Home Sweet Moan

I must say it was lovely to get back into London. Sitting in my seat on the train as we pulled into Kings Cross, my face was glued to the window, eyes wide, huge smile on my face. I could see people on the platform step back in alarm as I passed them by. When the train finally stopped moving, I detached my face from the window with a sucking sound, leaving a mouth-shaped outline in drool on the glass. Yes, I was happy to be back.

It is now a couple of days later and well, I find myself if not actually missing Edinburgh, at least parts of it. For a start I had a job when I was there! Now it’s back to auditions, job searching and trying to earn a living when not acting. I’ve been in this situation before (which actor hasn’t?) but the sudden change from the party-with-a-paycheque that is Edinburgh to daytime television in your pajamas in London is a bit of a pill to swallow.

There’s an aspect of festival life that suspends your ordinary reality for a while. Whilst that is not altogether a good thing (missing loved ones and such) there are some positive angles to it. I had forgotten, for example about the restaurant below our flat, thanks to which I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I got back, due to the noise created by its kitchen. I had forgotten how loud it is and had got used to the silence of my Edinburgh bedroom.

I’m not saying that I want to go back and live in Edinburgh, or that I’m not happy to be home. Far from it. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of being in your own living room, or cooking in your own kitchen (it’s clean! it’s cleeeeaaaan!!!!), or coming home to your spouse, but for one month in my year, I was given the excuse and opportunity to do nothing but let loose, socialise, go to the theatre and simply do whatever I wanted to do. There weren’t the normal, everyday problems to deal with.

But it’s no use thinking like this. It doesn’t help and I don’t want to end my final blog entry on a sour note. There are two things here in London that Edinburgh couldn’t provide which make the two incomparable. The first is being back home with the Mrs. A month away doesn’t sound like much, but it is. The second and less obvious beauty of being home, is watching daytime reruns of Frasier. Our Edinburgh apartment didn’t have a telly and we didn’t have the time to watch one anyway. My London home has a very nice telly and I’ve got lots of time. It’s good to be back!