Oof what a week. It’s been as though I’ve never really caught up with myself from the moment I woke up on Monday morning. Dominique has started, (Katie’s replacement), which has been a huge help, but I get the feeling that a whole bunch of people took last week off as part of their Christmas holidays because each time I thought I had a hold on everything, another surprise arrived via email.
There have been conference calls and pitches and meetings and lunches and some personal distress and a film screening and some project deadlines and just oof. I feel like a clockwork mouse that has been wound up with a key and is bombing about in all directions – mentally and physically. Morocco doesn’t feel like last week, it feels like another lifetime.
Today I am on location at a studio in Hackney, East London – I was going to say I am shooting, but again I am part of the story, not the stylist. I’m still getting used to the being in front of the camera thing. It’s quite odd. P Bad is coming along too: she spent the afternoon at Sniffles Dog Groomers with my sister, so she is quite possibly more camera ready than I am.
Next week is probably going to be more testing. On Monday I’m going to be packing three suitcases with three very different sets of clothes: for the winter cold of Canada, for a funeral in France, and for speaking at a conference in Germany.
I’m flying to Montreal on Tuesday for some meetings, and then taking the red eye home on Thursday night. I’ll arrive in London very early on Friday morning, head home to swap cases, then take a Eurostar to Paris. On Saturday afternoon I’ll be back on the Eurostar to London.
After a whistlestop at home to swap cases again I’m off to Heathrow to catch the last flight out to Munich, where I will be, thank goodness, staying put until Wednesday. Thank goodness I live in NW1, two stops from the Eurostar terminal and en route to the airport, otherwise I’d be lugging the same case across four countries.
I feel knackered just reading that schedule.
Photo: A corner of my office