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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.

So there was a fire in an electrical substation in St John’s Wood. Nothing to worry about though, just faulty equipment. Definitely nothing to do with Russia. It’s good we’ve got safeguards. The power flow to London wasn’t really affected at all.

I had a momentary power cut in my Chelsea flat two days ago. Only about five seconds, but it was grid not local. Probably just event staff shorting the area while building the flower show. Not Russians.

Spain and Portugal went down hard just recently. Not an attack, it was a freak environmental thing. No Russians involved, just a … *checks notes* a heatwave… (does this say heatwave, this is cold for summer, heatwave might paint the wrong picture?) *** *** ***

Ahem. So yes to continuing with blogwrite, obviously stupid people stupid think that the glorious Russian empire sabotages English. English are nothing. Nightmare of it to think that haroshi Russia doing anything of wrong to English. Sweet foolishness funny. HA. HA. HA.

…

Social media is flooded with fake photos and videos now. AI bollocks about Keanu Reeves fighting Elon Musk about how AI can never replace human thought, but actually dressed up as a trap to try and prove the opposite as real people reshare it. We have to be more careful than we have ever been, and we have to absolutely engage the things that the brainwashed masses who think they’ve found the truth hate: Critical thinking. Examining the source. And it is so hard, because we are emotional beings, but it is SO IMPORTANT. Temporarily try and distance yourself from the circumstances and expectations that make up YOU, and do it every time you hear something that triggers an emotional response. Let the response trigger, absolutely, but then when you can go into examination mode on yourself as to how it triggered. Where did this come from? Did I get sent it because I’m looking for it? What are the assumptions and manipulations in the prose? Am I being manipulated? (“Evil person x y wants us to z”)

AI is everywhere now, derivative and pat and so fucking boring but useful. The worst thing about it is that it magnifies stupid people. You can consider an argument and really think about your reasoning and examples, and someone who is their own uncle can write a basic prompt and yield an unsatisfactory rebuttal (but satisfying to whoever posts it). AI is a proxy for rednecks. You need to be able to spot it when you’re throwing pearls before swine. Don’t be part of dead internet. That’s only a few years away. Already the bulk of posts are bots or idiots with prompts. Nothing to do with Russia trying to manipulate the narrative, btw. Let’s leave Russia out of this. Dead internet is coming, where all of the activity is bots dealing with, supporting, arguing with, interacting with bots. Facebook is mostly already there. Bots and your weird uncle who inexplicably hates squirrels and feels supported by the exsquirrel bots and thinks that demagogue says it like it is. Twitter is dead.

The pictures will get better too, eventually. Right now, context evaluation is key. “My son got home from school crying about x” does not yield a studio style portrait of them crying unless you are a total psycho, even if you’re trying to pull on our heartstrings about bullying or whatever (and T*mu or T*doo app both of which are mentioned more than you would credit in this AI bullshit article economy.) Chinese companies flooding for familiarity. I’m mostly Sus about Russia at the mo just as Putin has his little pocket oompaloompa so he can flex his fading muscles without fear of repercussions.

Nuclear warheads have a shelf life. That shelf life is running out. When you’ve spent a load of money on something, you don’t want it to go to waste. Oof.

No harm in making sure you’ve got some iodine at home, and a wind up radio. I’m in London. I’ll be dead anyway.

Back to the invigilation. Ah the delights. Lots and lots of strings pulling on my attention at the moment, and somehow my agent has been silent despite me having just finished an absolute blinder of a run. Likely they’re in shock, but it’s ok by me as I’m trying to follow the money for a change.

Some very strong shifts potentially, absolutely in my accumulated skillset, merging events with storage with theatre with driving. I’ve made some good decisions recently but now have to wait and see where the fallout goes.

This week has been the most conspiracy theory-tastic week we’ve ever had, I think. Andrew’s child Epsteined herself, Spain went dark and our government officially revealed legit chemtrail plans.

Right now I’m watching this shit in horror. Yes of course correlation does not imply causation. 100% of people who think correlation implies causation will die. But how the hell can we be so colourblind to announce a cloud seeding project with an environmental agenda when a huge part of the English speaking world is involved in a demagogue who says he thinks climate change is made up so he can keep on burning. His followers have bought the idea that “they” have been somehow flying shitloads of chemicals over us without anyone at ground level ever catching on in order to somehow control behaviours in a populace whose behaviours have evidently not been blanket controlled. Who are “they”? Doesn’t matter. Rich liberals? Some of the oldest crap comes up when you ask these people who “they” are. And now an official similar plan so they can all say “I told you so” and make themselves even more insufferable.

But I am such a questioner, I really find it hard to buy narratives as I know how stories work. Alternative conformist narratives are as pernicious as what is thought of as mainstream narratives. I reckon there are probably more “clever” atheists in this country than there are people with specific “Christian” faith. But the atheists are the ones behaving like their belief structure is the correct one and needs to be propagated. And I use “clever” because so many conformist contrarians think they are somehow clever for having consumed, internalised, and started propagating some absolute gubbins idea about whatever their topic is today.

I find it hard to buy the sun dim. I don’t credit the reasons we have been given for the Spanish blackout and that’s augmented by how cagey and evasive the usually very accurate meta AI has been with me about it:

As for Guiffre, it is hard to credit that she killed herself. We are always being lied to, sure, that’s how government has to work. Manage the truth, release things when it will have the impact you need it to. Because we have made it all up, all this civilization stuff, but we made it up long enough ago that most people have forgotten we made it up and think that there are ways that things have to be, usually based on their preferences.

It’s nice until it isn’t, this made up world, but there are so many countries where it has already gone totally wrong but people are still playing a horrible game.

Sometimes people mess up the board, throw things around, but it always comes back to the same nonsense with different people.

I’m never gonna buy the mainstream narrative, anymore than I’m gonna buy the alternative narrative, knowing we are all kids in the playground making up the rules as we go. Morals shift from person to person and we know it. We are all making up the world together and trying our best in it. Maybe that’s enough. But what a weird news week, and you can be sure the patternmatchers are having a field day.

I’m shattered.

Thankfully I had good plus ones and my prep had been effective. Unfortunately the photos I had been sent to estimate the job were not in any way representative of the extent of it.

Three of us showed up in a Luton to some mardy northerner who was much more interested in moaning about how he expected more vehicles than he was in being helpful. I didn’t let him slow us down and we loaded in a ton of stuff. Old mannequins, bits of duct and cables. It all had to go, no time to properly sort it just hoik it all in. Then the moment of truth as we drove to the tip, but actually barring expense it was totally doable. The tip was lethal. No wonder it’s hi-vis and hard hat, someone almost dropped a ton of doors on my leg. It’s horrible but they are trying to recycle. Pulling out the metal, the wood, the plastics. Chucking it at your head.

I’m glad I’m not greatly involved in the IP as we have had to be ruthless. We tipped another fuckelton, but time was not on our side with the tip closing at 4. Still, we pulled as much as we could out, got things cleared but not all of them. There’s still loads there. I’m looking into getting a truck for a day – ideally a box loader 18 tonner. That and some lads and I can come up in a Luton and we can do shuttle runs and get the rest of it out. Eurocrates full of cables that’ll weigh so much I’m tempted to get someone else to drive the van and come up in my car, take them and put them into the household recycling cable section where they don’t weigh you in and out. Flight cases with god knows what. Sure we can put it back round and we will. We have to. But yeah, once I get greenlit on part two of this plan you’re gonna get a call if you’re a big lad I know. Jack and Jake and I pulled hard today and achieved, softened the mardy northerner. But there’s much to do here still and I’ve started so I’ll finish. Some huge sheets of glass that just… weigh. Big glass is the absolute fucker for weight.

I’m gonna get in the bath now. I almost certainly stink. A few more days like that and all the pies will be a distant memory. They’ll have come through my pores. I’ll get this signed off and I have now learned not to pitch too low if I’ve got no information. But … I needed the work, it has been pretty dry lately and the coffers are looking empty.  This work won’t make me rich but it won’t fuck me over either. Glad to be active.

I’ve run a bath. Brian has geranium and CBD bath salts. I thought it best to write this before I get in as I’m not sure how eloquent I’ll be when I get out the other side. This is already the fucked version of me. Sleep is calling. I’ll have to work hard to stay awake in the bath.

Well that was a lovely evening.

It feels like just yesterday that Claire and Ffion and co went round America with the fortieth anniversary of AFTLS, but here we all were suddenly at the FIFTIETH. There’s no way ten years have passed. Ten years have passed. Christ.

I last went out with Twelfth Night. Before that it was Much Ado. 5 actors and a suitcase, working deeply with Shakespeare. It’s magic. It calls for an easy knowing of the text, as you are teaching and workshopping as much as you are performing, sometimes more. Nice people, long distances, great text.

There was good cake, and a bar tab. I’m busy all day tomorrow, so I couldn’t nail the booze. I very much enjoyed the cake and the company though, and honestly I’m a cheap date these days so a glass or two of wine and I was anybody’s. I pulled out and went home before 8 and ordered pizza from deliveroo. Pizza express doing large pizza for 12 quid and I get 7 quid off four times a month and then a 5 quid rebate on my amex so basically it’s free. Gotta work the angles. I just let the guy in and now I’m munching as I write to you.

Lovely family of people, all pushing in the same direction. Actors gotta look after each other and this is an actor led company. It makes me very happy to call them friends. But I’m glad I managed to leave before the end of the night.

Greasy fingers on the phone now. Messy yum yums. The cats are both watching me with admiration and disgust as I push cheesy bread into my face and write. I’ll be asleep and in cheesy dreamland soon, that’s the plan. That was a good show. Hamlet. Three men, two women. Really strong and clever. Trust Jim Jack to make everything active, he made Claudius a thug and it worked. It’s always fun seeing lovely actors playing monsters. The whole company was fun and sparky and gelled. I’ve had a lovely night, the pizza has soaked up the wine, now it’s bedtime.

I thought I might be driving all day today, slinging heavy bits all over London and Kent, emptying emptying emptying. But the lady who runs the place this particular set is stored charges £650 for weekend access. Absolute madness. I’m going on Monday and I’m steeled to the expectation I’m going to be obstructed by her. She’s onto a winner – a company paying a monthly storage. She probably quoted them an eye watering sum for removals which is why my pitch landed. Now I’ve got to do a good job of it. That’s fine, I’m good at these things. I don’t think she will want to make it easy as she wants it still there next month… But let’s see.

I’ve booked two guys who know each other so it’ll be three lads in a Luton. White van men. Waheyyyyy etc. By the look of it there is lots of weight here. I suspect it came in an artic. She thinks we need two artics to clear it. Nah. I didn’t see any pallets. This is gonna be manual, hence the three lads. Who runs a storage place that isn’t accessible on the weekend? Madness. I honestly think she’s a chancer. Someone’s mum who thinks theatre people are rich. The post code takes me to a load of land with two businesses marked: A pet groomer and a clearance company. Clearance companies. They charge you to take the stuff. They charge you to keep it. Then if it’s good they go quiet and hope you stop paying and then they flog it. Triple profit. Land for profit.

Today has just been booking the van and my two hands to get this stuff out. Siwan will be at Old Street to take the clothes so I’m gonna cut her in as well. There’ll be loads of unexpected costs and I know for certain that the tip is gonna be pricey. But I’m in a happy place that I’ll be able to pay my friends, pay myself and solve a problem without being greedy. You’ll know on Monday night how it falls. It’ll either be triumph or disaster. I’m registered now though as an official government certificated waste disposal thingummy.

Maddy is in Albania so it off just Brian and I at home, plus cats. He’s downloaded The Elder Scrolls Oblivion Remastered, which is the game I was playing when I completely quit games and trained as an actor, but not it’s remastered. I missed at least ten years of games starting with most of that  – a true flawed masterpiece, preserved in all its wonky glory. I didn’t have the headspace to do it anymore, I needed to put in the bedrock of an acting career, not gather 30 Nirnroot. The horse of absolute justice, the NPC voice actor who says “hang on wait I can do that better” and repeats himself, people having banal conversations while oblivious to the fact they’re on fire. It is a brilliant mess. There’s so much to love in the ambition of trying to make a whole world that long ago. They pushed the boundaries. And they pushed me out by making it so big I couldn’t comprehend it anymore.

I’ll never catch up on games now, my attention span isn’t there for them. As a teenager I could do whole weekends being a completionist, but the undimmed sun is much more interesting. Now I play for the story. I’m not trying to get every damn chocobo. Still … today I picked up the old Steam Deck and pushed further into Baldurs Gate 3, got as far as my mate John Hopkins who voices the dad of one of the playable characters. He’s been tortured for twenty years non stop when you meet him. It’s always funny meeting friends in these games. I killed Katie in Witcher 2. John isn’t alive anymore either in my play through, but he very eloquently begged for death and I didn’t have to actively stab him like Katie. I tried to take a video so he can see himself in context. My playthrough will be very different from others, I’m sure there are many options for his character, but I’m at war with Shar the dark moon goddess of loss, and aligned with Selune her light moon rival. John was collateral.

It’ll take forever for me to finish this game, but when I get a day like this it is valuable. We ate well, had occasional conversations, and consumed media. It’s just another way of telling stories. I’ve always been a fan.