Ahhhhhhhh
And relax.
Mel isn’t around much these days so I invited her for a Sunday roast.
The first thing I did today was just… not wake up in the morning. No alarm. Oh joy. Just the ambient Brian and Maddy and cats. At about ten I was having an eerily specific dream where Bergie got stolen. This is anxiety brought on by the fact that there are two eurocrates of ratchet straps and hard hats visible in the back. A chancer might thing “ooh and there’ll be tools”. I’ve had my window smashed once before and that accordion never came back to me. I woke, got up, realised nobody was in the flat but the heating was on. Naked coffee and then back into a blanket heated bed. This Sunday is the Sunday things Sunday.
Mel showed up in the afternoon. Good and late, hurrah. I wasn’t functioning until it was getting dark. We went to Waitrose and I got a bird and veg and tatties. She got a bottle of pre-mulled wine and I told her to send it back. “The alcohol will be cooked off!” Maybe, but I’m not drinking that shit when I’m starting rehearsals tomorrow morning. Headache juice.
I like this tomorrow bunch, they seem really focused. But I’m gonna be the old guy and empathy only works backwards so I am worried I’ll come across as old fashioned or whatever. I doubt it but one can worry. We will all be making this thing together and it is really exciting and will be lovely. But it is a negotiation. We make it TOGETHER. Until I know them I don’t know what the dynamic will be.
Mel and I chatted while I prepped the roast. Nothing too complicated, this is a meal that’s a frame for a catch-up. Coincidentally my gravy was one of my best for ages. It’s always about what’s kicking around in the cupboard, but also it turned out to be a good juicy chicken plus we ended up mulling just half a bottle of merlot so the other half went to sauce.
And now it’s bedtime. And I’m up for it tomorrow. But want to be fresh and fighting fit. So I’m off to sleep.
AlBarclay 