We went to the spa for an hour to relax in a hot tub today. A Valentine’s gift from my beloved. Eschewing the promised delights of the traditional English patio–okay, “British Isles Garden”–we opted instead for the Aleutian Cabin, which had a fireplace. And a roof. As it turned out, we required neither. Hot tub–it’s not just a clever name. Ho, no.

Twice I’ve been in a hot tub before. First time was in Whistler where Lucy and I went skiing many years ago. Then there was snow on the ground and the hot water soothed out the kinks after a morning on the slopes. There was beer and whisky involved.

Second time was in California, staying at Kate’s. The same week I met Joseph in fact. This time was in a spa complex and beer is probited by some State code. Not to worry. There’s Canadian beer in the fridge here. There was more but now… Well, now it’s in me, of course.

Laura bought me a set of Black Adder DVD’s–no doubt as I keep saying how this is the best BBC TV series ever made and quoting it all the time. Very pleasing. And my sister sent a wedding gift which arrived this morning. A beautifully carved oak writing case. Very lovely. I must send her a thank you.

Other stuff:

Next Cinema Slam is well in hand. I have nearly all the films. Still waiting to hear if I’ve got a commission for a second documentary project. This one would be educational too and looks like great fun. No sign of the lights today, or the Sennheiser mic I bought off ebay. We noticed that the boards are down off the local Dairy Queen now, though, and they’re open for business. Must be summer. Kind of.

Right, we’re off to the Common Grill over in Chelsea now (yes, they’ve got a Chelsea here which, no, is not like the one in London). See ya! I’ll try to write up the experience of Michigan Women’s Basketball in the next day or two. For now, I’ll just note that it’s a very different game from watching men’s basketball. Like it’s played in a different gear or something.

Gosh, it’s exciting, isn’t it? You come here each day, never knowing if there’ll be something new to read. Maybe even just an extra comment (I like all the comments, by the way). To tell the truth, it’s just been extremely hectic here. Never a dull moment…

Last week, as you may recall, I got my work permit, which means I can now work. Almost immediately I found myself making a short documentary for the local theater about one of their main benefactors and fundraisers. I also ordered a lighting kit which should mean my producer buddy John and I are now geared up for shooting anything and everything, since he’s bought a camera.

Laura and I also shopped for domestic appliances. This may not sound very exciting, but when I tell you we bought a fridge freezer that’s bigger than my old flat, I bet you’ll take notice. Okay, so it’s not really that big. But it is pretty humungous and it has one of those ice maker things on the door that you just push the cup under. Eight hundred dollars well spent, I’m thinking.

The biggest news, of course, is that we’re moving. We did the house search, decision and offer thing all in the space of about four days. That was three weeks ago and we’re due to take possession next Thursday or Friday.

Houses in the States come in square feet rather than number of bedrooms and there’s various styles they kind of fall into, like Ranch, Colonial or Cape Cod. Ours is an 1800 square-foot Cape Cod which doesn’t include the basement, which is huge. There’s an attached double garage with an electric door and the master bedroom has an en suite bathroom with a spa tub. It’s awesome!

And talking of awesome, I should mention that it’s across the road from the Wolverine Party Store, which means there’s somewhere handy to buy beers and the occasional pint of milk or loaf of bread. It’s also literally around the corner–walking distance–from the fleapit cinema, which I think is pretty cool too.

Our new lot hasn’t had any landscaping done to it at all. The house was built in Pennsylvania, shipped to Michigan on trucks and stuck together here. Yesterday we met up with a contractor to have extra windows put in what will be our office plus an extra door into the garage. This morning we met the first of two landscape architects we’re talking to about putting up fencing, building a deck, adding paths and maybe some plants–as long as they’re ultra-low maintenance (remember Richard Stagg Close!).

Today has actually been insane. After the landscape meeting, I went off to shoot an extra interview for this twenty minute documentary thing. John came out and helped. We got the interview done but Russ, the theater manager, had another person booked to talk to us at 3pm. John went home and I showed Russ the edit so far. He seemed pretty blown away, which is fantastic, and loaned me his Jeep to drive home for lunch.

So, I’ve never driven a Jeep before but people here don’t seem to worry about just getting in cars and driving them, so I got in and drove it and tried not to worry. Made it home without hitting anything and did a bit more editing. A copy of the St Albans Observer turned up, courtesy of Pete, who was kind enough to put it in the post. The paper featured a feature all about yours truly. Most of it was complete bullshit and they’d called me Mr Mr Jefferies thanks to some pretty incompetent editing. I read two or three paragraphs and went back to editing.

Oh, and just to be clear, Pete is *not* responsible for content in the paper. I’m still grateful to him for getting me a copy. Not everyone who works on the St Albans Observer is a muppet. Just the person doing the editing. Unfortunately, the end product is all anyone sees and if it’s unreadable, then it’s unreadable. (Much like some of these blogs…)

Back to the theater and the interviewee turned up with two kids who were also going to appear. Except they had nothing to say and kept fidgetting. I went for close ups. Big close ups. Without the kids. Much better. All lit with daylight, like this morning, as my lights aren’t due until Friday. Or maybe even next Tuesday. Who knows.

Back home again, transferred the rushes and made a toasted banana sandwich which I may try to convince Laura is a traditional British staple. Except that she’ll read this and, of course, the jig will be up. Never mind.

The rushes. Ah, yes. The rushes. This morning’s rushes are great. This afternoon’s have, what’s the technical term? Bugger all sound. The sound lead must have fallen out. I couldn’t hear while I was recording since the headphone socket and sound plug are too close together for both to be connected at the same time. About thirty seconds into the interview, it’s all static. Bugger. Bugger bugger bugger.

I called Russ and left a mesage. Then we went out as I’d blagged free tickets (thanks to the same theater) for Rufus Wainwright tonight. Rufus is a skinny gay dude with slept on hair and a fantastic voice. His influences are operatic and French. Normally I wouldn’t mention the fact that he’s gay but he sings quite a few songs about trying to convert straight guys, so it’s pertinant if only slightly irrelevant.

Rufus drew in an audience that was an eclectic mix of young female college students hoping to convert him, gay couples of various ages hungry for a pretty icon and a collection of folks of all ages and orientations who just enjoy his work. The theater was packed out. I don’t know if they sold out, but it must have been pretty close. The man has, as I say, an amazing voice and a terrific range. The sound system didn’t really do him justice and, when he lifted his mouth to sing over the mic, it seemed like he didn’t need it at all.

Now, I’m not saying I’ll be rushing out buying his albums and all, but if you get a chance, you should go and hear him.

Back home now, another busy day ahead tomorrow. Laura has a meeting with the Chamber of Commerce for breakfast at 7am. We’re meeting another landscape architect at ten. There’s a shedload of editing to be done before Thursday night, including a lot of animation with stills photos and programs, which means I have to use After Effects. Which means I have to learn to use it. Fast. There may even be an interview to reshoot.

There. I bet just reading this has worn you out. If not and you’re still feeling bouncy and full of energy, please come round to help us cut the grass. We’ll be serving drinkies on the deck just as soon as we have one. Just as soon as the snow clears.

Blah, ran a short film evening at the local theatre last Tuesday… Blah, it was really successful, blah, more people came than went to the main feature. We had sixty, they had just over forty for both screenings… blah blah blah… It was awesome.

So, next day, the theater calls me and asks if I’d like to make a short film for them, a paying gig, to honor someone who’s receiving an honor… I do have my own equipment don’t I? Sure… I call around and find some one who does…

Thursday I meet with the theater boss and plan some of the film. Did I mention the stupid b’s at the shipping company lost all my paintings? Well, they did. It’s an insurance claim now. I decide to spend the money on lighting kit.

Friday, I go to a big facility company in Farmington Hills and choose lights. I buy some gels and say I’ll place an order. Can I try some things out? Sure. I borrow lights for free.

The weekend is all phone calls. By Monday, I have a camera assistant with his own topoftherange camcorder. The Canon XL1s no less. We go filming.

Tuesday, there’s no filming. Laura and I go sit in the INS/BCIS office of manyacronyms and wait. We wait and wait. We join a line to get a number which tells us how to wait. We wait some more. Eventually, we are allowed to file our papers with the official guy. Except we aren’t. He gives a load of them back and asks for the originals of our birth certificates and marriage certificate and other crap. Other crap which they already actually have because if they didn’t we wouldn’t be there, would we? So we have to come home. But he says I can have a work permit the next day.

We call the lawyer who we are paying big bucks to tell us how to file all this stuff and she gets unamused and tells us to go back. The official guy gets unamused too and tells us she’s got it wrong. Come back next day. We don’t need half the forms she’s given us and we need this this and this.

So today we go back. And we wait. But he sees us. And he fills out the stuff. And instead of it being 45 to 60 days to get an appointment for change of resident status–like the genius well-paid lawyer said–it’s more than 100 days. But I can have a work permit. So we wait. And we wait. We wait nearly three freaking hours.

Laura speaks to the counter clerk who says she’ll tell the woman. But she doesn’t. I speak to the other counter clerk, who says oh dear she’ll tell the woman. But she doesn’t because she doesn’t even take my name. Eventually I see the woman who has been dealing with work permits. Oh, and she’s got my paperwork. But not an appointment letter so she didn’t know I was there. She takes my photo and gives me a card and we go.

There’s some more filming and later there’s some vodka and later still, whisky. The theater owner from above says I can use his cabin for filming and I meet half the theatrical people of Ann Arbor. It’s a long day. It’s a fast week. Lots is done. I didn’t mention landscape architects or radon tests or selling my mother’s house either did I? But maybe I will sometime.

Time. It clutches like a whore. Falls wanking to the floor. His script is you and me. Boy.

Time, it moves so fast. And yet, it doesn’t really move at all does it? My nails need cutting and I’ve met nearly all the major players in Ann Arbor’s performing arts community. I’ve even been in a house that has a study bigger than my old flat in St Albans. Which is nice. And I can work! And I will soon have some nice lights. And [you know, stuff]. Oh, and this year, I’m a BlueJays fan and we have tickets. Yay!

Not so long ago, in a country not so far away, one Lionel Birnie did write to me after the screening evening for The Car. This was back in October and Lionel had stayed on for more beers after we left the bar. I’d phoned Lionel after we left to see if he could see Laura’s lost bag anywhere there. We never heard from him again until an email arrived some time after…

LIONEL: Sadly I didn’t make it back to Soho House to see about Laura’s bag as I got arrested for being drunk and disorderly and spent a few hours at Holborn nick (!)

A bitter-sweet irony, being accosted by a jobsworth copper after watching my film about… a jobsworth copper!

ME: Of course, the question we really want answered is what exactly were you doing when the police picked you up?

LIONEL: Having walked Sandy to the tube station I’d got split up from Simon and Sue, who I’d planned to travel to Euston with.

I had no credit on my pay-as-you-go mobile so I went into a pay phone near Tottenham Court Road tube and stuck 50p in the slot to try to ring Simon. But the 50p got stuck in the slot and wouldn’t budge. It wouldn’t go in, so I could make a call, nor come out.

The next phone box I tried the receiver was smashed, so I crossed the road. The third I tried had no receiver at all. The fourth stole another 50p, as it lodged there, infuriatingly.

By now I realised that it’s the scam by scumbags that they tamper with the slot so your money gets stuck, then they come along with a piece of wire and pull all the cash out.

The final phone I tried stole another 50p – making 1.50 in total – and I lost my rag, hurled the receiver against the window and kicked the phone.

Then a busy little copper and his WPC sidekick nabbed me. From there I talked myself into arrest – I swore, refused to give my name, called him ‘Sonny Jim’ and her ‘My love’, which didn’t help.

The copper said if that phone is broken I’m going to arrest you for being drunk and disorderly. I said: ‘Of course it’s fucking broken. It stole my money you twat.’

I tried to argue that he couldn’t nick me for being D&D on the basis of a broken phone – it was either vandalism or D&D not some pathetic hybrid of the two.

When I called him the ‘smallest-minded man in the whole history of Britain’ he read me my rights. After the last line ‘… do you understand?’ I replied ‘Er, I’m not sure, can you run it by me again?’

In the van, on the way to Holborn cop shop, I tapped on the bars and said: ‘I think I recognise you? Did you two do the legs on the opening credits of The Bill? Yes, I thought it was you.’

I stopped being sarky at the station where the desk sergeant made it pretty clear that he thought the entire thing was a waste of time.

I was locked up for a couple of hours and let go as soon as it was impossible for me to get the last train. All I got was a formal warning and a ‘don’t do it again’ talk.

Started looking at local properties on the web last Thursday. Signed up with a buyer’s agent on Friday and we spent two afternoons visiting houses in Ann Arbor that match our price range–everything from the standard to the distinctly odd. Revisted one of the ones we liked best for a second look yesterday and made an offer on it today. It’s so fast, it’s surreal.

Hey, we can get a mortgage! So we’re going to get a house. In Ann Arbor. That’s fantastic. That’s one big step forward, I’m thinking. Also extremely pleasing is the fact that I now have enough cool movies for a ninety-minute Cinema Slam–the short film program I’m running at the Michigan Theatre on February 3rd.

American Short Film, the 15 minute comedy I’ve been working on, needs to be finished by Monday to be included. I’ve got one more sound tape to transfer, sound rushes to sync up, audio to mix, titles to prepare and a little grading to do, but it’s going to get done. Oh, yes–it will be done. And that’s three steps forward.

Step four was the meeting with Jim, our new accountant today. I can see the whole Ascalon Films thing working having spoken to him. It was all very positive.

Now, of course, you’re all reading this wondering if there could possibly perhaps be a fly in the ointment, a spanner in the works, or even perchance a step back. Four steps forward and one step back? Well, yes. Yes there is. The shipping company have emailed me. They can’t find my paintings. Four pieces of art plus one large framed photograph which they were supposed to crate up and ship from St Albans, UK, to Ann Arbor, US. They’ve lost them.

Yes, the only irreplaceable objects in the whole consignment from England and the incompetent morons at Dolphin Movers aka Aero Frieght have lost them. I should have guessed they were a bunch of complete tools when the guy turned up to collect them without the blankets they had promised they were going to wrap them on the way to be crated. I highly recommend NOT using these people for your shipping needs.

Now I have to file an insurance claim but England is closed after 5pm because everyone only works an eight hour day there, including an hour for lunch (paid), so it will have to wait. Bastards. I’m not amused. I expect you can tell.

Saturday was a fantastic day. Perfect in every way. Laura and I are now husband and wife. Laura’s sister sang At Last and sang it beautifully. My sister read Rilke and the words came alive. Our friends and relatives were there, many having travelled thousands of miles to be with us. We drove a Pontiac Grand Prix for the weekend and we stayed in Room 101 at the Bell Tower Hotel. What can I say? I am very very happy.

Here’s the Rilke reading:

The point of marriage is not to create a quick commonality by tearing down all boundaries; on the contrary, a good marriage is one in which each partner appoints the other to be the guardian of their solitude, and thus they show each other the greatest possible trust. A merging of two people is an impossibility, and where it seems to exist, it is a hemming-in, a mutual consent that robs one party or both parties of their fullest freedom and development. But once the realization is accepted that even between the closest people infinite distances exist, a marvelous living side-by-side can grow up for them, if they succeed in loving the expanse between them, which gives them the possibility of always seeing each other as a whole and before an immense sky.

An artistic interpretation

That’s nice, isn’t it? They’ve delivered 24 cartons. The nice shipping people had an inventory of 27 items but they put all the cases of LP’s into one carton and the paintings into… Hold on! Where are the paintings? Yes, they have managed to lose the only things which can’t be replaced. I’d packed one of Jelena’s oil paintings separately so I have that but the others are gone daddy gone.

So that’s nice. Oh, and they arrived at 1.15pm.

Still most of my stuff is here now. We’re almost set for Saturday. Saturday! We’re getting married! Yay! It’s all really exciting. There’s some friends coming over from the UK which I’m delighted about, plus two of my cousins and my sister and her family. It’s going to be so great.

I have other stuff coming together such as my UofM application. And then there’s films to be found for Cinema Slam on February 3rd. Did I mention that I’m organizing that–the showcase of short films at the Michigan Theatre? So far I have about 30 minutes worth of material for a 90 minute programme but I’ve written to a few other film makers so it will all come together.

One cool development is that I wrote to the Rik Swartzwelder who made The Least Of These last year to say how much I enjoyed his film when I saw it at Filmstock in Luton. This week I wrote to ask if we could screen it here in Ann Arbor and he wrote back yesterday to say, yes, he remembered me and he’d be honored. Yay again! We’re going to have such a excellent show.

Of course the shipping company waits until today to phone. The week of the wedding. When there’s already a ton of other stuff to do. Of course they want to deliver this week. Tomorrow.

Yes, my belongings have been sat on a New York dockside for two months awaiting customs clearance. Yes, it’s all clear now and, yes, it somehow magically appeared in Chicago. But the shipping company couldn’t tell us that before, could they? Like when it was all actually en route from NY to Illinois. Several days ago. Ho, no. Ho ho ho. No.

Yes, it would have been far too easy to give someone a bit of advance warning. Instead it’s a 24-hour deal by the shippers. Tomorrow. Yes, that’s the most convenient time. For them. Well, we’ve sorted out a storage space for my 27 cartons from England and we’ll wait for them to call when they get there. Tomorrow. At noon.

What are the odds they’ll be anywhere even near that time?

Finally completed adding entries to The Attic today. For those of you who haven’t checked it out, it’s the link at the bottom of the archives on the right and it contains older writings. Among those is the diary (or saga) of the making of The Car mixed up with other thoughts on films and filmmaking, all of which you can find by clicking on the “Film making” link under categories.