Elf's Diary Blog Entry #12 - The Eldest Prodigal Daughter returns home
I missed yesterday's blog. Naughty me. The reason behind this is because I decided to up sticks and stay on the sofa of my longest and most detested best friend, Mick* (NAME CHANGED FOR PRIVACY REAONS :P ) . 7 years my senior, he's the step-brother I never had. We give eachother mutual love and contempt - my birthday card for his thirtieth was a giant moonpig card with the words I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE NOT DEAD YET emblazoned on it in pink.
It's a wonderfully stable friendship.
It stems back to when I was 8 and he was our next door neighbour and subsequent babysitter. He was a terrible babysitter. He used to tie me up and leave me in a cupboard whilst he played The Sims. In a nice way. I've forgiven him now. So much so we used to live together after I graduated from my BA. Well, he had the major bedroom, I camped next door in the tiny spare room with a fellow Bristol student named Alice. Neither of us could afford the rent of a single room in London, so instead we chose to share a bed for a year and put up with Mick's ridiculous sex habit. That was the least weird part of the deal, the most annoying aspect of the whole scenario was the fact Alice slept-talked and I slept-walked.
Anyway, context aside, last week was one of those weeks where you need the comforting tones of someone who has seen you at your lowest and most drunk. Thus, last night I turned up at Mick's and we fermented in the sofa and watched TAKEN. I had never seen TAKEN before. I realised my parents had tried to make me watch it once to teach me the dangers of interailing - not sure it's the most believable representation, but the least believable part of TAKEN is the idea two 17yrs would follow U2 around Europe. No parent would ever let their children do that.
I returned home to my parents today after Duck Flu rehearsals as I realised it was about time I ate a proper meal. Yesterday all I ate was a bowl of almonds. Not a good move. If you eat too many it can give you cyanide poisioning.
The following conversation happened in the car once my kooky mum picked me up at 4pm.
"Emilymilemily, you look like a Bee that has lost his stripes" (*this is my mother's eloquent and polite way of saying YOU LOOK TERRIBLE WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOU?)
"It's okay. I've had a busy week" I replied.
"Oh god, has something horrid happened?" she asked.
"Are you terminally ill?"
"Has someone been mean to you?"
"Has someone written something nasty about you on Faceslap?"
"Have you lost twitter followers"
"Have you got a bad review?"
"You are being VERY mean not telling me what is wrong Emilymilemy"
"BECAUSE NOTHING IS WRONG MUM!"
"Well why are you so cross? Have you lost a friend?"
"Has a boy been mean to you?"
"Because if they have I WILL sort them out for you, I'll tell your father. He may have a broken hand but he can write an email"
"I AM FINE MUM I JUST WANT TO GO HOME AND HAVE A BATH."
"Has a GIRL been mean to you?"
"Well fine then, but stop making such a big deal out of it."
[car starts - we drive home to the music of Echo & the Bunnymen in conten silence.]
It is now 9:50pm. I have just had a bath, so I smell of grapefruit. I have three giant German Shepherds at my feet and my dad and I are listening to PINK MILITARY. My mum is upstairs watching Star Trek. It's her heroin. My dad and I both have an unsaid ritua - we both sit late into the night drinking tea and working on our seperate laptops downstairs in the kitchen with the animals. He does economics, I do comedy. We both collectively decide the soundtrack. It's usually Echo & the Bunnymen.
One more full day until opening night of DUCK FLU at the Etcetera. To say I am nervous and excited is an understatement. January is turning out to be a bloody hectic and satisfying month.
Now, to bed.