I’m enjoying being useful to this delightful group of people, just to be Marc Antony and to try and make people care about those fuckers killing my best friend. I’ll have to have it all learnt by next time, sure. Our director Toby is the son of one of my more memorable English teachers. MJD. He was good at detail. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Such a strange thing to be back at that place. But it was only really the unevolved turds in my year group in my house that made the whole experience hard for me. They haven’t evolved and added to that they’ve doubled down on their lack of evolution. I bear them no ill will as largely I haven’t the headspace. Hating them would be like hating farts for being stinky. They were just kids being basic. I was in a beautiful place, with wonderful opportunities. It just happened that the people in my immediate vicinity had no real imagination. My biggest sadness is that when I got pulled into a reunion dinner they were still stuck in who they used to be.
The other day my mate Dan put it better than I could have: “We were both at Hogwarts, but Al was in Slytherin.”
But yeah I’m back, doing Shakespeare. It is a lovely thing. I’ve got a lot of learning to do as nobody wants to look like a cunt.
This evening I’m knackered. I had a half price Domino pizza thing so I bought one and froze the other. Now it’s not even nine and honestly I think I’m just gonna turn in. Boo has decided she lives on me no matter how I’m configured, and perhaps that’s my lesson for today, that all my concerns and curiosities are nothing when compared to my worthiness as a catpillow.
I’m feeling sad though tonight. Is it chemical or is it, mayhaps, that the air in London tonight is saying autumn? Persephone is still with us for a few weeks dammit. Either way, bed bed bed.
AlBarclay 