The edge of a cliff

I’m feeling a bit light-headed. This is almost certainly because it’s 6pm and I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. It’s been a fairly unpleasant day. It’s my court case tomorrow, and I’ve been preparing a never-ending list of documents. I had a letter through the post this morning to tell me that the defendant in the case has opted, last minute, for representation by a solicitor, which is an interesting development. I’m rather pleased, as it happens, and look forward to meeting him across the table.

Less good news came from Alison today, who called to say that there just isn’t any money in the BBC Regions at the moment. So all the work I've done on BBC Regional pitches over the last few weeks counts for absolutely nothing. Even if the will were there, the money wouldn't be. I now need to do some serious thinking about my future. It is obviously untenable for me to be approaching 40 with absolutely no stability in my career, picking up little scraps of work wherever I can, so I need to look into alternatives. I refuse to be one of those failed creatives who turns to academia - that’s a sure fire way of ending your days feeling jaded and bitter - so I’m left with the idea of looking at areas that are not attached to the industry; perhaps the charity sector or even the police.

I long for something with stability; something which allows me to climb through the rungs of an organisation, whilst remaining safe within that organisation. In short, I want to be able to take the gas off, and not have to juggle hundreds of ideas at once. I had an email from Arnold Wesker earlier on - it was his 79th birthday yesterday - and I shared my thoughts about a possible change in career with him. He immediately sent an email back which started “that’s one of the most depressing letters I’ve ever received.” He went on to say that “creative artists don’t stop being creative, it’s not something they can do. Niagra can’t possibly stop cascading. Don’t even articulate such thoughts; articulated words can become self-fulfilling. Compose your Requiem as though it were a commission for the proms. You’ll feel different after you’ve completed it. Remember St Julian of Norwich; “all shall be well and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” Kind, wise words indeed. I’m sure he won’t mind me quoting him. I don't really know what to think. I think a great deal will rest on the outcome of tomorrow.

Saturday 25th May, 1661, and Pepys went to the Temple at noon, to do a bit of shopping for books at Playford’s, a renowned publisher of the day. He went to the theatre to watch The Silent Woman by Ben Jonson. It pleased him, apparently. On the way home he bought more books in St Paul’s Churchyard.