My top 5 places to cry uninterrupted around the home and town centre…………………

As we all know/can imagine, being a creative is quite the roller coaster.

Some days you’re up there on the roof of the shed dressed like Sidney Poitier and singing “Money, money money” into a hair brush. The day is warm, the sun beats down on your already completely golden and very sexy body. Your hair is neither too short nor too long and sits in a way you often think you would like it to sit. There is an easy rhythm and rhyme to your words and the ongoing hopefully-not-too-serious pain in your elbow lays dormant.
Over the fence you hear neighbours barking frantically into phones about this absolute babe that lives next door, YEAP they have shows coming up in New York and Milan and Paris and New York “YYYEEESSS YOU’LL REMEMBER HIM KEITH, HE WAS THE ONE WHO BOUGHT THE QUICHE ROUND FOR BRIAN’S BBQ LAST YEAR KEITH……….YES, EXACTLY……NO, PAN-CHET-TARR KEITH!! IN NEW YORK KEITH!!!!! NEW- YORK!!……WE HAVE BEEN INVITED TO THE PV KEITH!!! IT MEANS PRIVATE VIEWING KEITH……… YES KEITH, EXACTLY…..IT’S IN NEW YORK KEITH!!!”
There’s a free picnic for brunch where the sausage rolls are artisan, foot-long and fat free. Though before settling down to the clinking of glasses and hobnobbing over a slice of Gateaux finé there’s just a quick moment to check the phone for instagram notifications.

Oh

Only ____ so far.
And _____ of those are a combination of the SEND-PIC lunatics and the newer strain of “cools imagings friend i like buy” NFT hopefuls.
The sun ducks behind a cloud and immediately your elbow starts to ache. You catch your reflection in the phone screen and see your hair is looking a little tired, thinner perhaps?
Maybe everyone is out and about and not really looking at instagram? Yeah, actually it was a funny time of day to post. It wasn’t the best photo sure, but you’ve posted worse….
Maybe it’s the algorithm.
The neighbours quieten down and head indoors.
Maybe it’s just shit?
It can’t be though eh? It’s brilliant!! It was the one, the series that was going to bring international acclaim and the holy grail show in Milan and New York and Paris and in New York.
No one likes it though mate.
It starts to rain.
You’ve given almost the entire business cash-flow to the framer.
It rains harder.

Oh, your mum’s friend likes it.

After the drama of putting your soul on the road and getting it run over, you’re left unable to comprehend why no one else understands you, your beautiful vision, your immaculate, witty, stylistic vision.
Well look! That person’s work is awful, but seems to be working out just fine for their critical international acclaim.
Why not you?
Why can’t people just pretend to like it - no-one’s going to make them buy it - just double tap bro, honestly, in return we’ll like ALL of your future posts indefinitely. Honestly.

It doesn’t matter. It’s only instagram, it’s not real anyway.
Just go for a cry.
It’s difficult to reason with nearest and dearests in this situation. This is because if you suggest you’re upset and are able to find words that explain why, you will almost certainly be met with very rational and loving words in return about past sales, previous success’, the demise of Instagram and the cost of living.
All of these things you are obviously blissfully aware of, but that knowledge is as good as void. Crying is the only way out of this, you know it and they know it only they are not quite brave enough to accept it. So as to avoid the well wishers, the yay-sayers and the do gooders it’s important to be discreet, both to prolong the suffering and intensify the indulgence. Here’s the shortlist of good places I’ve found to cry uninterrupted in order of their greatness.


1) The scene of the crime. In the same space you produced the work, amongst the work, amongst potentially new work, amongst old work, amongst the suffering. The tools of torment looking at you, feeling for you but not saying anything daft like - why don’t you just turn the like-count off. They’ll remember this and be better for you - they owe you…..big time. It is likely a private spot anyway with a good door where within you can find time to confront any misplaced pride with despair whilst having a little fondle with shame.
2) Work. If you have another job, one which your paid for and, you are able to save up your emotional outpouring for. Do it there. You are getting paid for it.
The employees there are less likely to link your sadness to people not really liking your soul that you put so neatly into the road and got it run over.
They will make assumptions but because of HR sensitivity, they cannot judge you publicly.
You might even be sent home or given biscuits.
3) Green grocers. This is possibly specific to my grocers, but you never know. You can be in there for as long as you need - examining both the exotic and the mundane. The fellow that works there might have another job in a call centre as i’ve never seen him not on his phone, so he won’t be bothering you. The bulk of the clientele are modern students, a friendly, often beautiful but non-intrusive bunch and you are surrounded by the all-repairing produce that can make your body sexy again, your hair thicker, smile brighter and dramatically improve your general well being. It’s basically the opposite to the workplace biscuits situ - but both excellent on their own merit. There is a small and barely used chair in the corner for the elderly or the infirm that is almost always available if required.
4) The bath. The bathroom alone is not usually sufficient cover as you’ll need to explain your appearance upon exit. The bath, however, while not usually an epicentre of suffering could be made too hot or too cold for added poignancy. Splashing water is a good tool to dampen the sounds of deep wrenching sobs. It seems a little obvious, but one is permitted a bath at any time of day, any day of the week, in any season without requiring a single reason.
5) The bus. It can go either way, but mostly you’ll be given a wide birth, which is generally speaking is the aim on a bus anyway.
The person behind will acknowledge your shoulders heaving (if the cry gets that far), but unlikely will act on this with daft words or phrases and the rest of the passers-by might, at most, give you encouraging smiles and lanterns of hope. Mostly though you will be ignored or unnoticed to suffer in peace. On these shores it’s also only two pounds for as long as you like and, if you get to the end of the line and still upset - all good drivers will bring you back at no extra cost.

In closing, a few weeks back i couldn’t sleep on a Saturday night and heard a young couple outside the house having a very civilised break up. It just wasn’t working.
The girl sat on my wall for quite a while and was doing some loud crying. It was a very moving and painful experience to be a witness to. I considered multiple times going down and offering her a fun-size Double Decker from the cupboard, but also i was very aware that much like me, you and most people that cry, she probably just wanted to do it on her own.
She might even now have a list of the best break-up crying spots ‘23 which could well feature my front wall.

If you have read this and have any cool spots i should know about you can get me in my DM’s, would love to hear about it.
ross.bruce.16

xx