Friday, wrote Mr Kipling, and having had a successful Friday at work, getting that report out, and having met acting cohort Kristen for Vietnamese lunch by Mornington Crescent, I decided to piss off home early. When I got home I took advantage of Mairi being away visiting family with the dog by having a big orgy with all my weird friends.
Actually I put some washing on and vacuumed. But by God it felt like an orgy – an orgy of domesticity. Then Robin called for a chat, so we went to the Ramble Inn for a couple of pints. Actually, I had a couple, Robin had a miniature bottle of Merlot like what you’d get in a Travel Tavern. But that’s fine, it doesn’t reflect badly on him at all. He’s in the process of buying a flat in sunny Brixton, so he needs all the help he can get, and it would be a shit indeed who begrudged him that.
Robin asked me to check over his new website – you can too! Lots of updated stuff about his more recent performances. I told him about Arturo Ui, and we did our usual best-mates chat thing. I invited him in for a finger of 12-year-old, which we enjoyed while playing old vinyl and reminiscing. Tom Tom Club! Laibach! Elvis Costello! Hawkwind! Baby Ford! Diamanda Galas! Ahh, heady days…
Then on Saturday I slept in, did the first page for Mairi’s Mum’s company’s webpage, and ate lunch at the cafe while highlighting my lines in my script, trying not to draw attention to myself with my big highlighted script in the window.
Saturday evening was time for birthday drinks for David, who is always kind enough to come and see my plays, so it was only fair to force myself out to a pub to buy him a drink. It was good to see a lot of people I haven’t for a while. Lots of great stories from people, but the ultimate was Rachels tale of RIDING HER BICYCLE INTO THE CANAL AND COLLECTING IT THE FOLLOWING DAY. Not much more can be said about that, really.
I spoke to a friend who knows someone who is making a TV comedy pilot, and needs male actors. Hmmm. I’ll watch out for that email.
I did my usual trick of drinking too much and missing the tube, and then paying too much for a taxi. Sunday I felt a bit rough, so we took Shug to the common and I had another cafe lunch, which went cold very quickly in the chilly breeze. It’s hard to eat egg & bacon with gloves on. Talk about mad dogs and Englishmen.