I completely enjoyed the work driving for the film company, they were a good bunch of people, happy to stop for a chat when they weren’t working, but focussed (!) when they were on work time. They didn’t seem to look down on me at all as their driver. I quickly moved from straight driver to more than that anyway. I had to lug their kit around the locations, and some of it was far heavier than you’d be allowed to lift in a normal job.
The camera was called Red and that weighed quite a lot, but its tripod, which I think they called a spider, was stupidly heavy.
And then I did little jobs all the time. If they needed something from the shops – and often they might be a prop like a wheel barrow – then I’d have to look it up online, then drive off to go and get it.
Admittedly I was bored stupid at times, but in general it was good fun and I said to the director fellow that I’d be delighted to do it again – after all look at the funky beast I had to drive:
There seems like there is a lot of work there, but the difficult thing for most people is that they can’t just drop their tools and take up the offer. I don’t think that would bother me much as most of the time I’m waiting around hoping for a job from Jon, my Dad, and now The Co-op, so bring it on! Maybe I’ll get to drive all sorts.
Last year the glory, fun, and stupidity of St Patrick’s Day rather passed us by. We were all sat boozing in The Font on Upper Chorlton Road and wondering why so many idiots were wearing great tall green hats and it was only the next day that we realised we’d missed the most important event of the drinking man’s calendar. Not that we really cared, we had a great time anyway.
This year we’ll be a whole lot more sorted. We’re going to catch the action across as many nights as we can. Having got my act together and had a look I can now see that Manchester goes for it big time with a proper Irish Festival that has already started back on the 7th and goes right through to the 17th – that’s a lot of Guinness in demand!
I’m going to buy a one week tram pass so that I can come and go as I please. I just need to be more careful over falling asleep that I have been in the past, it used to finish at St Werberg’s Road, but now it carries on all the way to East Didsbury. Being woken up there by the guard would be rubbish, you’d have to wait for a bus I guess.
While I think about it – I have an interview with the Coop for the driving job. I don’t know why I have to be interviewed to see if I can drive or not, but anyway, that’s tomorrow morning so I’ve read through my CV to make sure I know what I have written down, and I’ve rehearsed the way I’ll tell the story of driving for Jon and how I’ll make that sound a bit more legitimate.
I’m actually hoping I get it now.
Well, the short version of the story is that she didn’t show up.
It would be easiest to end the story there.
At least I wasn’t dumped, or couldn’t even get to say hello.
At least I wasn’t laughed at by the girl I’d set my heart on getting chatting to, even if I didn’t get off with her.
And I suppose I ought to be grateful for the fact that I didn’t get completely legless and offend my parents again.
Bit that’s no consolation when you’re seriously pissed off, or gutted and aching and all sorts of other shit emotions.
That’s why tonight it’s a Sunday in with my new friend Faustino.
I went down to the Co-op and bought two bottles of gorgeous Faustino VII for just £7 a bottle, I know there was wine there for a whole lot less, but you’d pay more than that for a large glass in a bar.
So tonight I will be mostly sitting here feeling the angst and listening to the most melancholy tunes to sink me as deep into self pity as my mental elastic will allow me to stretch.
Look, I know nothing went wrong. But I am deeply upset. I know my stupid oh so smug married for a century parents would laugh at me, but they can do one. The very fact that they have been together forever just proves that they have no idea how shit I feel right now.
Tomorrow will be, as they say, another day, and tomorrow, as I say, will be another hungover day!
Oh yes, that’s me.
We did a fantastic job at Jon’s house with the wardrobes, and fortunately it was Sandra, his wife, who was at home when we finished. Not only did we crack a few beers with her, she also slipped us £20 for the pub. Jon will pay us, and he’s always fair, but there’s never a nice little tip.
Chatting with Sandra, she asked if I’d be interested in a full time job at The Co-operative as she’d heard they were look for drivers. It was driving the small trucks, don’t know what they’re called, but you don’t need a HGV license to drive them. That side was tempting, but as I said last week I am settling into my random life of a bit of work here, a bit of work there.
Still, while I didn’t go for it as a full time job, having told her my thinking I have completed an application and suggested that I’d be a good person to call on when they’re short staffed. Sandra thought that would actually be more attractive to the business than taking on people full time.
If I can pull that off I’ll be delighted as I’ll get experience of driving bigger stuff and then maybe put myself up for agency work, you know, where you are self employed, but get called up at short notice quite often to do a job.
I’m even getting to be better with money and I stash as much as I can from each job. What I have never done is kept accounts, so I’ve started a spread sheet of everything I earn and everything I spend that could reasonable be considered to be connected to getting work. Strewth, I’m beginning to feel awfully grown up.
My folks don’t drink much.
But blimey they know how to get down to business when they do have a snifter or two.
Last night I got in from town at seven, and they were just mixing a cocktail, as mother put it.
Well, I don’t mind if I do then I said.
And so mum made me her blend of an Old Fashioned.
Two later and we were all plastered, laughing, telling silly stories, and it wasn’t too bad. OK. I admit. I have a top night with them.
Mum made some great food – kinda like a Lebanese meze. Hummus, fried haloumi, funny beans in a garlic and tahini sauce, and then grilled lamb kebabs. Gorgeous food, and a bottle of great Lebanese wine – Chateau Mussar I think it’s called, Dad bangs on about it loads.
Best night in with the folks in ages.
Dad seems keen on using me more to do stuff with his business too so it seems like I’m a bit closer to having a job. There’s no news on them looking at another house to push me out to though.
I can’t complain, getting looked after at home, and with the potential of an income is more important for the time being.