Gosh. I just clicked in on my blog to write something and lo and behold, there is that moody landscape photo of the Dent de Rez. Thank you Gareth. I wonder when he managed to find the time to do that today. I dropped him off at Montelimar train station at 08h30 so he must have got in to Paris Gare de Lyon at around 11h, dashed to his studio, done the cleaning, hung the sheets out to dry, bombed back to his Montreuil home, watered the tomatoes and courgettes, grabbed his holiday rucksack (or maybe he’s updated to a suitcase nowadays although somehow I doubt it), downed some tea, sprinted back to his studio, made the bed, welcomed the Taiwanese girls, given them the keys and rental rules (DO NOT TOUCH MIRROR – WILL SHATTER!), grabbed their travellers cheques, pegged it back to Gare de Lyon and pole-jumped onto the train to Barcelona. So how he managed to find the time to get online and put my photo up, I do not know. Gareth, thank you. And I hope you see that I am indeed writing something on this blog EVERY SINGLE DAY. I know you opened it up just yesterday but so far so good. All the while you were sweating your way willy nilly across Paris I was drinking coffee with your beloved and swimming up and down up and down in the outdoors olympic sized pool in Montelimar. Then we had a civilised lunch (which means the portions were tiny and the plate had an art deco dribble of liquid plum umeboshi along the edge) before saying goodbye. Your lover went down to Sete and I headed off to Géant Casino to work on the till. Actually that’s a lie – I just did some shopping and bought a pop-up tent for tomorrow’s little visitors. The till girl thing is something I started up as a joke until I realised certain friends believed me. Hmmm. The fact they so easily believe I’ve resorted to working in a supermarket due to a lack of theatre work says a lot about what they think of my acting talent. And maybe this is the boy who cried wolf. Maybe I really WON’T get any acting work and will in fact end up working on the till. And when that really does happen they won’t believe me. To end with, here’s a poem I wrote to Harry. The cashier joke turned into a warehouse packer joke thanks to him.
As I pack the chicken thighs
I think of you and your rooster eyes
As I pack the frozen fish
I think of you and make a wish
That one day you’ll be by my side
Packing poultry and fish with pride.
Claire Harrison-Bullett, 20th July 2008