"Why are you there?" and "Yes, I think you may well be out of your tiny queer mind?" I hear you saying as you nod to yourself. So this is my chat, this is why the city boy, who likes being in a city is in arse Narnia ...
- Senga and I could have kept the flat on and found another flatmate, but Senga raised a very good point. It had always been understood that if I got a job on a show in town I would be gone in a flash and Senga and the other flatmate would find a replacement and I would cover my rent till that happened or the lease was due for renewal. Senga was concerned that if we replaced KM and then a month down the line or so I got work in town and was off and then they got a second new flatmate and things didn't work out Senga could feel like her little home had been pulled from under her size 11 feet. (Given that Senga is also in theatre, tours and when you are away that often being at home at home is very important.) So keeping the flat on was ruled out
- We find another flat a two bed. That way if I was gone and being replaced it would be only one new person. To add a bit of background to the mirky swirlings that are Sengas thoughts, I was invited to interview for a show in town as all this was kicking off and had been down the month before for an interview for another show in town. There were also a few occasions before this.
I talked things over with The Dr, - He suggested that as his old cottage was lying empty I could live there for a bit: it would get me out of the cycle of renting and being tied to a lease etc; could try living on my own; was 3 hours to London on a direct train; could help out with the jobs needing done around the place; would mean it wasn't empty.
- I had one more option, denial!
The Accountant is my eldest brother, 19 year older, married with 2 kids, full details to follow. He is quite good at being straight laced and serious. I save calling The Accountant for advice for last - I tend to know exactly what my options are by then and talk them over, I don't phone him and ramble on without a clear idea of where I'm trying to get to. I then enquire about the other half and the kids and finally his woodworking. After all that I'm ready for a sweet sherry.
Thoughts were:
- If I'm going to crowbar all my stuff out the flat, into a van and back out I might as well move 300 mile as 3.
- When I'm on tour I'm not home: so arse Narnia isn't that bad.
- This particular arse Narnia on offer is only 50 min to the M6. Liverpool, Birmingham, Leeds, Manchester etc are all readily accessible.
- Could try living on my own.
- Shug was worried that if I wasn't working I would be all alone in a strange town (village it was worse than he realised) with no mates around and being a city boy how would i find it.
- Not living with Senga would suck! How else would Tallulah! get home safe after a sherry?
- Not being in the same town as Senga would be the death of Tallulah!
Moving day would have been fine if I wasn't having veiled panic attacks about my decision. Luckily The Dr was on hand for my medical needs and Senga was on hand for my spiritual needs She got the smelling salts from the sideboard and my spirit was restored.
Van packed The Dr and I headed south from Glasgow. A fully laden transit and a Ka with a handbag have roughly the same acceleration it seemed and we were level pegging till I lost him coming over Shap. We rendevoued for a pot of tea and a scone and then pressed on. Van unpacked in the pitch dark and there I was, along, in an old cold cottage.
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