It’s half nine. The seagulls are chuckling on the roof and calling in the sky, taking each other home to roost as the sky is darkening. And I love it. It’s still light. It’s night. This is my favourite time of year, when I can usually go out in a T-shirt, when everyone wants to be outside.
We are by the sea so occasional squalls are a hazard but not a dealbreaker. In order to perform my duties properly, I must be relaxed and regular in the vicinity of a sensitive cat. She had her meds in the morning, we hung out together, a bit of late afternoon play, evening dinner and she might get a tiny bit of overnight biscuits although she was good this morning and didn’t get me up with the dawn.
I am looking towards my burgeoning haulage empire, having finally been paid for my Newcastle haul. A big old whack, even if most of it goes directly to staff. Still, nice to be a hub where money moves around. I’ll be able to pay myself back for the tip weight now. Which is excellent news.
Breakfast this morning at Cafe Rust, a treat, not an every day thing. I’m just happy to be in a peaceful place where I can learn my lines for the next little job. I learnt Gratiano here in a day so there’s precedent. Fluellen is prose though damn him, look you.
And at this rate I’ll be asleep before the sky is dark. Ahhh summer. I’ve been waiting for you. A quiet few days by the seaside, learning and plotting. I might have a job in Berlin coming in… Let’s see. For now I’ll just relax while I can.
Tessy is still getting used to me, but she likes it when I stroke her belly. That’s basically my job. Anything else and she’ll cut me.
AlBarclay 