High Noon

Lots of interesting conflicts:

Saturday was the duel with Sideshow Bob’s sister. All calm since then, eerily so. We’re studiously avoiding one another. Ah well.

Monday was taut, though. The agitation of the above compressed in all sorts of places, and by late afternoon I was really quite jangled when I came across a pretty bad road crash next to Boddin Strasse U-Bahnhof. We all wondered at first if this VW 4×4 that was rammed side on at a shitty casino, whether it was one of those ramming attacks, but I think the driver tried a macho attempt to take the lights and the corner at too great speed and fucked it up.

A few minutes later I got into a stand-off with a guy whose engine was burning out, I filmed this massive acrid cloud of exhaust and he wasn’t happy, demanding I delete it, but as he was aggressive I found myself first having to stand my ground and not delete it, arguing in bad German that I didn’t have to. Eventually he asked only I don’t show the number plate, and I said fine, and I wouldn’t put it on the net. In the end I realised bloke’s car has blown up and some tyke tourist comes filming it for which he might get an emissions’ fine as well, does he need the aggro? So I deleted it and left a note on on the car to say sorry.

Tuesday, I was strolling down Boddin Strasse and heard this chap on his phone, very distinctive voice, like Michael York, and he was talking English. Off he went and I wondered whether … as an actor I thought ‘this guy has a good voice, I’d like to hear it on the radio, on an ad, or something, but should I say something?’ … then I ran 30 yards to catch him and told him, and he was bemused, but a nice lad and found out he’s from Catford and is a lighting technician and has done extra work, so … I don’t know, could be a total nothing but then if you think something and say something, could it change a life, for the better, in ways unforeseen? Why not?

Then this morning, at the fruit and veg stall, this big lad came up, bit leary in a way, and put a paw of bananas in his bag and looked like he was walking off, so I said ‘hey, what you doing?’ and he looked confused, then said ‘I’m getting other stuff’. Which he did. At the counter I laughed and said sorry for accusing you of shoplifting, and he smiled and said ‘nah no problem’.

Where am I going with all this? Not sure, but I feel so much bolder. I’m not trying to create conflict I think, but … things happen. Anyway: Day 22 OYNB, feeling great. Day 8, no coffee (but on Club Mate) but so what? Feeling great. Getting regular swim / FIIT / skipping. Not as regular as I’d like or should be on the yoga … and I’ve had a breakthrough on the singing but I’m not capitalising on it like I should. I also know I need to work on nutrition because I’m too easily loading up on kebabs. Actually breakfast and lunch are great, but after that it’s total shit. So if I can combine a regimen adding some light weight lifting exercises and a low-fat diet that won’t leave me knocked out …

A few weeks left to finish the novel. Well – I’m not leaving til it’s done, but it’ll be done.

The Big Game is going on and I’m winning it.

That’s what matters right now.

*Note also: My pa emailed me the other day to ask what was going on in my world, what with a fair bit of flux in the last couple of years, and radical decisions, a lot of hither and thither in all. ‘not that I’d want to interfere on any level!’, quothe he. Which naturally to me I think ‘well you are,’ and get irked about it, and the invite to go see him and R seems more like a summons, and one thinks, seriously, I’m old enough to make my own decisions and create / destroy things in my own time. And we had a chat on the phone anyway and as I’d suspected there were a few bits he didn’t get, because his hearing’s gone, and you know because there are these long pauses sometimes and then the comment, ‘I didn’t quite get that, my hearing’s very bad you know / my hearing aid’s not in / I’m quite deaf these days.’ All adds to the frustration of the exercise, so to speak.

Then it struck me the other day, he’s in his mid-70s, and for his ailments he’s still so strong in mind that he and R are running this College of Real Farming, and hosting the annual conference, and gaining interest from China with whom he was talking to academics later the day we spoke. And for all that he has time to wonder how his son is doing. An ageing man nonetheless, whose mind is very much there, but his physical abilities are fading. I mean, these days being elderly is becoming more and more an exercise in becoming a cyborg, but he’s elderly. Technically, disabled.

And yet childish pride makes me begrudge the fact that he cares. *Hmmph!* Think I better book a flight to Oxford …



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