I sorted out the wonderful costumes that might have gone haphazard into my attic. I’ve got some really clear offerings now, and they are all well labelled and ready to go. A very good use of a day.

I’m knackered now, and Lou will be home soon. She’ll be tracking to bed and I’m already most of the way there.

It’s a new thing, sharing space like this.

She’s working on a show where the principles keep ducking their responsibilities. It’s in a major venue and they aren’t household names. It’s fear and laziness. Really hard to countenance so early in the run. Lazy arses. Just get up and work surely? I can’t be compassionate right now as it just smacks of entitlement. Show up, do the job, remember there are hundreds of people who wish they were doing the job instead of you, grow. That’s the pattern surely?

I’m tired and full of noise. Maybe I think I’m Liam Neeson in Taken. I need to get trim as it’s a part I totally get. Not one I have provision for in the attic. “Ringmaster” “Austere” “Footman”. I tried to categorise before putting bags up in the attic. I think I’ve got a handle on it now. There are some shapes I can throw. And I can make things happen for others too. Slowly. Over time.