Never rains but...

...it usually does, particularly if I've made the conscious choice not to take any form of water resistant clothing on a trip to the supermarket. As I did this morning.

Splish bloody splosh.

Plus professionally I'm in the unique position of having work lined up through to round about this time next year. On shows I like, and on at least one of which I'll get a creator's credit. Extraordinary, amazing, thank the smiling stars, who'd have dreamt a totie wee boy like me etc.

And so, of course, now the offers come in. Never rains but... Two in the last three days, one of which is an ohmygod at last, finally I get the chance to do it, this is what I've been waiting for, I knew it, all I had to do was keep churning it out, hoozah, the single of one's dreams...

...but I can't do it.

Because I'm already committed to one and half other shows in the same period.

Arse.

And this isn't the first time it's happened. It's the classic freelancer's dilemma - do you take the certain job that's on the table, one which offers financial security and the degree of satisfaction offered by a job well done... or do you turn that down and hold out, for an unknown and financially alarming period of time, in the hope that something more challenging and potentially more satisfying will happen along?

Of course you take the job on the table. The job on the table keeps the roof on the house (or helps buy the house, in my current situation), and the season being what it is (see aforementioned supermarket trip), roofs matter.

But for fuck's sake...

My current state of mind can be summed up by a long exhalation, a heavy combination of groan and sigh, and an acceptance that if fate arrives smiling at your door, when you invite her in she's guaranteed to tread dog shite on your carpet, break your favourite mug (not the daisy mug...) and embarrass you at parties by being sick in the fruit punch.*

Tom Bell died. I thought he was tremendous, very unusual for a British actor in his understated but compelling presence. I vividly remember him in the brilliant Out, even though I only saw a small part of it (too young) at the time. I think it was the first time I'd seen an actor convey a real sense of violence, not just the cartoon violence I'd seen on cowboy films or The Professionals, and I found it impressive and disturbing . He was equally brilliant as the father in the best adaptation of Sons and Lovers I've seen**, and was probably the best thing on the screen in umpteen other character roles throughout his career. I think only Gary Oldman has been able to bring a similar sense of menace and danger to his roles, but Tom Bell never needed to try as hard.


*not that anyone would notice, going by my distant and hazy memories of the 'fruit punches' that featured solely at student parties.

**and only now do I find it was adapted by Trevor Griffiths, which explains a lot.