Surreality, thy name is Corrin.

There are things that one expects to see upon returning to one's domicile. The people downstairs on the front step sharing a cigarette and talking. Cats expecting to be let in. The simple mundanities of suburban life.

What one does not generally expect to see is a man in a black leather jacket preparing to smash someone over the head with an epoxy pink flamingo in front of your white picket fence, while others stand nearby with lighting, camera and sound gear ready to film it.

The man with the flamingo is Brad. He was the director of the short film I was acting in recently (which is apparently looking quite good after editing). I got to stand on his wrist and kick him in the head multiple times, and I still feel kind of bad about it taking so many takes (it honestly wasn't deliberate).

(I hear the tyres of a Ford Anglia outside, scraping hard across gravel, and an "Ohh, why weren't you filming that?!")

The man with the camera is Corrin. In the film I was in, he had a large stick and a nappy on his head. Now he's directing another short film - hence the flamingo.


And I thought I'd had an interesting day at university, what with the ants, weapons malfunctions and so forth. Guess I was wrong :-)