"What you are talkin' about is brutal desire, just desire. That rattletrap car that gets towed..."
Sat, met up with White Darkness friends in Covent Garden, which was so nice. It all came back so clearly, those 3 weeks of creating a really atmospheric play. And everyone seems to be having great fun doing what they're doing. A-level results came out on Thursday and my friend Nicole got all As but it's Jess (yes the ex) I'm scared for as she needed an A in her History (she retook it) in order to get into Bristol. But no word on her Facebook and I really want her to get in, she's already been rejected by Oxford which was a huge deal for her in particular. I can't bear the thought of her being disappointed again.
Then went to see Streetcar Named Desire matinee (really very good, but the southern accent does grate after a while, loads of Blanche's lines needed cutting but Rachel Weisz and Ruth Wilson were very good) and All's Well That Ends Well in the evening, which I loved. The fairytale gone wrong. I liked the fact they made it comic but Alex wishes they'd play it straight; but he does have very specific ideals for his Shakespeares. Anyway, we both had a good day...
Up till 11.30 when, after an hour's journey out into London suburbs...discover his car's been towed. And he can't get it back till Monday. Fuck. Eventually, cutting v long story short, we stay at a Travellodge, me walking down the North Circular in bare feet cause my heels were killing me. So black feet. We made it back following morning to the local station where his Mum rescued us and we went home to watch the Grand Prix and cricket (ENGLAND HAS THE ASHES ONCE MORE...I never cared about that till Alex) Fell asleep on him before watching Brideshead Revisited and crawling up to bed. I really wanted to make him feel better after such an appalling turn of events (you know, they charged fucking £455 overall for his car and there's all the cost of extra train tickets and the Travellodge) and, my God, best sex ever. Sort of made up for some of it.
He got up afterwards, and opened a drawer and pulled out a script- realised it was the one he'd written and offered to let me read. I know what a personal thing that is so I was so touched. It's also very good. I do love him so much. Feel like my heart's going to burst with it some days.
Have been writing my own play for past couple of weeks, which is very satisfying but it's horribly autobiographical and I don't know if I'd ever be brave enough to show it to him. It's called "Because Youth is Sweet" and is essentially about teenagers and what shits they are. Urgh, don't know if I'd go and see my own play, lol.
Also discovered, ahahaaha, my apartment was renumbered by the Post Office, without informing us. We discovered this the same day 1000 business cards with the old number on arrived, so I shall be spending my afternoon tippexing them. Also means that technically all our legal documents are for somebody else's flat. Apartment 5 will receive my mail, I presume too, since I was unit 5 but the Post Office decided I was Apartment 3. Fuck. However. Nothing in the world matters cause PARIS IN 4 DAYS!!!