Month: May 2025

A month after I was upset by someone deliberately walking in peregrine falcon eggs, the St Alban’s falcons have laid a new batch. Nature is resilient. Apparently the iconic sycamore is shooting up again too. And those idiots are gonna get the book thrown at them which can only be a good thing.

It’s so boring having to hold space for people that think they should be better than nature. Every one of them will be eaten by worms and bacteria, processed back round. But while their jaw and tongue can clack and while there is this vague association between electric impulse in their brain and what we call thought, they try to maintain that there’s some kind of hierarchy in the natural world and our species is the top. And then there’s this idea that, cos we are the top, we can fuck everything up for all the other species.

I was sad to see a bird taken from a feeder I had set up by a bird of prey. But… it’s the cycle. My intervention was what served up the tasty dish for the falcon. That’s just the circle of life and, okay I thought I was providing a tasty dish for the little birds, and I was. I was also providing a little bird dish for the raptors. So be it.

I hope they’ve seriously improved the CCTV in St Alban’s, because as far as I can see there’s been no repercussions to the bag of shit who walked on the first batch of eggs. As we get more and more digital, these idiots divorce further and further from nature. Of course the treechild got someone to video himself cutting it down. What a bag of shit human he was, but you can be sure he will have his apologists online. “It’s just a tree,’ that sort of thing. It’s not, it’s a self important attitude, and its that idiocy that has brought us to this tipping point where we have almost burnt out what’s possible and we are stepping up our burning of the rest, telling ourselves that consumption is what will keep us in pace with the global markets. Governments and climate change:  “Let’s cut bits off ourselves!” “They’re cutting more bits off themselves than we are, we have to cut harder and faster!” “They can still walk with no arms! Cut more to keep up!!” “You see? No arms or nipples or bum cheeks and they are still walking. Cut more off ourselves or they’ll beat us!”

There are some great humans with the humility to see where we all fit in. We are in for a global shock before long.

I’ve run a bath. It’s done. I’m filthy.

Planning.

I had a team of 8, myself included. I couldn’t sell a screenplay about the day I had as it was 7 men and 1 woman. I needed muscle.

The guy who charges our client to open this unit doesn’t show up until ten. The tip closes at 4 and it’s half an hour. We’ve got two local units for quick shuttle processing. One is large but has a tiny door, one is smaller but has double doors. I needed them both. The stuff in them is going to different places, but that’s as maybe. With no time there’s nothing you can do. All this stuff is in store but the guy drives up from London and charges the company £650 to open a shutter. It’s fucking ridiculous.

I have gone over budget on this massively, and I did it as I had the sense that there would be value in what I was taking. The costume will be the thing I never regret. But I am close to 100% certain that our mardy northerner went in there and emptied the flight cases. He’s cherry picked this stuff for himself. He’s a magpie. It worked to my advantage today to an extent, as he took all the Dolavs off my hands. I could have sold them easily enough for £1000 as a job lot or £120 each but I haven’t a place to turn them around and he does. I’d have taken them to Canterbury where I have space for them, but we had a van break down so his acquisitive nature (I just got back and he’d taken them inside) worked to my advantage as it saved me a van load. Really you need a forklift for them, and a warehouse, they are bulky to move and store. He grabbed all the pallets too without comment, and a huge pile of metal chairs with my blessing. He’s the one restricting the hours of access. He’s the reason I have to rush the job and just go hard to the dump. And he’s taken out the small stuff that has value to solve in his sweet time as he has access. I can’t sell IP stuff, and I’ve still got a van day plus two worth of problems to solve now. There’s an alien sarcophagus we couldn’t dump as it is IP. It’s in a storage unit and when there’s more time I’ll likely have to go in and break it up but that’ll be another two people employed plus tip weight. I’ll combine it with loads of other things we didn’t have time to process so put into the store.  It was absolute junk we took today and that’s fine as we were largely tip running anyway. But… it’s junk because Andy has organised the piles and skimmed. I’ve got all these empty flight cases in storage. I don’t think they were empty when we first arrived. Why would they be when they’ve just come off a show? Nice to have the cases, sure, might help balance things financially. But there’s fuckery here, my darlings.

I’m happy though. We stormed through it. There were all sorts of contingencies we didn’t expect, the tip took the piss and told us they had to process our beautifully separated wood as if it was general because they were “full of wood”. Ditto our metal “couldn’t be properly recycled as it’s not pure”, and the time pressure we were put under of £650 a day meant it was just better to pay tip weight than scrap it. Bastards at the tip. But I did the job the client needed and he need never know the fact I got fucked on tip weight, or my suspicions about Andy.

I know more about this game now. There was no gold in there for me but the costumes, but… there was silver – it’ll take work and I’ll have to be efficient if I’m gonna mine it, but I’ve got costs to recoup now. They’ll be worth it if I can pitch and win the next job there at a sensible price, so long as Andy hasn’t already skimmed off all the value off the next job. (Spoiler alert:he probably has.)

Oh god my body is tired and tomorrow will be the hardest one. More and more, I’m thrilled that Lou and I have a week in Bridlington coming up where I’ve cleared the decks. She’s on a driving course with a test at the end of it, I’m just driving her to the driving.

I’m feeling connected to my body right now but not in a nice way, I just ran a hot bath for myself to help with the aches. Today was just about moving things from a local store to a bigger store in Canterbury, so the local storage locker to the job is empty and things like cables that are heavy and have scrap value can be put there temporarily and save me having to pay tip weight for something that, with more time, would balance positively. I’ll have some work to do after Bridlington. I’m looking forward to the time winding the spring back.

My head is so full and my body is so tired right now that I’m not sure how capable I am about making sentences. So even though the flat is full of food I’ve ordered myself a pizza on deliveroo. They cancelled my first order as there was no dip and now it is running later and later, but if it doesn’t show I’ve got a flat full of food anyway. I’m just being lazy as I’m tired.

It’s lovely to be here with the cats. We are just going to drift off together. Everything smells of burnt toast though so perhaps I’m about to have a stroke. More likely a downstairs neighbour had a mistake. Christine got evicted yesterday, and left on her own terms before they pushed her but I’ve ended up agreeing to look after all her gubbins. I’ve got multiple storage units at the mo and it is just another problem to solve but I don’t really want it, I’m just crap at saying no… I’ve asked her please only to make me keep it temporarily. We will see.

Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow. Big day, let’s see where it goes.

The Guildhall. A warren of historic and beautiful rooms, with high ceilings. This is the third year I’ve done this conference so I have a handle on what will be needed when by now which makes it less stressful, but it’s a long long day. Sometimes we can come in and clear it up the morning after the job, but not this time. This time we are here until the bitter end. It looks like we will be on the go until 4am. “Do you want some beer,” ask the suppliers from time to time. “Absolutely not.”

I had a chicken mango tikka sandwich from the co-op, and a bag of dry roasted peanuts. I think they might cut us into the food the delegates are eating though which will be a treat. I’m gonna have to write this piecemeal throughout the evening.

—

There’s a lot of booze going on up there. A room full of publicans. We have cleared out the basement now where they were all meeting suppliers and getting involved with all their mailing list shenanigans. “Spin the wheel of booze!” T-shirts and hats and lanyards, goodie bags and branding and swag. I’m on the way out with booze so I’m probably only gonna go home with things that Brian and Maddy might use. Don’t want to encourage myself. I’ve been given two loaves of bread. Hell yeah. “Bread is expensive these days,” he tells me.

—

Two plates of chicken with truffle and a single asparagus stalk. I’m gonna load up on appletizer so I don’t curl up and fall asleep in the corner. My feet hurt.

—

Flagging. It’s half ten. Hour and a half before it all goes boom again, right now they’re all dancing and so long as I make sure the slops are slopped there aren’t many potential problems. Shimmy has this very well organised, the bulk of the work is in the prep. Best take that fucking easel down, it’s not like they’ll want the table plan anymore.

—

Geezer at Mirabeau just gave me a lovely bottle of rose just cos I sorted some bits out for him. That’ll go in the fridge and maybe one hot summer day it’ll come back out again.

—

Time for DJ Ben. But where the heck is he?

—

He’s up. Starting with Freed from Desire. I’m relaxing for a moment with Joe who I shared with in Saudi, Ffion and Shimmy. Overlaps of bits of my life. There’s something in this habit I have of saying “yes” to whatever the fuck is possible even if it’s only just possible. We are in at the end of a vast leather table in a room full of silver and ghosts.

—

This is so well organised. I need to up my back end game with the ambitious stuff I’m starting out with. Front end I’ve got sewn up. But both faces would be a coup.

—

Last tune. And he’s gone with Bohemian Rhapsody. I’ve already pulled up the floor for Mirabeau. Venue are much more active than usual. Might not be up all night.

—

They are hammered. It’s hilarious.

—

2:11. Got swag. Almost too tired to carry it back to the purple palace. I wonder if I can take a load of Asahi 0% on a Lime bike knackered and not fall over.

What a lovely mix. Ffi and Hanna,  who I’m thrilled to have brought to the attention of D3. Then Cam and Joe who I met in Saudi back in the day, solid lads and we all pulled hard together to legitimise what was almost certainly wishy washy moneytimes. “We packed down everything so carefully, there’s no way they could have hidden drugs in that pack,” says Cam, and I know it. When I wasn’t driving I was ruining my hands with those lads, rolling and unrolling those unforgiving tents. Everyone on that Global Crew was honest and straightforward.

The primary scientist on the legacy project fired every single corruption alarm I have ever had. He was the embodiment of “scientists say” when the scientists say things that are specious and unscientific but that meet the desires of whoever is paying them. I know scientists well, I stay close to my brother Max and he gives a fuck and keeps company with people who give a fuck. It would be incomprehensible for him to deliver bad science in order to serve some sort of social or profit driven agenda. He is the perfect brother for me and my magical thinking and my work in corrupt industries. None of that crap makes sense to him. I need that grounding from time to time.

There’s a little square of green about one minute from my bed where I used to pretend to be a mini golf world champion for a delightful mad treasure hunt. Someone even dobbed me in once for suspicious activity. This part of London, it used to be full of people, it has become a desert. The fact the police were called cos of some benign idiot with a load of golf clubs?! In Brixton for every few square meters there are three people on different substances and one person carrying. But… London is London and I’m thrilled to be back here, connecting with all this stuff.

I took a photo of my little lawn. Here’s where I would set up a mini golf course and make people play competitively.

At a broke time in my life, that was a hugely helpful and welcome project. And I feel very comfortable with my life as it has fallen out. And today I’m working with D3 who, after Kester introduced me to them, have brought great joy into my life. I’m happy to have helped them find good workers in London, and the work they’ve given me has helped me make sense of what’s possible. Long may my friends keep being employed by them, and me as well.

Brixton is nice. It’s lively. You really get Londonned there. Lou and I arrived an hour earlier than we needed to be there. We went and found coffee.

In the back of Bergie I had some body armour bits. Lou is wardrobe on Maccers and she’s been looking for black military stuff and I found a few bits so brought them in. Lovely to shift that energy forward. It’s for a van tour company that is getting ready for a long and varied summer.

There are a few of these van tour companies around, and they always look so tempting. I’m not sure I could do it these days just as it is so many weeks committed and away and it feels like I wanna be rolling the dice in London. But the nostalgic call weighed heavy on my memory. Balmy summer evenings in the grounds of stately homes, with friends. You get to see the country. Their schedule is so hugely varied. They’ve got their own HGV with sponsors names down the side. Everything fits in that and then the actors either go in a minibus or multiple cars. I’d almost want to push for multiple cars and just employ people with their own wheels, as the schedule goes to so many interesting places, but actually a minivan would be fine as largely the performance venue is the place you’d want to visit. The stately home gardens. The minnac. I wonder where they’ll sleep – that’s a big factor too. But my heart is pulled to that road life – the romance. Knowing you’ll be doing lovely text every night, knowing you’ll be in a beautiful place with friends, the late summer breeze.

In reality, it’s shitting it with rain and half the audience were drunk as skunks, your fingers are bleeding from a bad lift in the load last night and you’re carrying that bloody steel deck again and it’s a Travelodge this evening forty five minutes drive from here and your agent has had to turn down a movie for you to have half your speech accidentally cut by that guy who is shouting at your left eyebrow and your boyfriend is upset and lonely because you’ve been on the road so long with these people and your agent hasn’t sent anyone to see it and you’ve pissed all your wages up the wall but your family all came when you were in that stately home near London and your aunty asked why you weren’t playing the lead and your cousin said he knew someone who was looking for an office worker when the job’s finished but still every evening you warm up in the evening sun and look at the grounds of this incredible home and think “could I be happier?”

I’ve left some armour with them. Then I went home to the two cats and the friends and it was lovely and fulfilling. And then tomorrow I’ll audition for a shorter tour, not in vans but in America, no set to load, just a suitcase, no steel deck and only five weeks. I could enjoy that.

It’s never too late to learn a new thing.

I drove down to Brighton to snatch a moment with Lou. She’s sick as a dog and still working, and she dragged me along for the ride.

“Are you ready for arts and crafts?”

She needed a proof of concept for making some deformed buttocks and bellies. I like to say “yes” to things.

This is a circular needle. We were stitching wadding together with them in contours. We measured it out, then cut an old tea box as a template. I learnt how to hold it and cut two at once without it slipping. With Lou’s top quality scissors. She’s precious about them. I got bollocked when I didn’t swap scissors for cutting the tea packet. “We should do a Shakespeare workshop next,” I growled at one point. But I made a kinda buttock type thing. It looks badly stitched but it holds together. Contours like on an ordnance survey map.

I’m glad I can still thread a needle by eye. My grandma used to get me to do it all the time. That generation were all making their own repairs, it skipped a generation or two but it’s back now with all the younguns. Lou takes patterns off things she loves and then bangs them out. I can barely sew on a button. Never too late to start something new. I’ll be on the sewing machines before you know it.

Now it’s an early bed and rest. We ate heartily and early – feed a cold they say. I arrived armed with painkillers, hankies and chocolates. We should both be asleep by 10. Long week next week.

What beautiful weather for the start of the weekend. Brian made breakfast, which was already a win on the day. Then it was about striking out with Siwan into the English countryside in order to make sense of lots of stuff.

Lou is costuming a show right now and might have use for some costume I have in store. I haven’t even worked out the economy of this yet – it needs to be housed first, sorted second, catalogued third. But Lou gets to jump the gun cos she’s Lou.

I’ve had to say “yes” to a shift in how I go about things. I’ve got many pulls on my attention. There’s some glorious potential acting work on the horizon. There’s also an old client who is trying to get away with paying us in spiders over the Christmas period. They owe us for a job completed a long time ago where I flew someone over from New Orleans. They wouldn’t have come if the job didn’t pay their air fare, the job doesn’t match what they want to pay going forward, they are trying to race us to the bottom here as they allegedly have someone who is charging less. They requested the meeting though. They know we provide an excellent service. It’s sad as this has been a few decades, on and off, but perhaps it’s time to move on. If they don’t value us we can’t value them. I might be sad about it but I’m more just a bit annoyed. Event acting responds to confident craft. Uncut actors will either do too much or too little and both behaviours are egregious to the client. You only learn by doing, we all fuck up sometimes. Don’t act at people, but be self determined. We know this gig and space so well, but they tried to hardball us to fuckedyspit money because they think that 15 days of guaranteed evening(!) employment over the busiest period for an entertainer is somehow tempting enough for us to clear our diaries.

Anyway. It has been a good day today. More tomorrow. I’m off to bed as I’ve got an exam tomorrow and I honestly can’t remember most of this stuff. I’ll sort the corporate thing out. The fact they are holding out on payment for completed work because they want to drive us down – that is almost enough on its own to make me want to walk away forever. Which is sad, but I know my worth these days. And it feels like they don’t. “There’s a skill in this event acting, you know, to judge things right.” “I know, both of my parents are actors,” I get. So either the person I’m talking to thinks their parents are worthless, or they had AmDram parents who just want to be seen and will pay to do it. Either way, yuk.

So yeah I’m home and chilled. This week has been about my invigilation career. (This phrase is a joke) If you’ve got an exam, if nobody else can help, and if you can book him, you can get the A invigilator.

“You showed up fully for our last exam,” said one of the students. Well groomed, wearing a football shirt he was. “You’ve cut your hair and put on a nice shirt.” he observed.

I had a haircut yes. And I’m wearing Lou’s blockprint. Some of the invigilators treated me like I was a totally different person having just shaved. “Haven’t seen you for ages,” tried Angela who I saw yesterday. But yeah I get it. My hair comes fast and it changes my face. I auditioned for someone who would be clean shaven. Gotta look the part. And I had long hair too. No more. It’s only the hat that he recognised me by.

Meanwhile I’ve been drawing up plans to clear these units that have to be cleared. Bits of noise round the country where people need their things to turn back into energy. Round and round we go. But I’ve got it sorted whether or not Dean is silent, my truck man. I thought he could deliver. I am not particularly interested in booking anything through a proxy so if you’ve got your HGV licence tell me, I’m putting things in place to get mine so I don’t have to wait for silent people.

The invigilating is always just seasonal and part time, I value it for that. When I tried to work for ATG as a receptionist I quickly realised they needed commitment in a way I couldn’t muster. One department of exams, and a department I know very very well? Great. That’s gravy and if my back goes and I can’t do the theatre jobs I’ve still never auditioned for then fuck it, at least I’ve put things in place.

Bedtime though. Tomorrow is an assessment day. This is a changing time for me and I’m glad you’re along for the ride.

This week has been very much about invigilation, after my interruption into haulage on Monday. I had to cancel a shift for Monday, told them it was a funeral.

I’ve pitched this haulage job a little bit wonky but as you scale up you have to learn. I thought from the pictures and the jobs I’ve had to do before that it would be achievable with the team I brought. Far from it. This is a big job.

Responsively, I’ve booked a big team. I now have the right balance, in my opinion, to get this squared off nicely. I’ll be back a week today with 6 people and three vans and we will absolutely nail the rest of this. Van and 1 times 3, 1 floater.

It’s interesting to really start to see what I’ve learnt over the years I’ve been responsive in events. There’s a whole language that I’ve learned, it’s almost code. I’ve written about it before, the heras and the scrim and the ped, the dolavs. “Can you go to CSM and ask for a long weight?” That was the old joke. Or “Get me some sky hooks.” “What are they?” “You know, so I can attach this to the sky.” Hazing, they call it in America. I never fell for it, but also never realised I was being wound up. I just went and got Jake the longest weight I could find. “There you go mate.” “That was quick, did you go to CSM?” “No I just grabbed one that wasn’t being used.” Long WAIT you see. Didn’t notice until I saw him do it to someone else. And when he described sky hooks I just told him he’d have to improvise.

I’ve built a team and it’s a good team. We will be able to be efficient now, get this stuff out out out hopefully faster than they’re expecting. If there’s someone at the storage when the vans are out sorting then the loads will be easier. One pane of glass minimum per tip load means we will get it all out and nobody will be overweight. Lots of things to think about, lots of things to consider, lots of things to worry about, nothing to do but do and do and do until it is done.

Beltane today, so I jumped over a candle. Burning away the remains of unmotivated me. This is an overlap of three of my skillsets and contact networks. Crewing massive events, building and loving entertainment from the inside, sorting and shifting other people’s stuff.  I’m in my happy place. But there’s work to be done.

Thankfully invigilating exams leaves a lot of time for thinking.