Computerless

I'm typing this on a rather elderly computer in the room that we call the "dining-room". Occasionally we even dine in it, but more usually it's used as an office for the roleplay work that I do.

In the agency's office, in another room in the house, are two spanking new computers. On Wednesday, late afternoon, they both must have got wind of the fact that Stephen was in Helsinki and also that he had been transformed from Geek King to Reindeerman in under two weeks.

One of the computers informed me that it would be closing itself down in fifty seconds, and did, as I stared at it helplessly: and then the other one did too. They are refusing to be coaxed back to life until the Stephen Presence re-enters the house. It's a very odd fault and I am convinced it's simply that they know he's not here.

Please don't tell this computer - the one I'm typing on now - that Stephen is currently on a ship travelling from Helsinki to Stockholm. I am lying to this computer. I keep calling "Stephen!" and pretending to talk to him in the hope that it will think he's just in another room.

Now I could try to get at the agency's inbox on this one - - but it's old and dodgy and I know jolly well that if I try to log off it will never log back on again. It's usually logged on to my personal account and I just daren't risk having no computer at all!

So the agency's inbox is currently a mystery to me. One of our actors has managed to get at some of the casting breakdowns (details of the actors that plays/films/television are seeking) from home (thanks Keir) but for once in my life, I can't see any of it.

It has made me realise how much my life is governed by trying to deal with all the various items that come into the inbox. Trying to clear the inbox, whilst dealing with everything rather than just filing it away, is what I do for a large part of every day.

Without it things are very strange. I have done a few jobs that I can do without the computer - - but then I was at a loss.

It's a strangely liberating feeling. Part of me is really worried about what I will find when Reindeerman returns, changes back into Geek King and mends the computers - - - and part of me is going "Wheeeeee!!! Freedom!!!" And then I feel really guilty for thinking that!

Still, I'm going to see our actor Jem Dobbs in Raspberry, a play about Ian Dury, tomorrow evening in Manchester, so that's a kind of work, as it's part of my job, though I'm sure I'll enjoy it.

And I find myself looking at all the housework that needs doing, and that I don't usually have time to do.

I'm not sure whether it's the school I went to, which gave us masses of homework every night, that gave me so much guilt if I'm not working: or whether I was just like that anyway. I think it's probably the latter.

I'm going to try to enjoy the freedom until the computers are up and running again, and I'm going to try not to worry about it. There. That sounds like a plan.