AlBarclay

It’s taken Lou and I about three years to watch the whole of His Dark Materials. We finally got to the last episode this evening.

Typically in the time we’ve taken watching it I ended up working with Will who plays a baddie, but was already dead by the time I met him so I don’t get to witness his work through the prism of my fondness for him. I might go back and watch his final episode. His daughter is in it too and now I know that I can’t not see his face in hers. It added an extra layer of pleasure, buoyed up further by the fact that Metatron is played by one of the founders of The Factory, Al, who I met last millennium at our Guildhall first round audition.

It’s a lovely way to tell a complicated story. The costumes are great, it looks as good as it can with a BBC budget, and they have employed some real depth of acting talent – it isn’t just a pile of vapid twits with followers. Way to go the BBC. I expect it is always gonna be a hard sell to the US market that story. It is too complicated about religion to pass muster with any group of people who are using a specific faith to justify bigotry. Casting a much loved story is always an absolute bugger, because if people can read they’ve already imagined what everyone looks like. I cried after Neverending Story. I switched off the BBC Lion Witch and Wardrobe and refused to acknowledge it existed, aged 8ish.

I recognised the bench at the end of Dark Materials immediately – it was around there in those Oxford botanical gardens on a freezing cold winter’s day that I split up with my first girlfriend Anna. “I bet that’s crowded these days at midsummer,” Lou remarks, and she’s right. There’s probably a queue these days. People probably bring their cats.

I had a quiet day. Sent my bank details to the cops so if the geezer who broke into my car in Brighton ages ago pays his fine I’ll get a little bit of compensation. I would prefer it if they had found the guy in Camden so smashed my window in broad daylight over an easily measured half hour period and nicked my accordion. I’m still trying to replace it. I’m gonna need one like it very soon and can’t find one shy of £350… Fingers crossed.

Full night and Lou fancied a walk in the park. I haven’t been there much at night. Foxes and it was busy still after the fireworks. It’s been wonderful having her here but we are ships in the night and she’s about to go off for months and months, and so am I. I’m proud of her, the work she’s doing, the way she’s going about it. It’s a huge job but she has the skillset. But she’s asleep already and it’s early for me. So I’m writing in the living room while she drifts off next door.

Brian is playing VR next to me. It’s how he stays in touch with his best mate in Manchester, and it helps him wind down. He needs that right now – jet lag and a difficult slice of life, and Maddy is the other side of the world. Him and Robin run around shooting people and nicking their stuff, and occasionally getting shot back. While he sits in his chair he occasionally performs extremely complicated reloads, or winds up rope or climbs ladders. The cats watch him, both fascinated and baffled.

The games in this household have made it easier for the cats at this time of year. Bang bang bang all the time through the VR and they view it merely as a mild curiousity. Bang bang bang through the fireworks and it is much the same. Misty just ignores it and Boo just wants to know where it is coming from so she can make friends with it.

—

Now I’m bathed and very glad of this unseasonably mild weather. Bergman sailed through his MOT this morning, and I took the opportunity to go and check on my friend’s mother’s place. I’m a keyholder and I like to go there occasionally since the neighbour broke in and changed the locks when she realised it was empty. He’s in the middle east, but I’ve known him since I was 8.

Happily home, warm and toasty in bed, around about the time I might normally be finishing the walk. It’s raining outside.

Many of the masks and costume bits are in my car. I’ll decant them to the attic at some point soon, labelled up. They’re only useful for a month. No point having them in the corner of the living room for the other eleven months of the year.

Siwan and I wound up strategising. Why the hell not have two of them running simultaneously next year – there are some creepy tales and great pubs in Chelsea.

I do need to sort my own life out too though. This next month is going to be unusually empty of work, but the one after it is shaping up to be absolutely fucking carnagetastic. I’ll need Christmas Day to fall flat on my face, but Brian and I are doing the usual and I’ll be sober so I’ll be able to drive the sleigh and get people home at night which opens up all sorts of possibilities. But before all that madness begins wouldn’t it be nice to put my house in order and address the things I’m constantly dropping and ignoring.

If only I was wired to get my missing dopamine out of filling in forms and bringing in money, rather than moving things around or telling stories. Gonna have to trick myself into it sometime or other. Much is still undone. Mummy and daddy very much not going to do it for me.

I booked an MOT and so far so good, nobody has jumped up my arse for being late with tax. I think you get a week of grace. I can get these things done, jiggle my diary, and find time to relax so I’m ready for December, and perhaps I can go visit an old friend in Hungary and empty out some more expensive storage. Making lists helps, as I learnt from Lou.

It’s great having her here. She’s asleep beside me as I write. She’s working hard – we have had opposite schedules. I try to wake up early, see her off to work, go back to sleep a bit, then get stuck into the day and finish later than her. Usually she’s been asleep by the time I’ve got back from walkies.

I was fiddling with AI in an idle two minutes and described an image for next year’s walk that will overcome the fact it was advertised with a gravestone saying “last year” this year. It still might be the last year, Siwan will need to be persuaded, but I’m holding out hope.

A strange day.

A good friend of mine flew back to London from New Zealand. He had a small claims hearing.

His best mate got the train down from Manchester to be there. His business partner and I just had to get up in the morning and get across town. We didn’t need to be there. Just there to support.

There’s a queue outside the county court and then you have to go through the metal detector. It’s all quite intimidating but if you’ve seen the video of Marianne Bachmeier you’ll know why it happens. Lots of people coming in in the morning. What has everyone been up to?

I was just there as emotional support really, I didn’t go into the hearing itself. They were out almost immediately though as the judge encouraged them to settle. A settlement was reached, with lawyers mediating. It was all a very sad thing. I’m glad it’s over.

My first time in a court of law though, even if it was just to support a small claim, still a weird experience.

Afterwards we all went to Dulwich and to this colossal venue that they are running – a castle in the middle of an estate. The best friend and I just hung around a bit and ate Wingstop for lunch. Emotions were still running high after the settlement, not because of the settlement, just because of the circumstances that led to it. I don’t want to write about it – it doesn’t feel like it’s my thing to write about, but it felt … correct to spend the day in the little group that’d met at the courthouse this morning.

In the evening an early dinner with Lou and Brian, frying up some of the excellent chorizo I bought from The Hampstead Butcher, and throwing it into a bowl of pasta pesto and kale. Easy and tasty comfort food. Then I played with Boo and she accidentally pawed my face with her ferociously sharp back claws and now I have a little straight gash on my cheek that I reckon will be showing for a week or two and for the first time in ages I’m glad I’m not on set right now.

A sad day but it’s done now. As Brian would say, Onwards for Glory.

And we are done. What a delightful little chapter as we fall into winter. A charming shouty stroll across the blasted heath. Tonight not so blasted either. A very quiet calm clear night, a bright moon and stars in a clear sky. We go into the dark together and this evening I didn’t have to shout. I just chose to.

Lou was there. Normally she’s asleep by the time we are halfway through. She stuck it out through the whole evening, with Canice for company. It felt like a lovely close. Siwan and Jo and John all on good form, all trying out new material even though we might never do this again. Every time I do this it feels more fun and more felt – and more right. A creative outlet, and gradually getting to know the mechanics behind ticket sales and marketing etc but on a low low budget. You get back what you pay for if you’re smart about it. But it’s all work behind the work. The team loves the execution, but we have less fun with the admin, for which Siwan is basically a one woman band, and of which Siwan is growing mightily fed up.

I get it. We all want to go play on the heath together. On nights like this it is just silly friends being spooky and fun and clever together for the public. If we could do that gainfully without all the admin then we bloody well would, every night of the year. But for every good front end there’s a good back end. The front end neighs but the back end does the walking.

It’s late here and everyone is asleep. Brian is back from New Zealand and likely to be jetlagged to bits. We’ve got someone on the sofa, we are a full house. The cats aren’t sure if they’re happy about it or weirded out about it.

This Halloween Walk has been a lovely expression of our peculiar personalities, the five of us in the team. The audience has come along with us every time. Despite my threats, nobody actually died. Hopefully more fun and no death next year… I’m thinking about Creepy Chelsea as well… But hey, I might well be too busy on set.

I’ve learnt to be compassionate about people who think driving is an effort. For a long time it baffled me. Now it just annoys me.

For instance, Lou worked at Glyndebourne with someone who was driving back every night to a place that was close to hers. Even though the person knew it, there was never an offer to help her either going in or going out. She was on the coach and then the train. She even asked: “I could cycle to yours, leave my cycle outside yours and jump in with you, then cycle back from yours?” “Oh no, it’s not a safe area to lock cycles in.” That’s more about the “no” than the reason. It’s a panic response from someone who defaults to “no”. I thought about it for a while as I couldn’t fathom why someone would not be willing to help in that way. It’s easy to think they only care about themselves or they are lazy or mean. But actually I think it is more likely that they are nervous drivers. Driving a car is a scary thing to them. The longer they are driving a car the scarier. Unfamiliar routes are scary too. And passengers are terrifying as they might find them out or be at risk or other imaginationthings.

Also I guess there are some people who find it easier to say “no” than “yes”. As a great big “yes” that’s another one I struggle to make sense of.

Jo sometimes picks me up before the walk. We end it a long way from where we start and I’m in costume so it’s nice to park at the end and somehow get transport to the beginning. The Old Bull and Bush is in an area that Lime Bikes think of as Heath and don’t let you park. If Jo won’t pick me up, I get a bus beforehand and feel like a tit in my costume but get there and know my car is parked at the end. Tonight she didn’t want to pick me up. I think it adds about ten minutes to her day but she’s older than I am and if I’m tired she’s likely tired double. Hey ho.

The walk was a glory tonight anyway. Two friends of mine from Guildhall in the audience. It is rare that anyone I actually know comes. I don’t shout about it. It was lovely to have them in, I sat with them for a wee while after, but then I had to get myself back to the car. I only left about twenty minutes after Jo, but she decided she was leaving immediately this evening even despite at one point offering to take me back to my car at the end.

I’ve enjoyed this year very much, this tour, this group. It’s a fun thing to do at this time of year and makes people happy. It has provided the solution to my money worries recently, even if it’s just tickover cash. I just don’t want it taking more of my life than it has to, because … it’s just tickover cash.

I think we will be back next year. Let’s see. We ran into a rival tour group on the same route as us. I delayed and they went ahead and fuck me they were dry. Siwan got to hear a load of their stuff while she was waiting to pop up in the graveyard. We were a colourful group up the hill from them, sending waves of laughter as John and I both extended our schticks to give them time for “in November 1853 the law changed after an act of parliament that had been submitted in April of that year by messrs Goatley, Flump and Mungus was finally passed, stating that groups of people using public byways that pass private houses in the areas of London delineated in this tiny map I’m holding could be exempt from the 1851 byways ruling whereby etc etc”

I could see people looking winsomely at our laughter as that stuff unfolded in front of them. Horses for courses I guess.

As ever I’m knackered as I write this. Won’t proofread it. This is my noise tonight. Wake well, my darlings.

Fucking hell. That was a Halloween alright.

Just as we started, the heavens opened. I didn’t have my rainproof cape. Loads of people all dressed up in remarkable costumes, and the rain came down. They had umbrellas, many of them. I didn’t.

We swore them on the horns and it started. Apart from on the boats, I have never been so exposed in such weather. And the boats lent us waterproofs. Tonight I was out in it. Cats and dogs. Jimmy Reid in relative shelter. I got Alex the drummer to be Joseph de Havilland, saving the world, and that was when it really opened. I saw a flash as lightning hit a puddle down the way. The sky chose the most exposed half an hour of the walk to absolutely fucking dump on us.

I had a stovepipe hat and a riding cape. They are both utterly drenched. The cape is now as heavy as a bear. Puddles accumulated in moments that were so deep we had no choice but to go round en masse. My walking boots are usually excellent. They took me through some pretty leechy days in Japan with dry feet. I got home tonight and had to take them off. So wet. Thankfully quite mild temperature, but that was a right fucking rainstorm and nothing like it on the forecast. “Do you have any idea how much it cost us to lay on these special effects?” *Dying inside*

Thank fuck the audience tonight was loyalists. You don’t get to book our tour on Halloween night if you’re not into it – we sell that night pretty much as soon as it goes live. They had decided to have a good time and by jingo they did. I just had to do the shouting. Lots of familiar faces. This is my fourth time with this now over five years.

I got home and dried my feet. On the way home I ordered a pizza. I sat downstairs to wait for it so Lou didn’t get woken by the bell.

Now the bath is running and I’m wolfing expensive cheesy tomatobread. And you know what, I had a fucking great time and despite the rain it is still pretty warm.

Someone collapsed in the pub though in the interval. An ambulance took him to hospital. His friends showed up later in the pub at the end. “He’s fine, he’s pissed off he missed the second half. So are we. He sent us here to say sorry.” I have no idea what happened to him, I’m happy he’s ok and I’m also glad we have double bubble on public liability insurance. Glad we didn’t kill someone for Halloween, much as I tell them from the start that I’m marching them to their death. Halloween. I feel like the walking dead. Bath will sort me right out.

Hi.

I’m glad I love what I do.

After the walk last night I was exhausted. I don’t think I had taken inventory. I slept a bit but woke up so I could morning it with Lou. As soon as she went to work I was down like a rock into a stream and slept with unusual dreams and cats until my cleaning lady woke me up at about eleven. Then I started a VISA application in bed.

It takes a VISA application, it seems, for the penny to drop that oh yes, of course, I have a job. A job I have. Acting I will be doing for gainful monies in the United States of America. Oh the joys. First though the paperwork. How old was your father? Last few trips to America? Do you like murdering? How many times have you eaten grouse?

I was dozy though, still, fighting through the paperwork. I think my body is battling something off again. Change of seasons and all that. Throat lurgy, but then I’m using my voice a great deal outdoors right now.

At 4pm I finally abandoned the admin, mostly completed, and I gathered up my costume bits and off off off to The Globe. Same client, slightly different material. We did it intimately and were much less hectic. Could have been unmiked this time, but the microphone meant we could speak quietly. We both have the technique, but we also both do film so we can split the difference. Happy client, happy us. And it all ran very quickly.

They fed us too. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. Usually it’s to do with how frantic it is in the kitchen. They had time this evening and we both got a beef wellington, some paté and some apple crumble.

I don’t even want to think about how many years I’ve been doing event type stuff in that building, it’ll make me realise how old I am. Event stuff, Education stuff. There are a few people I know who have done all three. I need the third.

I’m home now. Ffion and I again, cementing our working relationship. I’m gonna leave her with my costume when I go to America. If they book any dates when I’m away I have many actors I would gladly recommend and rely on. The ones who are left. Confident, stubborn, touched, kind, strange, human and so varied but bound by a string of shared experience and practical optimism. “I’ll make this work but whilst it isn’t working I’ll get really good at this random mad thing and do it too on the side so I can eat cake and pay for tickets to watch my friends”.

Ffion could tell I’m tired. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends a bit. Even this morning, when I wasn’t fully awake I wrote an email looking for more clearance work. I do like to do things. But I kinda need to just snooze for a day. Thankfully this weekend it is just walkies.

We decided to add another date to the walk at short notice as we sold out. That was tonight. Problem was, Jo couldn’t do it. She’s the gin hag. She’s been doing this for a decade and is perfectly happy to be the spooky buxom older lady. She serves everyone their drink with boils on her face, then she pops up on the heath with a shopping list of filth, then she is a bride of Dracula, then a nun, then the ghost of a body snatcher victim. She has written monologues, she has made props, and she drives everything around behind the scenes. She’s ace.

I ended up having to be her this evening. Canice came in as the guide as we had him in the back pocket anyway because I’ve always had tomorrow at The Globe and tomorrow was always gonna be sold out at the walk. I can’t be in two places at once, more’s the pity. Canice was my solution.

The costume stuff I have in Canterbury came in very handy. I can’t actually be Jo, but I can do her track with Bergie. We had to cross load everything from her car to mine late last night. Then tonight we loaded it all back after the walk.

Evening found me wearing the most ridiculous frock and serving Vermouth to strangers in the dark. Then I drove to a little car park and jumped out from behind a tree and convinced one guy to vanish off with me for a moment, then return him and rush back and drive to a church, change into a little sequin number and be the bride of Dracula right next door to Boy George’s place.

Then back in the car and drive with the dress to the Duke of Hamilton where I had to persuade someone to come out and unzip me. Then dress up as a nun and sing, run back to the car, drive to Gaucho and let people throw things in the door as they run past, then drive to another church and put on a mask and tell a sad tale. It’s a very odd very varied populated walk and there are four people needed to run it. Lovely to understand someone else’s track. I’ve only experienced it as the guide, which is complete enough if I can have perspective on myself. Doing Jo I felt the lack of Jo. I am always gonna be a man in drag if I’m wearing a dress. Sure I can lean into it but it makes it a different show.

I’m exhausted again and it is late. I’m eating a fish pie. The cats are being glorious. Lou is fast asleep, I hope. All is well.

I just need to stop.

I would have a bath but I think I’m too tired, I might fall asleep in it or while it’s running.

Picked up John and we were out of London early, down to Dargate and loaded everything from the unit but a fuckton of cables and five candelabra. Drove it all to Canterbury for tomorrow-Al to deal with. Took ages to pack it nicely. That unit is full now. Tomorrow-Al has work to do. Today-Al drove back to Dargate, got everything and drove to the lads at Whitstable Metals who took the cable and some other bits he didn’t have headspace for. They took it. Done. Dropped the flight case back in Canterbury. Haggled over price successfully for the Canterbury unit. Closed the Dargate unit. Done and done.

Drove John to Dartford station. Out to Ipswich. Picked up a mirror. It’s a long fucking way to Ipswich. I was tired when I got there. Had to get over to Hadleigh next to get a cabinet. All the roads were closed. It was dark.

John with the cabinet is a good lad. Clearly just lost his parents after a long illness. He’s flogging everything himself rather than pay someone like me to get it all out. Only £25 cash for this cabinet and he helps me carry it in. His back is fucked. We have to stand it up in the van. I’ve got no ratchets today. I wasn’t expecting a glass cabinet. It’s 6pm.

On an unfamiliar road in Ipswich I’m using twine to secure an antique glass cabinet to the side of the van. It’s already too late in the day.

I drive back to London at ten miles an hour with the hazards on. Loose metal candelabras and a fucking insecure glass cabinet and a great big mirror – I’m not taking any chances. I eventually get it dropped off and I’m so tired on my way home I drive over a “bus gate” and down a street that is clearly for buses only. That’ll be my whole days payment I reckon to TFL with admin fees from the van hire company.

I’m exhausted. At least I got fed. And the unit in dargate is empty. And some of my costs were covered, depending on bus lane fine. Jesus how is anyone supposed to make a living being self employed. It’s almost like they are trying to force people to join the system. Maybe I should be in Cyber?

Caroline and James gave me ramen. Better than a steak bake.

I’m going to sleep. Oh fuck and it was my mum’s birthday.