Being Here
I’m home
So I read somewhere recently that actors refer to people outside their profession as “civilians”. Of course they do — or if it’s not that word, it’ll be another one with a similar meaning. No doubt key grips, gaffers and best boys share such an attitude too.
Aside: I remember somebody who went into a film-industry PR company being banned from meetings with big-star clients until she could get her reactions under control.
We all have a word — or an attitude — that makes us insiders. It’s tribal, probably instinctive. Police look out at non-police; writers talk about readers (I know two now who talk about “fans”); plumbers express amazement at people who don’t know how to — but I don’t know how to do that either.
That insider feeling. A sense of belonging to something.
I walked into Planted Cafe this morning, first time after my holiday, and Briony offered me a loyalty card.
Not just that, but — “Hey, William!”
“Hey, William!” as I came through the door.
A spontaneous “Hey, William!”
Leroy (the dog) waited for me to sit down and then came over and sat on my feet.
Newcomers to the creative life
Usually when I go in there (on Saturdays), Planted Cafe is a hard-at-work space full of students writing novels and students illustrating graphic novels and students scribbling on printed-out screenplays.
All of them hard at work on their own projects.
Get William Essex’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
Info-dump: the university here is big on arts and media; staying on in Falmouth is a popular career choice.
There’s a student film festival coming up soon, and both the film festival and the literary festival are coming up later this year. The Falmouth Bookseller has an associated publishing house.
Oh, and Planted Cafe just recently hosted the Falmouth Silent Book Club.
Young people. Industrious. I stand out like — I don’t know, like an old man eating a vegetarian wrap and scribbling in a notebook. [No, I’m not a vegetarian, but — try it.]
Like a passing local who just dropped in for lunch. Or a visitor from afar. The cruise-ship season runs round most of the year.
Home is where the cards are
That’s what I thought until Briony said “Hey, William!”
I explained that I’ve got a house-full of loyalty cards that I take home and put down and never think to pick up again.
“We can keep it behind the till for you.”
“Really?”
“With your name on it. You are a regular here, after all.”
I’m a regular here.
I sat down. Leroy ambled over.
I enjoyed my holiday, but — I’m home. And it’s good to be home.
