Oh God. Who is the man in the mirror!!!!

Cuba De Libra – Norwich – The day the drinks were on Jimmy again!!

Reading holds no interest for me at all. All I can think about is our movie the Power and the cast and crew who are still beavering away, so much for being detached and subjective they have already got under my skin. I do as Paul Hills asks and quite my job at Revolution. To be honest it wasn’t too difficult as they had messed up my hours, truth be known I was going to quite anyway. Just not now, I was going to wait until after Christmas. It is going to be tough to leave Jimbo, a fellow chef and a top man to boot. We have had some adventures together… Hopefully we will again some day.

Chefs have a sacred brotherhood that leads to heavy drinking on a Tuesday or a Wednesday night (that is our weekend) we spot each other in bars and form friendships that overcome any rivalry between our respected venues. Maybe it is the shell shocked thousand yards stare after another 75 hour week. Maybe it is the blue plasters covering the bits of missing fingers that leads us to identify each other. Who knows but it is a fact. So if you see a group of 10 or 15 very drunk people on a Tuesday night with Blue finger tips join them, the worst that can happen is you will learn how to make a blue cheese soufflé. More likely you will have the best night of your life and end up eating cold ravioli from the tin on the way home.

With this in mind. I have a gripe…… THE CATERING!!!!!!

Napoleon is often misattributed the quotation “An Army marches on its stomach” In fact he subscribed to almost the opposite point of view. Napoleon had the idea that if you lost all the hangers on that accompanied an army, the cooks, the whores etc etc, They could move fast, kill the enemy and then take their food and whores. It makes sense if you think about it. I explain this for two reasons.

The first is that our illustrious leader Mr Hill’s is not only the director of this film but is also fanatical about the little man.

The second, clearly our catering department is expecting us to march fast and kill, kill, kill. If we don’t we are going to get thin very quickly.

Gripe over …… for now!

Back in the real world (Reading, Berkshire… The Real World.. God help me!) I find myself wandering into my beloved Pitcher and Piano. My friends talk about fantasy football leagues and Cosmic’s adventures in Sweden His Blog is available at www.atentisforlife.blogspot.com I guess it is great to have mates that keep your feet firmly fixed on the ground but sometimes I wish they were a little bit curious, I am bursting with adventure stories to tell. But no one to tell them too. I feel hurt, stupid really but it has got to me, I find myself thinking that they are glad I am away, pleased with the peace and quiet.. Maybe I need to think about this.. Maybe I need to get new friends.. Maybe II owe a big apology for something I can’t place my finger on …..YET!

I get word from Mark Forstater we are required back on set for Saturday as this is the big transference scene between Jess and Magda. It is the time when their relationship changes. In many ways this is the foundation of the story. Typical, Saturday Paul is booked to see one of his friends and I am doing my last shift at Revs. I can’t let Jimbo down or myself for that matter, we have real catering to do, none of the Napoleonic bollocks. Plus I want to say my good bye. In the end Paul Hamer makes the Sacrifice and heads on up.

My last shift at Revolution is a bit of a tear jerker for me and I suspect for Jimbo too, although he wouldn’t show it. Not ever. We drink Vodka Red Bull and finally a couple of hand full of Sambuca’s. I walk back to the Pitcher and Piano, Andy Saxby the General Manager fills me in. There is a dark energy within the group, some bad stuff has happened to some of their loved ones. Death has been in the air and I didn’t even notice. I am such a narcissistic prick that in my head I managed to make this about me, Careful with that mirror Mr Manson. Now I have to go away and I can’t even support my friends. The Guilt is horrendous.

Sunday arrives like a cheering high five …. In the face …. With a chair. The hangover is formidable. Baphomet is a cocktail maker, the high priestess of mixology. This is a near life experience. My journey to Norwich starts badly. From Wokingham to Reading the is a bus replacement service. I miss the first Bus by seconds and have to kill half an hour in the “Molly Millar’s” which puts me 45 minuets behind schedule at Reading as the bus takes half an hour to get there. At Reading there are problems too. The Paddington service is up the spout two trains are cancelled and the one after that is running twenty minutes late. JESUS CHRIST!!!! What is going on. I walk over to the Pitcher and Piano. Again..

I finally arrive at Paddington to discover the tube network is broken and have to zig zag my way to Liverpool Street Station. I sprint down to platform 13 just in time to watch the Norwich train depart. 59 minutes to wait for the next service. FANTASTIC. The Power of this satanic curse has reached me all the way from Epic Studio’s in Norwich.. That really is the power of the Power if you get my drift.

I finally get on the six thirty train and manage to get a double seat by the window, I spread out and open one of the four pack of Stella’s that are now in my position. I try to look as un inviting as I can, I want to be alone. The carriage starts to fill up quickly and I know I am doomed to have a companion on my final leg. But check this out for a little bit of Manson luck. A stunning Japanese girl walks on to the train. She looks up and down the train before heading over to me and says “May I sit here” I reply “Of course not” and start to move my bag to accommodate her. Then the bomb shell “Oh .. one thing I have a real problem with strangers on trains. Would you mind not talking with me. I just want to listen to my i-pod” I lie through my teeth “Thank God.. I hate strangers on trains too” She smells wonderful and her short skirt reveals her shredded stocking tops. The tiny ear pieces she sports deafen me with Death Metal for the next two hours. Baphomet be praised.

When I arrive at Norwich I discover that like Cambridge  it is over a mile walk to the town centre. I arrive at Norwich Revolution for about ten to nine only to discover the across the road Revolution de Cuba is just opening. I dash across and see some of the usual head office suspects, none of them know I have left yet. JOY!!! The Bohemian Mojito is to die for, especially when they are free. They wash away this heinous satanic curse in seconds. I am a fraudster among friends, I fess up and say that I have left the company. Jimmy says “’ave you had your last pay check yet?” “No” “Then ya still one of us lad… and never burn your bridges your always part of the family”

I cab it back to Derham road, I am a little pissed, Paul Hamer is waiting for me. Before I can even put my bags down he says “I’m really board .. can we go to the pub?” Well what are friends for. “Why not, mate. Why not?”

Ian Manson Film Maker.