Agency Blues

Tuesday has been strangely long. It feels like I have packed an awful lot into a very short time. But Tuesday was the way of all my days starting at 7.00 and finishing a little time before 2.00.
I liked my walk to Leicester Square full of dogs and leaves. Cold air and smiles.
I had greetings from a cornucopia of canines. I had my sleeves rolled down over my fingers to keep them warm. It felt almost normal to have a frosty walk on the first of December.
I do not like the paranoia surrounding climate change. there is so much we/they could do if we/them wanted to. It feels less like climate control and more like people control. There are too many of us so they are frightening us to death.

Kimberly came and watched the show. A young woman of charm and humility. A young woman who was thrown out of a posh school because they said she wasn’t bright enough. She has carried the stigma of those snobby teachers for all her young life. She has been anorexic, neurotic and insecure because of those insensitive, sarcastic teachers.
I say stuff those horrible educators. The top rated Primary school in London did it because they dumped the tables, the targets and the tosser teachers who make kids feel bad about themselves.
Then my agent called. For reasons best known to him and me he has decided to take time out from being an agent. So, as I write, I am now rudderless with a contract to be negotiated and a future to be re-directed.
I cried from Piccadilly to Battersea Bridge on the Number 19 bus, talked to the daughter who told me to stop the tears and own my frustration. I stood by the boy, only to be dumped when I least need it. My mourning lasted long enough for me to arrive back at the flat.
Laurie and Jessie cooked up a delicious wild rice supper which filled my belly. Walked out to a party in a fave restaurant. I arrived two hours too late and missed the carols and the prayers. Instead I got a Jingoistic version of ‘Land of Hope and Glory’, sung by a lot of Hooray Henry’s and nice but dim blondes. It was almost frightening being in the middle of a room full of very brash, noisy young Englishers who couldn’t sing, were much taller than I and had a visceral understanding of what it is like to be the owning class. I stayed three minutes then left.
The cold air calmed me down.
Ten minutes later I was in my pyjamas watching telly, the news and then Sykped the old man who was at home with a fire and the cat.
I now have to sleep in order to walk to my acupuncturist who has been in Costa Rica for two weeks. She’ll be jet lagged and I’ll be late.