Confessions of a Struggling Actor

I'm starting to feel human again after an, as ever, drink fuelled weekend at home.

The wedding was great.  Me and Luke caught a flight up on Friday night and went round to visit my dad's folks once we landed.  We got there around ten, but this didn't stop my granda giving us two pints and a large nip during our short stay.  Next morning, I had a little lie in and then got in full kilt for the wedding.  I was looking good, but limping a little as we went up to my Mum's pal Doreen's house for the first drink of the day as we waited for the bus.  All the family friends joined us there, or were picked up en route.  When I was younger, I didn't much care for this crowd and though there are still some thing/people that I prefer not to spend time with, I've enjoyed it recently - now I'm an adult in their eyes.

The wedding itself was wonderful and I was placed on a singles table with some good folk.  The brother of the groom was on our table and didn't eat any of his delicious meal as he just wanted a beer.  He missed a fine feast and also the bottle of malt - all the tables were named after whiskies and a bottle of Tamnavulin was there for our consumption - well pretty much just me as no one else wanted any.  As we were among the younger element (and singles) our table was sacrificed for the bar at the end of the meal.  we didn't really mind as a greater spectacle awaited us.

As the meal ended, a full pipe band, including dancer, came in to entertain us in the hall.  they played, marched and danced brilliantly, before exiting the way they came with nary a bow or acknowledgement of the riotous applause we gave them.  More whisky and chat before escort my mum round the dance floor for a gay gordons.  The whisky soon became an anesthetic to my aching ankle and I ended up dancing to the disco later, but without my normal vigour.  No snogs, but heard that a couple of the girls thought I was very cute from other lady friends that were talking to them in the loos.  Back on the bus at the end and I remember a little sing-song on the way home.  However, we also went back to Doreen's for a while before heading home, but I have absolutely no recollection of this.  It is totally blanked from my mind.  I do not recall how long we were there, who was also there or what i did or said.  Nothing untoward, I assume as I saw everyone the next day and there was no mention of it.

This blackout really shook me up - this week I've given up fags and booze in an effort to keep the weight off and to get rid of toxins that have been flying round my system like wildfire.  Now that I have no acting plans for the first time in 12 months, I have slipped into laziness and disappointment.  i have to keep the spark going during this quiet time and turn my attentions to the business side of my career.  It's easier said than done.

On the Sunday, we went our to Alison's (the bride's mother) house for a BBQ and more drink before Luke and I caught our plane.  on the way we stopped off at my other granda's house for a cup of tea and a natter.  He was on fine form and chatted about everything under the sun.  I'm supposedly the spit of him when he was younger and we've always acted fairly similar and been close - he chose my name and he and my dear departed Gran looked after me a lot when I was tiny.  Alison's was nice, but hungover and my not very styled big hair made me look the shabbiest of all.  We then heard that there were massive delays to our flights back to London, so then spent the rest of our time there searching the internet, teletext and phonelines for information.  Without getting a straight answer rfom anyone, we headefd off to make sure we at least made the check in.  As it was we were delayed by nearly 2 hours.  Sarah would have liked it to have been cancelled so she could have Luke for an extra day, but it went off as planned - albeit rather late.  By the time we picked up our bags at heathrow, the tube and trains had stopped and the only ways into town were a night bus that wouldn't get us back til 3.30/4 (and we had cases with us and didn't fancy luggin them about) or a taxi.

The taxi journey was unending - we were both tired, hungover (despite my best efforts while waiting in the airport and on the flight to retox myself) and desperate for our beds.  We dropped Luke off and headed for home, when I noticed that I'd need another tenner as the fair had gone over the £80 we had clubbed together for the cab.  I popped out quite near to home to use the bank machines but they were down for maintenance and I apologise and explained when I got back in the cab.  After grumbling and shooting me a look like I'd kidnapped his daughter, he grudgingly took me the extra half mile down the hill to my flat, while lecturing me on why he should call the police.  I collaspsed on the sofa and stayed there til 5am when I awoke and sent myself to bed.

This week has been beset by a world of hurt due to only alcohol passing my lips this weekend, along with tiredness and my sore ankle, which does not allow me to do anything but feel sorry for myself and watch TV and play playstation.  I've started gutting my room of all the crap that's congregated there since Richard III (I've been out/away too much since then) and need to carry on and tidy up my life.  Things have been sliding recently, but now I have the time (kind of, as work is sending me away) I should organise my flat and life again.  There's so much to get done (showreel, payments to acting bodies, voicetape, more short films, trips abroad with work, friends visiting) that if I don't do it now, I'll be swimming in shit til Xmas.  Look out for me in the Mirror towards the end of the week BTW.