In fact I've known for a long, long time that boredom is my NEMESIS.
It's why I haven't volunteered to go to Mars. The journey would just be far too long. I find waiting at traffic lights excruciating. Waiting for a kettle to come to the boil is torture. The time between the washing machine cycle finishing and the door clicking open is hell. I have to read an article or attempt push ups. (During the latter the dog usually tries to lick my face). I simply cannot do nothing for very long at all.
I prefer to work long, punishing, arduous hours with early starts, late finishes, in demanding mental and physical roles, dealing with disparate and desperate personalities and egos (I instantly realise all of this is describing touring theatre...)
It isn't badly paid this portering gig, certainly relative to most kinds of artistic work and the hours aren't endless. It's just there isn't a whole lot to do.
I can bring a laptop and watch hours of television or film - Borgen, Brooklyn 99 and Elementary are tonight's choices. I prefer watching stuff with subtitles as I'm viewing and reading simultaneously. Give me some ironing to do at the same time and I'll almost consider it productive. I attempt a little David Lynch but the early hours of the morning in a vaguely desolate apartment building with long empty corridors isn't entirely the environment for Lynch's work.
I could carry on with the exciting writing project I'm engaged in. Except that I haven't really slept in a couple of days now and only gibberish is coming out. I will at some point write an email to my beloved wife and comment on a few facebook posts about Greece, superfoods and/or rubber bands. However that won't distract me for long.
Therefore I will instead attempt a diary.
In real time here goes:
11pm - handover talk with regular porter who I'll call Jadam. He wants to get into acting. As promised I have brought in the 2008 edition of Contacts and point him in the direction of extra agencies, highlighting a few good ones. Jadam owns his own NYC police car - seriously, 3 grand on eBay, as well as a selection of police and army uniforms, Ray Knight should snap that shit up.
23:25 - I switch to 24 hour clock to log any subsequent diary entries.
23:27 - I ponder the 24 clock and wonder why it is such a difficult concept for my beloved American friends, who prefer to call it military time. As opposed to the time.
23:57 - Creme Egg. Might have peaked too soon.
00:36 - Log a sushi delivery for apartment 406. The delivery guys asks which floor. I guess four.
00:39 - I am proven correct in my apartment numbering deduction powers.
00:48 - I find subtitles on Borgen a bit blurry so I make a pot of coffee.
01:21 - I correctly direct a drunk passerby towards Gower St. This doesn't require a huge amount of mental energy as I know roughly where Gower St is. I've been there before.
01:57 - I breathe in deeply, knowing the most difficult time for this shift is between 2 and 4am, the dead time, when there's longer to go than there has been, when no one is on Facebook or would be awake to respond to text messages.
02:01 - I start playing a Matt Damon film.
02:03 - I turn off a Matt Damon film.
02:34 - The CCTV camera over one of the side gates flickers. Cue brilliant fantasy that the terrorists are about to storm the building and I have to be the 'guy on the inside...'
02.41 - It becomes apparent that the terrorists aren't coming. I log the flickering camera in the notes. This kills a few seconds.
03:37 - I walk around the lobby slowly hoping to kill some time. Very slowly.
03:41 - I realise how little time this has taken and moan out loud.
03:51 - I lie on the floor in 'semi-supine' then become completely paranoid that this is the moment the owners of the building will enter unannounced and catch me in this position thereby not only resulting in my immediate dismissal but also the removal of all further contracts that my temp agency has with this large property management company and the subsequent closure of said temp agency... possibly just paranoia. But I get up anyway.
04:21 - a chap delivers a cellophane-wrapped copy of the International New York Times. There seems be an interesting article about Greece but it is continued on page 7 and I can't get to page 7 through the cellophane.
04:35 - I wonder if I should be writing [TM] after the word cellophane.
04:41 - I query the spelling of the word cellophane.
04:52 - I clock there are still over two hours to go. I suppress a tear.
04:55 - I clock that it is raining a little bit and I am cycling home. I suppress a tear.
05:44 - More Borgen. I scan the opening credits and smile whenever there is a surname in the credits that is the same as the surname of a character. This leads me to wonder how many surnames there are in Denmark.
06:14 - I consider calling my Danish wife to ask her about the surname question. But she has to get up for the kids in about twenty minutes and I would like her to continue to be my wife so I don't.
06:44 - I am saying the time and how many minutes I have left out loud. A lot.
06:51 - Jadam's here. JADAM'S HERE! Thank you for listening. (I may need you again. Stay posted).