My first pub in Scotland
There is a picture of seven dogs pissing on a wall.
There is a hand written note on the bottom of the wine/liqueur menu that says
You are welcome to bring your dog
to The Regent but please consider
our other customers and keep your pet
-on a short lead
-off the furniture
They are playing Joni Mitchell or Joan Baez or Edie Brikell.
It is a well-lit place.
From Glasgow to Edinburgh one sees a lot of green.
There are farms, and antique looking homes that probably
have a fire going.
I saw a young man smoking a cigarette as I left the bus that brought me to Queens Station.
There are now a lot of sheep. They seem so small.
The region is filled with hills.
Seems like this land gets plenty of rain.
The train itself is smooth, and runs on time.
The conductor asked for tickets
But he didn’t click them, or punch them as they do in New York.
He only looked at them.
There are seats facing front,
Seats facing back.
Seats facing a table, that people share.
People are on their phones,
I don’t know why but I feel like everyone is putting on an accent.
Upon exiting the plane, from Heathrow to Glasgow, a man offered to put up the bar for me (I was a window seat he was in the middle), and I thought that was very nice.
Can I put it up for you?
I would love that.
Is that too much?
“I would LOVE that.”
He ordered a tea and a Kit Kat, which I thought was going to be an interesting sandwich, but in fact, turned out to be a Kit Kat chocolate bar.
Not many pools. I haven’t seen many pools. And no one is wearing flip flops.
I am very excited.
I rehearsed yesterday walking around the airport.
I have never performed in a play where I was COMPLETELY off-book before rehearsal, but with 6 or so rehearsals being the rehearsal process, I felt it was necessary.
Not that it matters, cause I’ll forget my lines when I’m standing up.
Heathrow reminds me of a mall.
With large windows.
There is a small din. Constant. Easy.
Being that it’s 5am where I am, and maybe got two hours of sleep last night, I am in touch with the metaphysical side of life.
I see a small woman eating a sandwich, but her metaphysical side is saying “Where are the napkins.”
Not very deep, I know.
That might be on me.
She needs a napkin, because mustard is on her face.
I’m in London!
I am staring out the window towards London!
This place is real.
I have read biographies of the greatest actors of our generation, and they all passed through this airport!
Just like me.
“Pick up rubbish?” Is what mid-driff just said, before removing the leftovers of a mostly eaten ham and cheese sandwich.
She might be a wizard;
Working at Pret a Manger.
I am finally here.
This is the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, but in London airport.
Do people know about it?
It is really Mardi Gras for theatre?
Are people singing at the Starbucks?
Everyone is mulling about.
And they look just like Americans, but more curious.
This could be an airport thing.
Or, maybe this is what they call “European” but when they mean it in a good way.
Feels like New York.
THis is my firs time in London.
A manager at Pret just asked the Polish woman to tuck in her shirt because she was showing mid-driff. In Mid-driff’s defense she is 6’3ft, and the broom and dustpan are too short for her lengthy form.
Do excuse the nature of this post. For me, it is 5am.
Harry Potter store.
Skinny young man with colorful socks.
Polish woman works at the Pret a Manger.
Coffee tastes the same.