I am all packed for my journey to Bath tomorrow. Well to be truthful I have packed and repacked the work for my show no less than 3 times. My own bag, which will contain my essentials for a two-day journey as yet, remains untroubled. I have also, and inevitably I feel been struck down by a foul infection of the respiratory passages. I am sneezing so violently that I am more than a little concerned that much of my show may be spattered with snot. In an attempt to rid myself of this contagion I ventured out this morning to obtain orange juice and chicken soup. I am travelling everywhere on what my companion calls "The Phantom" a 'fixie' which, although common in the capital is a little anomalous in the provinces. Because the rear wheel is fixed it is necessary to keep pedalling at all costs otherwise the unfortunate rider can be flung out of the saddle by the still rotating pedals. This and the lack of brakes can make it a little like being aboard a runaway horse. I have found that riding it into a wall stops it. I have also been wrestling with another machine, an old cabinet gramophone and a rather eclectic selection of 78s. There is great pleasure to be found in the changing of needles and the winding of handles. One record has especially attracted my attention 'The Haunted Ballroom' seems ideal for some purpose or other. However, I have not quite settled on how to use it so I have made several recordings of it onto my iPhone.
My companion has gone to some sort of retreat in a farmhouse in Cambridgeshire. Last night I received a message from her complaining that it was haunted by the phantom of a butler. One of her greatest fears is ghosts but she cannot leave until Thursday as she is without transport.
That message arrived several hours ago I have heard nothing since
While waiting, I have been darning my threadbare pockets and writing invoices for my recent exploits though as yet I have been too shy to send them. I must get over my feelings of guilt in requesting money for my services.
It is three o'clock