I was very glad not to be working today. Had wine on an empty stomach yesterday evening and it is something I just mustn’t do anymore. I barely remember my evening, although it involved sending an overconfident WhatsApp pitch and inexplicably having it accepted. And writing an oddly angry blog which I’ve subsequently taken down for review.
I’m rolling into the weekend with Boy in Camden, but for today I just needed to get myself into a state of mind where I could be at a wrap party for a lovely job and not make a fool of myself.
It was over at All Star Lanes in the Westfield Centre, and Claire and I went together. I couldn’t bear going on my own. It’s quite solitary being an actor on these big sets, everyone sees you but you don’t see so many people. You need to be predictable and easy to find. They usually give you a place of your own and sure, the costume and make-up will have interactions with you but outside of that you get passed quickly through the ADs but spend most of your time just being ready and on your own.
Seventeen live days and they’ve got the feature film in the can. Incredible. “I watched through it all today,” says the director. People are happy. People are exhausted. Even the short time I had felt electric. I was very happy to be there, to be part of it. The director knows how much of me he’s kept. I haven’t seen the rushes. It will always be something I’ve done now and that’s joyful. Work breeds work. This has been an excellent period, and I feel positive about the onward journey from here. If you’re only as good as your last job then right now I’m pretty damn good. What’s next?
So I’m in bed and it’s only just gone ten and we’ve already had a party. Free chicken bites and mini burgers, a Pacifico out of the bottle which is what I liked to do in LA. A game of ten pin bowling with Claire, a couple of nice chats with creative people I liked when I met them on set, the ear of the general for a moment.
I didn’t need to be there any more really and I knew Boy would be shouting about food by now. So I’m gonna take myself to sleepland here in talkative Camden. Tomorrow probably back to Chelsea although they found some WW2 ordnance near the CPL venue in Paris and predictably enough they’ve used it as an excuse for everyone in Paris to stop working, so there’s no trains back. My friend might get delayed home. I’ll be on hand to mind the friendly hairball if so. Maybe the good people of Paris will decide to come to work tomorrow. Maybe not. Bof.
AlBarclay 