Knee deep in rock n'roll

As I said, about month ago I got a call from a guy I met through a friend of mine. I auditioned for a voiceover in a project that still to this day hasn't materialized. So, my scepticism was only to be expected. This time the guy had another project- a documentary about an English rock band. Would I be interested? Erm... yes. (Could I afford not to? UN isn't exactly banging on my door with job offers...)

I grossly overpriced my (not so discernible) talent and he was still willing to take me on.  My salary for the 5-day job would be enough to pay off my entire VISA bill. What's not to like? (Apart from the fact that I immediately decided to celebrate my good fortunes by planning my next shopping spree...)

Initially there was some translatory work and eventually we travelled to another town where a festival was held in their honour. 

We, the crew, stayed in a villa outside the town and had a pretty awesome time. I'd never met them before, but we hit it off and did a pretty good job. No, make that awesome. But let me just tell you- that rock n'roll lifestyle is not for me. On average we got about 4 hours of sleep each night. I'm still feeling frazzled. As are my lungs- the rock stars (which meant me too) smoke a lot. Like, even more than The Man's mum. And she's the least rock n' roll thing I know. I so should have listened to Bunny's advice... From now on my chosen drug will be Louis Vuitton, though the financial situation has reduced me to a mere recreational user.

The villa was located in a fairly isolated place in a camping site next to the sea. All very picturesque. All very... Blair Witch Project. Especially when they started unloading the van from all the equipment. A remote location, 5 guys, 1 girl and shitloads of cameras? You tell me. But seems a bit... dodgy, yes?

In the end it all went well. Though all that abundant nature made me realize exactly how disconnected I am from the nature girl I'm sure is lurking somewhere within, with her 4-inch-heels. And I'll have you know, in Spain I'm a naturist. Yes, exactly what it says on the tin. I prance around naked. Among total strangers. (Luckily it's confined to one particular beach) Initially when The Man suggested it I was petrified. Until I realized I was still allowed to bring all my accessories. And the people there were wonderful and welcoming. Until they asked us if we were naturist back home as well and I replied with a very horrified expression all over my face "what? you think we're some kind of pervs?!"

Anyway...It was bizarre. There was all this green stuff. And all these stars. And late at night the sea was steaming from the heat of the late summer's day. And there was this amazing silence. No neighbourhood drunks shouting obscenities, just... birds and...stuff. And that weird sound leaves make in the wind. All very strange and... downright unnatural. 

Then (yes, there's more) as we were making our way to the sauna I caught a glimpse of something even more terrifying. A creature. With 4 legs. And 2 long ears. Just sitting there. Staring at us. And what did I do? I panicked. Until my clearly warped mind came up with a  perfectly natural-seeming solution. "Ah," I heard myself saying (bizarrely relieved)"it must be a piñata". Seriously. You're in the middle of the woods and the most logical explanation you can think of is a Mexican party trick?! Note to self:  Woman- either get out more or drink less. 

And it wasn't until we were all back, having a beer (no, make that 15 beers) and we got talking about each other and I encountered the look. The look on every single face upon learning I'm with someone I've been with for almost 7 years; someone with whom months can go by without us seeing each other... And then the question, uttered in the most disbelieving of tones: "How can you keep going like that?" And I realized... I don't know if I can.