Author: albarclay

And that’s a picture wrap for me. I rang my agent afterwards. “I’m glad they booked the second day… One day and it’s easy to totally forget you’ve done the job. You barely get to know anyone as there are too many people all at once. Two days and you start to feel part of things.” Fine. But gimme a week or two next time.

I’m happy to have gotten back on the horse. There’s plenty to take away from all this. Crafty things about comportment and approach to the moves and lines. Time at the coal face, doing the thing. Nothing beats live experience. And brief flares of friendship. I was wrapped before the guys I’ve been working with the last few days, and they were pushed for time, so there was no time for all the farewells and number swappings. But there’ll be a screening I’m sure. I really liked them. The script really lifts off the page. I think it’s gonna be a banger. Happy to be involved. Today I was largely just filling scenes but within that I found some moments to be proud of. Let’s see if they make the edit.

These are the jobs I hold on for. Sure it has been a strange long run and there have been setbacks aplenty. But I’ve found an agent where I am understood and happy, and from there I can be seen in the right context by the right people. Things are shifting. There’ll be more.

Back at home I am running a bath and just watched Cunk on Shakespeare, and after a brief moment in the bubble the real world is reasserting itself. I’m supposed to be in Hungary but that went in favour of today. So tomorrow I’m gonna rest hard and long before going back to the house in the woods and looking at the real things I need to do.

I left my mobile phone in my trailer, which is habit for me. Sometimes you’re on set outdoors or in public places and so forth, phone in your costume pocket is far from professional, particularly if it goes off. Also it spoils the line of the clothes, which I literally don’t care about in life but obsess about in work. I’m glad I didn’t have it as it let me pay attention instead.

We were in Gigi’s Hoxton, underground. There’s a little stage there. Last time I went was a fair few years ago, dressed as a mobster for the launch of Monkey Shoulder in the UK, part of a mad event by Coney. Before then, we did a few early Factory shows there. A happy place for me, then. I was surprised when I got out the car.

Glen my driver has a Lexus with heated seats and massage chairs. He picked me up half asleep just after six and I floated on a sea of massage all the way to unit base. I was expecting a beard trim but they liked the badger in full pelt. The whole working day was there, with many different shots on one long scene. Only a few minutes of footage, dozens of people, covering many angles, but it’s the scene where the three leads come together for the first time so care was taken. All three leading actors are delightful humans with a lot more screen time behind them than I have. It is always helpful to observe their ways on set. I’ve brought a great deal into my craft over the years from seeing how the most experienced cast members negotiate strange notes or awkward settings. Much of it, of course, is just knowing when it’s the right time to speak out and when it’s the right time to get on with it and let the team solve it.

And we have a good team running this ship. A clear and pleasant director, and production are similarly clear and carrying no negativity. It never felt unguided or wasteful. They got what they needed and moved on, and wrapped for the day on time. Based on the atmosphere on set, people are happy with where it’s all going and where it is right now. Good to be part of it. Films are a big old venture.

I’m happy to be doing the thing I set out to do, even just as a small part of things. My second bit of filming this year already. Maybe the dragon will bring me fortune. What a lovely day, but I’ve got to go to sleep as it is all happening again tomorrow…

First thing in the morning the first AD texted asking if I was okay with coming in for a second day of filming. I suspected this might happen at the read-through as there was an unassigned line right at the end and if I have it then it gives my character something as close to an arc as you can get with about 5 lines. I’m thrilled they decided to hand it to me. But it puts the kibosh on Budapest. So that’s a lot of money up the wall. Airport parking and flights. Oh well. I might still go by booking another flight out late on the 14th just because I’m fed up of failing to see Maté. But maybe it isn’t the time, once again.

A good problem to have, though. Two days on set is always better than one and the money for another day will more than cover the loss.

Lou and I woke up in sunshine finally. Our little house in the woods has been drenched and overcast for most of the time we’ve been there. To finally see the light come in through the trees was a tonic. Our headspaces are very very different at the moment. She’s having an extremely tricky string of unexpected setbacks, while I’m back doing what I blithely assumed I’d be doing all the time when I left Guildhall. I want to give it my full focus and try and push momentum, so half of my head is on these things.

Couple that with the fact that she’s a lark and I’m an owl. I will sometimes try to lark with her when I’m staying, but the last few days I’ve been enjoying the peaceful late night owling in that house, with the crackling fire, the night sounds and the delightful pair of cats.

Brian showed up with dinner and a Ukrainian friend this evening. We have just had a good chat about Dadaism. I ended up lending her Stoppard’s wonderful strange play Travesties. Now it is bedtime. Much earlier than usual. 6am car. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

The last of tonight’s fire and I’m sitting next to it with Rajah next to me. Keeping track of time tonight. I ought to be in bed in a more timely fashion than yesterday. No owl outside yet. Just the clicking and hissing of the fire. Peace.

I’ll have a week here after Budapest, but I’m back up to London tomorrow ahead of the filming. Lou and I watched Saltburn tonight in front of the fire. Another unusual and inspired British film. Cleverly cast and told so well. I really enjoyed the nuance in the dialogue both in writing and delivery. Some bright performances from less familiar faces.

Walking around this morning in a break from the rain, we found flooding everywhere. All paths led to puddles. With the January we just had this all must be wreaking havoc on crops.

This house was built on a footprint. That’s how they got to do it so deep in the wood. Likely a gamekeeper’s cottage or barn. My friend rents it now and has filled it with creatures. There’s peace and quiet. It makes a change.

On the flip side, three power cuts tonight. For the last one, everything was down for a clear minute and we were just lighting candles when it popped back on again. I suspect the rain brought a tree onto a line somewhere, but these days there are always alternatives. I did have a moment of realising how cut off we are here despite proximity to civilisation. No mobile signal, but strong WiFi. No phone line – it’s 2024. The power went and with it went all our comms. Loads of candles as our friend is woo-woo too. But even though I do workshops in schools highlighting our thoughtless dependance on the grid, for a moment I realised how much I take for granted in terms of communication. And that we have all lost an emergency band with the fazing out of analog signal. If I lived here all the time I’d have a radio set up like one of those nutjobs in America.

As it is it is all just part of an enjoyable break from the norm plus cats.

The problem with cats is they are so chilled. You can get swept up in it.

I’ve been sitting on this sofa for hours, in this quiet quiet home, and Carlos has been breathing into me as I sit. Behind me there’s an owl hooting, Lou has been sleeping for a few hours now, Rajah is out hunting again, and somehow I’ve allowed myself to be pulled into a purry little vortex of time. I can’t believe it’s suddenly past midnight, but it is. Time to write.

This is Carlos.

Carlos was sleeping all day under the duvet. Now he’s sleeping on me. He prefers warmth over breathing, it seems, and often pushes his face down into the cushions. He only eats wet food and he’s a total whore for strokes. He doesn’t care a bit about snacks.

This is Rajah.

“All ginger cats are mad,” says Frank on WhatsApp. I think he’s right in this regard. Rajah lives in the woods. He’s domesticated feral. This morning, Lou was up before me and discovered a mouse head, eyes wide open, and viscera spread artfully on that carpet – just outside the bedroom door. She was barefoot but lucky. I’ve stepped on such things before. The rain must be making for good hunting – flushing the poor things out of their flooded holes. This evening he came in with another one, small and pale, hopefully dead in his mouth. We were still awake this time and he fled back outside with his prize. I think he likes to get his meal out of the rain first. He only eats dry food, but it seems he’s eating the spoils of his hunting. I hope he doesn’t like birds too as I put a load of fatballs into the feeder. February is a bad month for naturally occurring bird food. That owl outside though is likely enjoying the flushed out mice as much as Rajah. It’s worth going out in the rain when it is as waterlogged as it is right now, so long as you eat mice.

There’s an Airbnb across the way, currently occupied but often empty. If we hadn’t gone shopping they would have been the only other people we were aware of. Who knows how the guy got planning permission for these two homes, but they aren’t on mains water properly as they are deep enough into the woods. You can drive to a Jempsons in five minutes so it’s not like I’m Joseph Campbell here. But it feels thrust away. I like it. And I’m very much enjoying the energies of the cat on my lap, the very vocal hunting owl, quietly sleeping Lou beside whom I will shortly be trying not to snore, and Rajah the ginger hunter. The log fire is dying, it’s late. I think I’ll put the kettle on for a chamomile tea.

I thought a trip to Heathrow and back from Rye on a Friday wouldn’t be such a big ask but it took me all day. I dropped Bella off with no issues whatsoever and then went home via mine. Into central London and back out again on a Friday. That was my mistake. Every queue you could imagine.

In a fit of misplaced optimism I trusted Google when it routed me through Croydon. Hours later I found myself at the turn off to Birch in Selsdon. Looking at the signs still there made me sad.

Birch was a lovely thing in theory. I got to know the one in Selsdon as I was a Panda there for quite some time. It is a vast building and the new people running it were lovely idealists. They were rewilding the golf course and trying to run a member’s club out of it. They made the most incredible swimming pool, imported a few pigs and cows and the like, slung hammocks in trees and invited a load of young businesses folk to join a gym and coworking space and so on, with bars and beanbags and restaurants building menus out of local produce.

It all very suddenly went into administration and then, shortly afterwards – more’s the pity – The House is St Barnabas in Soho, which also ran Birch – announced a sudden closure. That place was very special, but Grade 1 listed and renovations can be punishing when you have to use horse hair plaster. It was a member’s club that trained up and employed people from Soho who might have been slipping through the cracks. It always felt a little less bum than some of the other members clubs in that area. Birch and Barnabus both lying empty now, and I’m wondering what will happen to them.

There’s a little patch of Croydon that probably has rich bird life now because of what they did a Birch. Hopefully whoever takes over won’t make it into flats. I bet they do.

I’m in the woods again. Tomorrow I’ll just get to exist here with Lou. Today was spent driving, with my eyes streaming from contact lenses, I hoped, or perhaps this damn February cold.

Good food, good company, cats and recovery. Should be a great weekend.

Two cats live here. Rajah and Carlos. I expect you’ll all be sick of photos of them before long. Tonight I’m too tired. Not because of them. Looking after them really only involves keeping the food topped up and telling them how beautiful they are. They have an outside garden and they do all their stinky things out there no matter the weather. No litter tray! Inconceivable!

I’m tired just because of this atrocious weather. It was a long drive from London to Brighton and then from Brighton to Hastings with faulty wipers through an assault of sheeting vicious flood. Visibility went with the dark and it was just vile for much of the way. I knew there was a Lou half way and then a log fire at the end of it all.

India Rakusen kept me company most of the way with her BBC podcast “Witch”. Worth digging into for sure. A measured blend of facts and woowoo, and plenty of food for thought over plenty of episodes. I’ve only got two left now and I’ll be driving a good four hours tomorrow. I’m taking my hostess and the cat mum off to Heathrow so she can fly to Goa.

It’s 30° in Goa. Why the fuck am I not flying to Goa? Better by far than this unseasonal bad weather in South English February. How dare it still be winter when there are daffodils in the verges? The flat is full of cut spring flowers but there’s been so little sun they haven’t wanted to open yet. I can feel it retreating, but yeah, I suppose the rainy season is still to come. February early spring is perhaps a function of my optimism more than a reality. It’s coming though.

Lou is with me in the woods for the first few days. Once I’ve gone to Heathrow and back we can catch up here where there’s no traffic noise and two affectionate fluffy idiots. There’s an Airbnb nearby that has people for the weekend, but it is rarely tenanted at this time of year so mostly we can hang here and forget the hustle and bustle.

After the weekend I’m doing that spot of filming and then shooting off to Budapest for a wee jaunt on my own. Then I’ll be here a week or so with the cats and perhaps another friend. For now it’s late and I’m up early for the chauffeur service. Time to go to bed.

I’m shifting my base for a bit. There’s a friend of Lou’s who lives in the woods near Hastings. I know that woodland pretty well from summertime visits to a patch of woodland owned by my dear friend’s uncle. Bella has two cats and a roof over her head, but she’s pretty much in the woods. And she’s off to Goa. Someone needs to look after the creatures. A change is as good as a rest, they say. So I’m gonna go live with the cats. There may or may not be another friend there at some point. I’m pretty chilled about it all, really. I’m mostly thinking about the cats and the sunset through the trees.

I guess it means I’ll have to pack a basic bag tomorrow morning though. There’s a fair amount going on. Sure it’s only one day of filming, but that’ll be happening on the 13th and I’ll have to be on form. “I like your humility,” said the wardrobe mistress today and I told her I’d be showing off about that later. A comment that comes from someone who is flooded with people who look and sound like me but are pompous egomaniacs. Even more than I am. Writing words about my life daily. Maybe that’s a benign way for the narcissism to come out. Rather than being a shithead to everyone. But yeah, bless her. She thought I was nice.

Fuck. Maybe I am.

Nice can still be sexy. Sexy-nice. That’s me. Yeah…

She was dressing me in the most horrible clothes. And she took one photo with the jumper I was wearing. It’s red cashmere – the garment you wear when you think you’ll be spilling wine down your front. I got it on Vinted for tuppence.

Bedtime. Need to print some stuff out in the morning before I leave, and get the paper etc. Admin never stops.

I was in Walworth today attempting to get some young people to switch their heads on about energy consumption. It used to be a living but the company seems to be slowing down at the moment. Most of the people I knew who teach these workshops, they’ve all gone off to do more predictable things. Muggins here keeps his options open on purpose. Muggins had to get up early post poker.

A predicted, I woke up somewhere in Elephant and Castle with a Vanilla Latte in one hand and a muffin in the other. No contact lenses and a vehicular soup between my flat and the caffeine. I shoved my lenses into my newly caffeinated eyes and zinged the rest of the way to the car park and the big room full of youth.

They’re good this school. Last year I was there with no printouts and no screen. I’m supposed to be running a PowerPoint. The whole event devolved into theatre. The kids seemed to enjoy it. They asked for it back but this time there were tables and printouts and it all felt more official. There was even a volunteer from the National Grid. Wasn’t expecting them, they didn’t really know why they were there. I don’t think they spoke to a single student for the whole workshop. Just looked a bit fazed and smiley. Like me before the coffee.

The day did the day thing thing and time moved as it likes to and eventually I got to go home. Now it’s into the bath and another early bed cos there’s an Addison Lee showing up at sparrow’s fart tomorrow to take me up to Mill Hill and a costume fitting. I won’t have to drive or prepare though so I’ll make a coffee in the bubbler and carry it. But still, still I struggle with that bit of the morning before half seven. Thank all the Gods I’m not a schoolteacher.

These workshops are easy now. But the easier they get the less I want to do them. Maybe I really am a masochist.

Poker.

I almost took the pot. Got my stake back.

We weren’t expecting this.

Adam catalysed it all. He just casually suggested maybe Brian he and I should come play poker. It ended up being a lot more people. Brian’s business partner Louis very much wanted in on it. I wasn’t concerned about the win or the loss, but that was where the game was going to be pointed.

The excellent thing was that Louis talked us all through the betting, the blinds, the game of it. And then he took the pot. I fucked up royally on the biggest hand of the night, being convinced I had an 8 and then, when revealed, discovering it was a 5 and I had nothing instead of the winning 3 of a kind I had been playing. But the host taking the pot on the first ever night isn’t really etiquette. Louis was a gracious winner. And it was nice to see all the humans.

Jack and Adam from this year’s Carol. Louis who was there for many of the squeakier moments over the years, making it all happen, trying to troubleshoot the explosions. Brian and I, and it’s glorious having him here again. I’m thrilled about it. More humans were there too, but etiquette.

I’m working tomorrow in Walworth, at arse in the morning. Early enough that I’m gonna lay my clothes out when I’m done writing so I can ghost into my car while I’m still asleep. The good news is there’s a predictable Gregg’s in a petrol station ten minutes from my house towards work. That’ll be my wake up.

For now it is bedtime. A lovely lovely inaugural poker night for BarclayHook Towers. I’m battered and have to do unfamiliar things first thing tomorrow. Night night.