Back into old habits. In the same place, it’s full of people. I enjoyed seeing people yesterday, am enjoying them less today. It’s too noisy, I’m not used to being amongst crowds. I prefer the sombre half-state of desertion, forgotten places, dusty grey streets, all those evocative clichéd descriptive phrases I fall into the habit … Continue reading 103. Sunday afternoon.
Borders are closed, France, Netherlands, Ireland, Canada. It’s like the siege in Passport To Pimlico. There was a train derailment today. They’re becoming commonplace now and not reported. Are we becoming numb and desensitised to everything? Monday morning, Winter solstice. I’m up quite early, it is still dark outside. Sainsbury’s is already open, with it’s … Continue reading 83. Sunday evening. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.
I came this way looking for a northwest passage of sorts. A next place, an escape from the concrete marshland, where the villagers are revolting. I’m washing my hands of all their silly art school protest projects. The rent increase is enough for me to turn my back on the place and look towards a … Continue reading 150. Wednesday. At that great Chiltern Court. Intolerably noisy.
Sunday afternoon. It is dark and grey, the vibe outside is one of Soviet-era hopelessness. Dark grey sky, dark grey concrete buildings, shortages, delays, only potatoes to live on. The last thing is a slight exaggeration, but food supplies do seem sporadic, mysterious fake-sounding brand names appearing on tinned goods, and fresh fruit is scarce. … Continue reading 81.
It’s snowing steadily again, and settling in the ruts formed yesterday. The sky is a dirty yellow colour. The day is peaceful so far. A layer of snow muffles the sounds of people and traffic, in the same way that people put foam rubber or egg boxes on walls of recording studios. I’m listening to … Continue reading 94. Tuesday morning.
New energy. No commitments. Awoke early with new clarity. Today is the last day of our old ways, tomorrow a new agenda begins. Light. Cleanliness. On Monday I made a stew and became so ill I had an out of body experience. Dehydration, green liquid, a rancid smell of decay, sweating, shivering, muscle spasms, floating. … Continue reading 73. Wednesday. Two days later.
I’m at home today, I’ve just done domestic things this morning, things I should do more often, but they are always there for me later, another day. I’m beginning to realise how it must feel to be a housewife with no responsibilities other than a home to keep, as sitcoms used to portray. June Whitfield … Continue reading 64. Tuesday. Let’s see if I make more sense today.
I've been thinking more lately about a new different life. Away from London, away from theatre, away from having to have a “job”. I'm disillusioned by that world at the moment. I have no interest in it. Performances get cancelled daily due to virus rules I am no longer able to compute. I'm supposed to … Continue reading 125. Monday, lunchtime, in a haze.
Back when lunch was allowed. I had an idea of what to write earlier but my mind is blank now. I'm feeling that I should start to contract, withdraw, and recluse away for the duration. Home, vegetables, films, painting, writing. Staying at home, early mornings, cycling, going out at night to photograph and film the … Continue reading 63. Monday afternoon. Lunch at St Pancras.
I don’t know what went wrong. I’m here now, piecing things together. Actually not piecing together. Working out what to do next. Cutting things out. Planning. New spaces. Different life. Different people. I have to do this every few years. Different writing. Different habits. Not piecing together, tearing apart. Separating good from bad. Letting go … Continue reading 11th March 2022