The first day of advent. I got out to go see Frank. He was scratching a Cabaret at The Museum of Comedy and I’ve never seen him perform before. I keep missing him, and didn’t want to make a habit of it. As part of his costume he was wearing a gorgeous velvet tail coat that came through my possession and didn’t fit me but perfectly fitted him. It was fabulous. He was riffing, largely through translated Jacques Brel songs but applying them to his own life. He ended up getting me up on stage to be a cow for him. It’s always weird as a performer being the stooge – you are almost honour bound to do it badly but you want to do it well. I let him lead.
I’m glad to have finally seen him work – I knew damn well he was full of charisma and being his stooge momentarily magnified my initial instinct that there might be a collaboration with him down the line. There’s always been a straight line between us in thought despite very different life experiences to this point.
Also a reminder that there’s a whole world of work out there if we make it. Funding is always the fucker there, and it is the admin hole that largely discourages me, but if you build it they will come, and in the end it’s just a few forms and a huge amount of luck.
It started at 5 and was over by six. Alexei Sayle was on next but I went home – didn’t have tickets and it was enough effort to get myself out in the first place.
Home is warm and full of cat. I’ve started a new advent calendar. Stage one towards Christmassing the flat. I’ve also recruited Frank to come the night before and stay on the sofa. Morgan used to do that, it is lovely and means one more hand and much more fun in the morning. I haven’t been recruiting hard this year but it’s good to wait until December. There’s a lot of tidying between now and then. But the machine is clicking into gear now it is December and the millennials are playing Whamageddon.
Forest bike into town and back out again, but my loyalty to you underdog has been damaged by them insisting I park it in an official parking spot. Somehow Lime have avoided that in Chelsea so far, and I tried to stop outside my flat next to a Lime bike but had to move on to a much longer walk back home. Loyalty is built by ease, and it looks like I’m gonna try the big boys for my zipping into town to see cabaret type needs.
Home now and it’s not too late. I’ve gone and got myself into Ted Lasso. Did some filming with one of the guys in it earlier this year and lots of people wanted to talk about it. It certainly makes an impression. I didn’t know it was about football but it has been perfect for my ADHD double lining. It’s playing now and I’m following it while writing. Already on episode seven. British made stuff, made nicely, well acted, well written. Over in Brighton I’m very aware that Lou is watching Bright Young Things. She wanted to watch it with me but it was a long-ago version of me and I find it hard to look back across the mess of mum’s death into the absolute ironclad optimism of that lad. I’m still optimistic. Got a bit more realism now. Still just as much of an eejit. I was in my twenties… Nice it’s on record I guess.
AlBarclay 