AlBarclay

I have allowed myself to get sucked into Clarkson’s Farm. I’m surprised but it has drawn me in completely. His personality is familiar to me. And the way he gets stuck in while being clueless. He might be punchy but I get his noise. Watch this space for, ah whatever I can pitch… Barclay’s Ridiculous Unplanned DangerTravel…

I can’t talk about danger though. On Brian’s suggestion I have downloaded an app that tells me when there’s an air raid in Kyiv. “It’s a weird equivalent of those lights you can touch that light up on it other side of the world” This evening the siren went off and I spoke to Brian. “Yeah I know it’s crap, I’ve just ordered a burger.”

He was in his hotel. He chose to stay up and have his burger. Better die immediately than get trapped under the rubble. Wherever the missiles were felled / fell he could hear the explosions. I think it’s brilliant and mad. When he told me he was going my reaction was “It’s hotter in Gaza”.

I’ve done it before but Brian is sharing his Ukraine stuff on a WordPress here. https://brianhook0.wordpress.com/2024/05/24/journey-to-ukraine-exploring-art-stories-and-cultural-resilience/?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR3dneOejhuXmCrcDZRM8YFrDuaqW1qUFAstCo1YznOXTrs4aDz8Y0fBURw_aem_AQnBLWL4_W9J2qSNyvdQbk231D3iZhgcV7ZmPoCJ5ZMkz8zwGWXZD_ZslyvlxYI-V8DTjEwBTZmZPMlEJWlCfujw

I am proud of him for being bonkers and doing this. The air alert app is brilliantly voiced by Mark Hamill, and when he gives you the all clear he says “May the force be with you”. I’m happy to have the possibility of being woken up by a siren and Luke Skywalker so I can stay in touch with the hook while he is on his travels. And I like that the app uses the idea of “the force” which was something a lot of us used as a cultural touchpoint for how we intuited the universe worked. Until the new episodes fucked it by bringing in midichlorian particles.

This is another all over the place blog but I’m tired. I’ve only been line learning but there’s loads of them to learn and very little time.

“You’re too trusting,” says Lou. I’ve come to realise over the years that I am. Occasionally I lose a bit of innocence though. This morning was one of those occasions.

It’s never nice being stolen from. As I drove home from Brighton this evening, the spectre of the guy who got into my car last night came with me. He took his time in there. You’re finding out about it now, you haven’t missed anything. I’m just writing about it strangely because I feel pretty strange about it. Bastard.

I left my bank card visible in the bit between seats. Also $150 in cash and a pair of sunglasses. Also THE SPARE KEY. Plus a bottle of port, some shortbread, my bose speaker, a mushroom knife and a cap gun. Plus loads of other things that they didn’t take. That’s the stuff I’ve noticed is gone. Maybe some other bits. It was very car boot in there and he took his time and didn’t miss much. He left the gold frock coat and my Gucci shoes.

The spare key though… That’s dumb. I’ll have to get an immobilizer. He was an opportunist, perhaps. But how did he open the door? No signs of force. I’ve reported it as an electronic theft.

Some time around 5am it happened. I was parked on the seafront in Brighton. It’s busy with wreckheads. This really went through everything. He was still awake at 10:03, but that’s the last transaction. Perhaps he couldn’t drive or knew that stealing a car carries greater penalties than using a stolen card – but he still took the spare key which is gonna be a security risk…

I woke up and thankfully logged into my online banking to pay my credit card. I noticed 3 unfamiliar transactions starting at 6am in Budgens. I cancelled my card and went to check Bergie. He was closed, which was likely a passer-by. Carnage inside. I stood looking at it shocked and rang the local police. My parking was about to expire but “that can wait” I thought.

As I was filing the theft report, a traffic warden came and stood beside my car. “This is my car, it’s just been robbed,” I told the guy. “I’m filing a theft report. I can’t get in it until they tell me whether they’re going to do forensics.” “Take your time,” says the warden companionably, and I see him starting to input my number. In disbelief I open the app on speakerphone and I pay £1.90 while reporting the theft. The bastard moves on. He would have tricketed me as I stood there.

I’ve got a report now and my bank tells me the transactions they made will come back to me. I do some amateur sleuthing and establish that whoever used my card was caught on CCTV at Cex in town. The manager lets me have his email to give to the cops. It’s doubtful things will come back to me but good to be able to help them try.

The initial haul on entering the car was so good that I think that’s why they took their time in there. I won’t be leaving nice things in the car again. Damn. It feels weird knowing they were in there for so long. I’ve lost a bit of trust… Still, could’ve been much worse. I could’ve woken up to no car as well as an empty bank.

Lou bought me breakfast and I drove back home with the spectre of the thief next to me. Maybe the key will turn out not to have been in it. I was worried my iPad was, but it’s at home so fingers crossed it is here somewhere and that’s why they didn’t drive off with it…

It’s a warm evening by the sea. A bit breezy but the day has just got nicer and nicer. I’m in bed but might get up again. I’m just keeping Lou company and she’s in need of an early bed. She’s had lots of late nights in a row, and she’s about to go work a festival for four days so needs to have a full tank.

It’s still light outside, as we move to the solstice. These long bright evenings. The wind from the sea is carrying some murderous bass from Concorde 2. Or maybe someone has a van full of speakers on the beach. They get up to all sorts here in Brighton on bank holiday. You’d think after the state everyone was in last night at the Spiegeltent that nobody would have woken up yet. Not so. The party goes on and on in Brighton.

We lay on the beach for hours, in a little sheltered patch near Shoreham. We drove out that way to buy some fish from the fresh fish place, and ended up lounging around with the monkfish in the glove compartment. Very few people on the beach, and yes we had a sheltered bit, but there were plenty of breakwaters. Why the Russian family decided to sit a few feet from us is hard to fathom, unless they just decided the whole beach was theirs and we were an obstacle. They might not have been Russian, that’s just a guess based on behaviour and vague language recognition. We still managed to relax mostly. It was just irksome. One of them seemed to have developed the ability to keep talking even on the inbreath, like didgeridoo players.

I tuned them out and watched the wind surfers, admiring their stamina, coveting their skill and kit. All you need is time, a van, a place near enough to the sea to warm up after, a decent wet suit, a load of expensive kit, good balance, core strength, someone to teach you, patience, cold resistance, youth, maybe a community of like minded friends. I’d do it if I had an army of masseurs waiting with a boiling onsen on a beach surrounded by barbeque bonfires for when my team of instructors brought me back in. I’ll leave that for the emperor version of me right now though. One day maybe I’ll live near some sea. Then I’ll work out how to light the fires.

Monkfish curry for dinner. I’m glad I’m with Lou this bank holiday as the other options likely involve getting drunk. This weekend has already felt restorative and calming and there’s a day left. Back to the grind Tuesday. Still really trying to find some consistent work to fill the gap until late August. It’s great having a job to look forward to, even if I can’t blog about it yet. I just want to make sure the time between ain’t idle.

I haven’t been out on a Saturday night for a while and this was a reminder why not.

Bank Holiday Weekend in Brighton and I’ve picked Lou up from work but it’s about half past ten by the time we are outside the Spiegeltent. She used to work with Guilty Pleasures. Sean is playing the tent tonight. “It’d be nice to stop by and say hello to him,” she said a couple of days ago. At the time I pictured a nice tent, sticking our head in the back, a few people, a quick hello.

I’m not in the headspace for a club night but this is just a hello. She worked closely with him for years. I’m just there next to her in a hat and she’s on old ground.

We find a parking space just over the road from the tent. Miracle. We cross the road. It immediately becomes clear that this isn’t going to be what we pictured. This is a club at half ten on a Saturday night on a bank holiday. Oh hell.

The queue is vast.

Everyone is hammered.

I’m immediately halfway home in my imagination but Lou is determined. She gets to the front of the queue round the side, where a beleaguered bouncer is doing crowd management on all the people trying to talk their way in the same route. She has no real cards to play but she plays them all. This is only gonna be solved with a phone call but she doesn’t want to make it. Bouncer is neither helpful nor interested. There’s been police tonight in the tent, and an ambulance. There’s a guy in the same place as us trying something that looks similar, and he is so fucking drunk that he is phasing in and out of reality. All of his sentences are drawling nonsense and beer breath. We are not in the right place to get in anywhere here. We look like polite versions of him.

We end up talking to some people through a fence. Still no luck though and I’m completely over it as all we wanted to do was say “hello” to someone and he started playing about fifteen minutes ago. This is not about anything other than principle though, as the guy who is pretending to be helpful is actually not being honest with Lou and she knows it.

The extent to which I don’t want to go to Guilty Pleasures with all the drunk people in Brighton is so vast that it has broken all the scales. I’m there with Lou, kinda hoping we don’t get in so we can get the heck away from this tent full of drunk. I appreciate that she is just being sober and pleasant and wishing that the world was different. But the world isn’t different tonight, the world is a drunk mess and crowd control has had to take precedence over listening.

We give up before it starts raining. The whole interaction takes some time to wind out. Saturday nights are a stupid time to go out at the best of times, and at the Spiegel at the end of the festival on a bank holiday Saturday? It’s never gonna be anything other than hell.

We are home now and it has started raining, and mostly I’m just glad that I did plenty of that crap when I was in my twenties and thirties. The appeal has dropped off a bit, but I’m older and uglier now. And wiser? hmm

It’s bedtime and I was about to switch my head off. Then I remembered: Blog!

Brian has just randomly fucked off to Ukraine. I wholeheartedly support this. I thought he should use WordPress to make a daily blog. He solicited such a suggestion. Here’s the first one .. Read it and hopefully he’ll do more.

Why did I recommend WordPress when it has been expensive and largely unhelpful to me? Entropy.

It is functional. Maybe one day I’ll pay the extra fifty quid a year that lets me put a button on where you can bung me filthy monies.

Brian is off in Ukraine for reasons. I enjoy and connect with his thinking around it. I’m proud that he’s documenting it. I might not go back over my own noise, but the very making of it helps me clarify my thoughts within it. Brian has been moved to go to a warzone. The Ukraine is vast and the war is not yet universal, so I’m expecting some reactions to his stuff like my friend who watched some YouTube idiots drive over the border with cars full of clothes and behave perplexedly when nobody was immediately shooting. The friend used it to try and tell me there was no war in Ukraine. “Everyone was just going about their business as usual.” They’re a pattern matcher. We were in Hastings at the time, South of a tiny country compared to Ukraine. I suggested that if there was war in Liverpool we might not hear the shells.

I had posh dinner with a friend. It was nom. This morning I lay with Lou as the tide came right to our feet. I came back up for connection and experience. Glad I did. But I’m done with awake now. I was inches from going flat when I remembered this. Every day? What did I think I was gonna achieve? One day I’ll drop it, surely…

Not today.

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre again, this time to take in their Twelfth Night. I saw their Richard III when I was still at university and even then it really struck me. They put on a good show there, and employ embodied actors. The company was muscular and clear in their delivery. It was a lovely show to be able to see and a better night than many on which to see it.

Some wonderful actor-singing. Some lovely clear decisions and fun choices. Plenty of truth and plenty of joy – the cocktail for a good Shakespeare. It’s one of the ones I know backwards and forwards and inside out now, Twelfth Night. My surprises come in choices made. I had plenty of surprises. The time zipped by.

Lou was with me. She often makes for the designer. She had come up in the afternoon. It’s rare to catch her in London but there she was. Lunch at mine and then over to the park for the show. The flowers are in bloom up there – all sorts of roses poking out and big purple alliums like magic wands covered in bees. The desperation of nature in London at springtime.

And it’s a full moon tonight – huge in the sky as we drove back down to Brighton. Sagittarius, red and warm, fire to kindle new enterprises. The foxes are all running the streets and howling. Here now in Spring at last despite the weather, new things are popping up, change is gonna come, things can only get better. A summer at last, perhaps. Before I get down to some Shakespeare.

Lovely to catch an old standard under the lights in the park. It’s such a well appointed place, that theatre. I’ve long wanted to work there – even wrote them all the letters back when I was young and thought that my earnest and mawkish letters might make a positive difference. Now a quick night with lovely Lou in the full moon by the sea, and then I’ll be a bit of a yo-yo to London and back to make the most of Lou before her work takes over.

Bedtime now though, just as the foxes are waking up into the blossom moon.

This incredible shitshow we have all had to witness in this country is finally shifting to another act. It’s scary though.

Lou is rarely interested in politics, having her eyes on the bigger picture. Even she expressed concern that the infected blood payouts might be the nail in the coffin for the NHS. I like to think that considering Captain Tom’s millions went to NHS Trusts, so too the money out will not come from the thing that stops poor people dying.

Tonight in the rain we watched the end of these nincompoops. Rishi Sunak, who is on the Sunday times rich list above the king, was advised to go out and make a speech half an hour before the torrential rain stopped, just so that he could do it before too many votes of no confidence came in. He inexplicably stood there with no umbrella and got absolutely drenched calling a general election for Independence Day, not because it is best for the country but because it is best for HIM. He didn’t want to lose just yet.

How the hell do people kid themselves into thinking that these people have the interests of the country even slightly on their agenda? He didn’t even act in the interests of his party. When his back was against the wall, he served his own interests for a few more weeks at number ten and the chance to say he controlled his own destiny. And this is what we’ve had, again and again and again. I have had Tory friends tell me flat faced that millions of deaths are justifiable if the eventual fiscal outcome is positive. “We GAVE partition to India and look at their economy now”. These idiots. The latest batch of elected goons haven’t come close to a positive fiscal outcome. Rishi is trying to buy us with eat out to help out. He’s lost his backing. What the hell did he think he was doing selling out his own party for a month more at number ten? I am not a conservative, but had I been I would want virtually any outcome other than this one. He’s pissed in his own creek.

Will Keir Starmer be able to redress the damage they’ve done to healthcare? That’s the biggest battlefront for many, but the battle has been won now as this idiot has shown himself protecting his own interests above the interests of his party and, it goes without saying, of the country. We will go to the polls and this nasty self serving mess of artificial humanity will likely not get control of people’s bodies again for at least a decade. Thank fuck. Not that I trust Labour any better to be honest, but Christ we need change so I’m glad they’ve given it to it us. And all the property we developed in Rwanda has been sold anyway.

Just the formality of an election now, and we will still need to get out and vote because remember “Nobody is dumb enough to vote Brexit.” ? As a world we are getting stupider and stupider, almost by the second. The internet. So many idiots. Where are the statesmen though? How is our political class so completely lost?

A spot of mentoring this evening. I thought I’d be free to do more but as ever my work has awoken. I’ve had to cancel the mentoring quickly. The thing with mentoring is that you have to build a relationship. The thing with acting is that everything happens at last minute. Thankfully the guys at Scene and Heard build their whole model on an understanding of that. I wish that was across the board. “Please come tonight anyway,” I was told. I wish It was able to build a consistent relationship but not this time. Things come up at short notice.

Even the invigilating is getting harder now, as the person programming used to do it a month in advance and now they do it three months in advance. Too long. For most self employed with a priority, three months away is nothing but a strange theoretical place. I’m missing loads of shifts in June because she asked me how I would be fixed for June in February. Now I can tell her my June dates, but… she’s programming us like this is our priority. Like we are Exam Invigilators who also do other things… I’ll hold onto it for as long as I can, despite inconveniences and working with potatoes. But I’ll have to be the last minute guy, or say “I’m free for all of this!” only to have to revise to “I’m not free for any of this!”

So I worked with a young man today and we developed a piece of theatre about a statue that does yoga in the desert meeting a cat. It was delightful. Then I walked another young lad home with an old friend of mine – they always send two volunteers to walk the children home. Very good to catch up with my old friend… we’ve covered ground together, she and I. Life shifts and we shift with it, I guess. But there’s an old comfortable place in my heart for her friendship, and I’m glad we still have room for each other.

I’m home now and going to be kind to myself with camomile and early bed. Rainy days right now, but I still believe in summer…

…

When I eventually clawed myself from sleep, the sun was high in the sky. I wandered out into the streets of Chelsea before my eyes had properly adjusted and let the sun beat down on my head.

I can’t spend money at the moment. Got myself into too much mess. Hence the car boots. Japan was wonderful but I’ll be making that back for a long time now.

So I pounded the hayfeverish Chelsea streets instead, and enjoyed the sun on my face. Everyone is out on the streets if they can be. The city feels different.

When I was in France I bought some canned cassoulets. I figured if they do basic food better than us they probably do lazy food better than us as well. Lentils and sausages in a tin, and at car boot I realised I had a tagine that would perfectly render the contents of such a tin into food, with the application of heat.

It was disappointingly tasty. I’m now dreaming into all the interesting things I might be able to put into that pot and then cook. Couscous or lentils at base, liquid, veg and meat. There’s cheap scran to be found in using such an implement well. And I’m living in a world where eating cheap is the whole thing. It’s gonna be a tricky summer if I can’t pull off a big surprise job, and it’s at times like that when I learn new recipes that I carry through the good times.

The day has gone round, as relaxed as I had wanted. Tomorrow I’m back in the mix and tonight I’ll likely be asleep with the sun. Life is pretty good. I just need to get resourceful again.

Back to Battersea Boot. I really wasn’t prepared. I took a box out of my attic that was labelled “Greek Wedding”. It was china. I had labelled it. Bulk crap china.

That was all I took apart from the same things I took last time that didn’t sell, and a couple of bags. I really didn’t have time to organise this, but I want to keep doing it every fortnight as this stuff needs to move on. It’s why I have it. Not to keep it in my attic until I die. To shift it onwards.

My favourite sale today might have been my least satisfying. I had a box of nine beautiful and fine Victorian bone china tea cups and saucers. An American lady from Oklahoma was there, travelling back home shortly, looking for English things. She only wanted one cup and saucer. A set of eight is as good as a set of nine, and will sell the same really at a car boot sale. So I sold her the single cup and saucer and nobody else showed interest all day in the set. I wanted to get rid of it all. Heigh ho. I like the idea of someone in Oklahoma who literally has the period perfect English bone china tea set for one. Just the cup and saucer, didn’t even want the matching side plate. I hope it flies back okay. Now I’ve got eight cups and saucers and nine side plates.

Other people bought other plates. There’s an astronomical amount of tut in my attic. It is satisfying transforming it into shiny coins. And none of us felt like working today. We weren’t prepared and two of us were hungover. My morning trip around London led to a late arrival. They charge tiered start times at the boot but they don’t honour it on arrival. I had paid £5 extra for 11 – 11:30 entry and all the 11:30 guys waiting had been let in before I arrived at 11:15. That’s bad policy. I tried not to get too shirty about it but it has caused all three of us to look for other car boot sales that get good footfall in the London area, as our pitch was bollocks this week compared to every other time despite paying for a window and getting there within that window. The footfall wasn’t what I’m used to but apparently it was a big day in the football – someone proved that sport is about how much money you can eat.

I wouldn’t be very good at sport after today, but I sold some bits and made some small money. More next time, keep it going until it’s all gone. Hooray hooray etc. I’m watching Brian play a small time feudal lord in Mount and Blade: Bannerlord, which is one of those incredibly involved games that teach you how Genghis Khan happened. You start with a small group, plundering outlaws. It grows and grows and they all need to eat and want spoils and so you have to take out bigger and bigger targets until you are stopped in your tracks or you’ve eaten everything.

Today the car boot sale. Tomorrow the world. We are both enjoying a glass of Tiny Rebel.