Diary 7

Diary 7


It is Chinese New Year this week and so hopefully business
will pick up in Gary's brother's restaurant. Gary's brother, I should
say, is Chinese, like Gary.


It always seemed like a hairbrained scheme to me. Someone
with no restaurant experience opening up a 250 seater restaurant. But
as cheap meals as a soi-disant relation were on the cards I kept my
mouth shut.

Things haven't been helped by Gary's mum and dad camped out in the
brother's house. As Gary took our washing round there this morning due
to our brand new washing machine having a part missing the whole thing
is beginning to resemble a Chinese laundary.


Tension is high.


Last week one of the waiter's was caught smuggling a
family-sized bucket of king prawns out of the back door of the kitchen
and a flight was quickly arranged for him back to Hong Kong. Gary
arranged the flight, via Frankfurt, but then the waiter refused point
blank to set foot in Germany. Gary's dad got angry and blamed Gary of
all people.


Gary's dad temper is notorious and to top this he has
recently started weeing on the floor. This has upset Gary brother's
girlfriend and when Gary's mum sat in the front seat of the car instead
of her this was the last straw. She flounced off and it was Gary who
was roped in to work in the restaurant.


I fear that next it will be me and signs weren't good when
Gary returned home that evening with a Chinese menu.


"It's easier than it looks," he said. "People basically want
the same things."


He says that we have been invited to the restaurant on
Thursday, the actual day of Chinese New Year but I am reluctant to go
as I am not sure if it is all a ruse. My free time is my own and with
it I wish to write.


Actually, now that you haven't asked, the writing is not
going well. I'm doing my thousand words a day but it is just typing.
Wake up, tap tap tap. * 1000. I know that I am moving ever further away
from anything that will ever be published and everyday I look at
failure in the mirror.


Before Christmas I sent out a story I had written to a
number of friends. Not one bothered to reply and yet I have to listen
to their tales of infidelity and woes. I have decided to adopt a policy
of zero tolerance. This will be easy as I don't like anybody
anyway.


Well almost.


I was thinking about this yesterday at work. People were
chatting, in fact they were talking about ghosts and the paranormal and
I was wondering how much it would cost to have my brain cauterized.
People rarely say anything that is of any interest to me. The stories I
write are almost all based around dialogue yet my characters never
string more than a few words together at a time. This is how it should
be.


I am a bad person I know and believe me if I don't like
anybody I like them a good deal more than I like
myself.


Ha.


Next week I have a meeting with some film people. They are
interested in turning some of my stories, Vince and Stu, Lotus, Magic!
and The Curve into short films.


While walking to work this week I have been dreaming of
Oscar nominations, BAFTA awards, Tom Cruise agreeing to take a cut in
salary and star.


"If the script is good enough, I'll do it!"


I wonder if everyone dreams like this. Because so many
people just seem to be getting on with life to me. They don't want
anything more.


Except Gary's brother. I imagine he wants his dad to stop
weeing on the floor, his restaurant to be full and me to be in full
waiter's togs.


That's empathy for you.