Day 249: That'll Do, Pig

Yes.

Day 248: Play Time

Now then. I like that phrase. I'd like it more if Bruce Forsyth (or someone equally curdly) didn't use it. Even so. 


Today was a stash. Not a fuck-shit stack. I've had that song in my head since Rob sent it through the other day. http://vimeo.com/10107253. It makes me think of Dave Waller, a bit, and more still of King Nick 'Noop' Blagmaster, who is truly something, a prawn and a ninja. 


Oh, today has run out already, and my consciousness is fast following. Today's gifts included Jerry's general antics behind his bit of the set; a lovely exchange with Beectoreea Sandisom; two prospective offers of work, one I can't do and one I can; a chat with the best Jack ever, Jack Rebaldi; a string of texts leading to a pleasing thing to do tomorrow night, with a pandora's box-y kind of person; games on Primrose Hill with some lovely people; a free coke in a bar from the smiling barman when I tried to insist on buying a drink to justify my wee in their toilets; some new faces - three beautiful mothers (two French, one Spanish) and a skinny, hairy man with a plaited beard and plans for a festival who might need space, improvisers and people to get other people to play. Oh, yes.


Spanish mama was full of wine and positivity. She kept saying 'open your eyes... you see? open your eyes!' and 'what does it matter if they are younger?' in spooky ways. She lit up whenever she spoke. She was positive energy on tap. The other two, the French mamans were hilarious, happy, playful.


I rolled down a hill until I felt sick (didn't take long). I beat every one of those people with a length of foam piping and allowed myself willingly to be beaten. I gave a glow-the-dark frisbee to a stranger. I laughed. I had a really effective stage fight outside a pub with Loose. She took to it like a duck and we played, punched, kicked and slapped. Some people outside too seemed to be enjoying it. 

I'm effectively asleep now, almost. Thank you for such a fruitful, playful day. Yes. 

Day 247: Unfashionably Late

Raarrghhh

Didn't write this last night. Blogger said no, then so did I, so it'll be a double-blogging day today. This will be brief. I need to have a shower and go to work (wooo - I love to be able to say that). My last event for a while with hilarious Mr Lindop. Aahhh.


So, in brief, yesterday. Momentous in its own way. Minor in its other ways.

Vicious

At the pond, I showed my bum to a duck (in an intentional way, like when you drink a cup of tea at someone). At the pond, see, you're not allowed to swim naked. You're allowed to BE naked. Lots of people get changed outdoors, so there are often naked people. I was changing down on the grass and that's where I'd left my towel, so after my shower I came out with my swimming costume held ineffectually in front of my body. I was chatting with a lovely lady who was about to go in and I suddenly felt very naked. So I took it out on the duck with a disrespectful move. What can you do?


Soon after this, a moorhen bit my finger. I was reaching out to it. There was another duck nearby with fluff on the back of its head in a teenage chin way. It looked very different to said tiny moorhen, but perhaps it was a protective strike. More likely, though, a mixture of thinking it was food and being indignant (if fowl can) that it wasn't. That or instant karma.


Pleasing times at The Hub. I love being part of something. I love that I have an office where people say hello, seem to like me, drink tea together and take off their shoes. And my Audreys came, so I was wearing them. They're good. They do help me see. I don't think I really need them for computer stuff, but they're ace for little reading. My face could do with being a bit smaller, but that's nothing to do with my glasses.

I can see clearly now

I loved my meeting with Rob. Fruitful and inspiring, as always. I loved the decisions I've made. And I very much loved my late afternoon dalliances with the delightful Emily Cuphead-Meat. She is full of brilliance and vision. 


Oooh, and talking to Our Face. That was the momentus-y bit. And funny. Aaah... Good. She's good. 


That's all for today (aka yesterday). That's all.

Day 246: Both Ways

I did yesterday's yesterday, but when the internet cut out late, I stopped. I'll do today's tomorrow, mostly. But just to say, THANK YOU for such a juicy, juicy, wonderful day packed with meetings that made me want to dance. 


I even 'yeeeeooorrrsss'ed after one of them, so much I enjoyed it. They were all on the phone. I loved them. I laughed during all of them. I had a Wonderful Time. So very excited about this job. It rocks. 


And thank you that this ridiculous idea has come off. I DO have my pass and I AM going to Australia for about ten days, however silly that may sound. Brisbane, anyone? I think so. Anyone know good people in that area? Goodness, I'm VERY excited indeed. So, so, so happy about this. A little bit wide-eyed, but it's brilliant. 



Thanks to the lady in the bar who replaced my expensive mistake drink with another, for free, and let us keep the first. That was very nice of you. The pub was silly pricey, so I was hugely thanky for the money off. 


A very pleasing meeting with Simon, acting, writing, playing. And I'm deeply grateful to Juliet for passing on a gig tonight, and to Stroid, Luke and Jon for yessing it up and making it good. Nice to be fraternising with you people. The last few days have been very female. This one has been maler by far. Both ways pleasing. 

Day 245: Loop Doop

Right. I didn't wake up again, right. This has to change, right. Now, right. Right now. 

Victoria Sandison, full size

I saw many things that made me smile today. One of them was an impromptu meeting with wonderful Victoria Sandison. She is such a being. I texted her this morning to ask a favour of her and it ended up being a meeting in Hyde Park. SO good. SO sane-making to speak to her. She is so full of love and just so very pleasing. I love the way she lives her life. And I love her face. It's both pretty and funny at the same time. And twattish. Though ultimately, that's my job. 


An for thees, we estarteem ober tine weeb talkin een the way ob Leedle eSpanish Mam. Becaus een thee begeeneen, there was thees way ob speekeem. She starteen becos me, I haveen lamp een froh. Keh, keh. I coffeem. An i saddem talkeen een thees way, an then sayeen 'o, esorry, I habeem leedle eSpanish mam een froh ob me'. Only wen estarteen, thees langwage, she was eeseeair for annerstam, because she no so theek. an also she only spokem wor. Then after, she becammeen samfeen we can also writeem. 

¡O! ¿Quien es eso, con su mujer, Ana? 

There was the tine that we geebeen theeseepleenary to Eth, lobly frem ob Beec, becos she a mam who likeen also ober mam, an hee bery goo.lookeem, so ees momem for beeing angry weeb her. We talkeen also today ob Loong, lobly persom who was een Hasvro at same time as we. She een new Zeelam now. Bery far away. She gooth egg, thees persom.

Very small

Enaff. Back to normal talk, though once you start with that, it's quite hard to stop as it's so much fun. I feel like I can't remember all the pleasing things that have happened today, but I can. I can. I must. Oxford Circus isn't very far away by bike. That's a good thing. 

Not a Cyclon, but the best character

I'm SO grateful for all the things that are happening with my exciting trip. I'll spill many more beans once it's all fixed. It's extremely exciting, though, to me. Like, BIG TIME. And very grateful for two excellent meetings. Great stuff with the CPH job. Such juice. And Pudding. Good god, that woman is efficient. It's like being in the presence of a Cyclon. Beautiful, soft, emotional but secretly and incredibly efficient cyber-creature. Only there's no difference. They've evolved so they're just the same (GEEEEEK, Jude... Battlestar Galactica GEEEEK). So what I'm saying is that Pudding has it all. The efficiency of an automaton, the beauty of a goddess, and emotion by the bucketload. Good work, Pud. The whole meeting was great, and outrageously exciting. I love that we're doing this, and I also love how. 

I'm going here

And then another meeting, this time with a new person. I went for one thing and ended up with something else. I think we got excited about it. Stuff to do, but all good. Very good. I thought I had a week off. Thank GOD that I'm not doing that workshop this week. Thank god indeed. I wouldn't have the time, so I wouldn't. 


So it looks like those things that I noted in my brains and not on paper have floated up and popped. When they reform and come back down, I'll update. In the meantime, thank you for all of this. I am blissful and blessed. Yes. 

Day 244: The Force That Through The Green Fuse...

Oh, how silly. I didn't post the Lilleylink in yesterday's blog. I have now, but that's not the point. Here it is again. 


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URTT2A8I5_I&feature=share


I had the pleasure of speaking to this outstanding creature twice today. Well, more than that, but mainly because of phones cutting out. Two actual proper times. That's good, isn't it? I'm so grateful to have her in my life. Isn't it lovely to have a friend that says 'I love you' and to whom I can say it just so. Lilley's very specific with her praise, and she's very good at being truthful even when she knows it isn't what I want to here. Celine is especially good at that too, both with such grace and emotion. 


It took me far too long to leave the house today, but when I did, I got such gifts. It had just rained, the sun was shining and white clouds were blustering across the foreground over the backdrop of a dark, water-filled sky further East. Ha.. I say East as if I have any idea what I'm talking about. Over there, it was. Beautiful. It's one of my favourite things. 


I also got to swim in a pond full of screeching 12-year-olds. They did me good. When I got there, part of me was affronted by them. There is no apter word. Their shrillness poked me in the ears. The whole atmosphere, usually so blissfully calm, was pointy and sharp. I swam to the far end of the pool. After a while of floating, gazing up at a moving sky, with my ears mostly in silence, I lifted up and watched. 


They were LOVING the pond in such a loud and active way. They were lining up together to leap in, squealing orders at whoever's turn it was to take the photo. Their energy was relentless. They were having such a great time, in such a different way to most of the regular ladies (among whom I include myself). Normally, it's a quiet meditation for me. Today, it was a loud and pointy meditation. Just as good. And some 12-year-old chose this as their birthday party. "No thanks, Mum. Not McDonalds. The pond." I honour you, young thing. 


The whole heath was full of young things today. Offspring. Whelps. Smeems. Tiny yellow ducklings and gawky, teeny moorhen chicks, all tufts and clumsing. I saw the eatablest of puppies too, and an old-man-faced baby at a checkout. He was fascinated - transfixed, even - but very tired. He had dramatic arms. Too cute. Lilley put me onto this and opened my eyes to it. 

I stayed off facebook for most of the day. Thanks, Viv Goodings, for prodding me when you thought you'd seen me on there. You hadn't, but I saw your post much sooner than I should have, and that helped me log off again. I do like Fine Mr Goodings. Just the thought of him makes me smile. Standing on Oxford Street like the arty bit in a romcom or a music video, where everything streams past him but he is in slow motion. That's how Viv's consciousness is in my mind. Oh, i love stories too. 


Thank you for an unexpected gig offer for next Saturday. I am delighted and see that I shall be in excellent company. I'm honoured and very pleased. And in another town. I'm not sure where. I did read the words but no longer remember what they were. It's in the diary, though. Thank you, thank you, thank you.


And thank you for the very engaging, highly pleasing chat I had today. I felt buoyed. Still do. I smiled on the way home, and not just at dogs. And thank you thank you thank you for a job that tastes like it's going to be just amazing. I say 'taste' not to be poetic, but because I actually start salivating when I think about it. 


And all this to a soundtrack of Die Antwoord, mostly. And a little bit of Nick Helm. Softness and steel, today. Seriously. 


Thanks for all the help with decisions today, whatever you are. Thanks. 

Day 243: My Sweet Ginger Cream

How good is today?
In summary - full of good people, talks with strangers and those bigly beknown to me, a brand new term/concept about bikes, free food, good ideas, a swim, a walk, a singsong and a packet of biscuits. Get in.


So maybe oversleeping wasn't the best start, but breakfast with Ruth was a very good first properly awake thing to do. On the way up there, I passed a 'cycle jumble'. Wooooo! Bike porn! Well, kind of. Bike porn for people who can be bothered. It was in the hall where I parked my bike to go and look for gluten-free muffins (long story) and through the open double-doors, I saw boxes full of dismembered pedals, swaying frames and about half lycra, half cords/ill-fitting jeans. I would have gone back after for a delve (fumble/tinker), but I got a better offer in the form of Emily Cuphead Wilkinson, a very pleasing person indeed.


I was talking to the delicious, delectable Mrs Esther Lilley Harvey* on the phone outside Starbucks in Muswell Hill. I was there in a tiny grump. I'd just had more dealings with the manager of Panacea, just opposite. They're a health food shop that also sell shoes - FitFlops. Their version of customer service is so deeply shoddy that I found myself teetering between exasperation and humour. Particularly arse is the level of help of the manageress (who refused to give me her name - asked for very politely as the manager of the shop so that I could deal direct with the supplier, having had such frustrating and unwilling interactions with them at that shop). I phoned Esther Lilley partly to vent and partly because I imagined (rightly) that her laughing wisdom would make things look rosier. 


As we talked, I noticed a tall, bespectacled man sit at a nearby table. He was paying attention, kind of. He seemed interesting (to me). I would have like to talk to him. I went as far as asking him to look after my stuff while I fetched more coffee, and we exchanged a few other little things, but I chickened out of an actual proper conversation. 

**

One of the things I talked to Lilley about is this internet dating lark I've been doing. Oh dear, oh dear. You see, I'm not going to do stand-up about it, nor am I going to blame any of the men involved for their part in it. It's not them, it's me. Really. II'll try to explain. 


I get this head on when I'm going on a date. First of all, I tell myself how much I hate dating, especially internet dating (or any date where you meet a stranger and spend a few hours with them with a direct agenda of getting to know each other with the potential of romantic interest). The only time I've been able to enjoy it is when I know there's no danger of it taking off. Otherwise, I get wary and fronty. I put up a great big 'Of ccourse I can handle this' wall and I don't let any fucker near me. What a waste of time. Of course this isn't really how I want to meet potential partners, but it is what I'm doing, so why not take it that little bit more seriously? Or perhaps myself a bit less.


Yesterday, I met a lovely person, I think, but my I will not allow myself to properly relax and have a date without feeling cagey and endangered, though not in my physical person - no fear where that's concerned - how silly. In my head, I think 'try and attack me and I'll have your fkking face for breakfast', but people try to be nice and I'm some kind of impenetrable friend queen - like a Stepford Wife without any of the wifely wiles. He hasn't been in touch. Perhaps my refusal to extend the first date as far as dinner was taken as a total brush-off. Perhaps it was one. Perhaps not.  


I've been talking a lot with various good eggs about gathering up good states that come naturally with certain activities and getting them fired up during other activities where the habitual state is less useful. I know it's possible because I've done it before. Fuck, I need to do it again, and not just for other people. And SO not just in this area of my life.


I done a tangent. Sorry. 
I didn't have the nerve to engage with the engaging-looking tall man in the cafe. Not properly. I have since rationalised it and justified it, so I feel okay. It would have been a braver choice, though. And then I got a text from Emily Cuphead asking if I could make it for a swim on Hampstead Heath. YES. I would most likely not have gone, had she not texted, even though that was my intention. But I did go, and had the pleasure of her company, and the company of Hampstead Heath, for a good portion of the afternoon. Very agreeable too, it was. I'm excited by the coaching course she's just done. Sounds brilliant. Intelligent, sensitive, well ethical stuff. 

So not a pasty

I dropped down into town to drop off Rob's Oyster card, which I'd made off with by mistake on Friday. Due to a misunderstanding/me hiding by sitting on the table outside the Italian cafe I went to, the funky calzone they'd put it the oven for me was sold to someone else. They called out for me, apparently, all those handsome Italian boys, but I was not there. To make up for it, they gave me free pizza, all of which went to good homes. Best email EVAH from my good-enough-to-eat Edinburgh tenants. I love them a bit. A lot. They're just lovely. 



And when I got home, Peggy and her friend had dressed up all nice to go and have a singsong in the back room. It was supposed to be a party that didn't happen, so they dressed up anyway and cracked open a weeny bottle of Prosecco. I like 'a weeny bottle of Procscuitto' better, which is what I almost put. I joined in the song-singing (though I did not dress up). How brilliant to be able to be played for, sung for and sung with in your own home, posh frock or no. Then back upstairs to watch the Robbinator strut his oversized stuff, to my delight. 


So beat that for a day, muthas. Just beat that. 

* Check out the regal Esther Lilley in action here - she's worth moving up to York for, this one: 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URTT2A8I5_I&feature=share


** Photos of Lill, and video, done by Sam Strickland, who absolutely rocks. 

Day 242: YES to DENMARK

YES to the pond, trickling with rain, lush through and through. It has yellow holly leaves in it. I can't work out where they could be from. Everything is green apart from some bright yellow flowers on the reeds round the edge, and the occasional orange life belt. Great contrast. 


An early upping today. I'm exhausted as I slept very little last night, but very happy to have been up. I'm a fool. I have a tidy inbox, but have failed to make a rather big decision, or to make the necessary preparations for that decision to be made. Shall I do it now, with my cloudy head and half-closed eyes? Shall I? 


YES to a really meaty meeting. YES to exciting new plans. YES PLEASE to a bit more performing. 


Thank you for free air. In my tyres. It's appreciated. Thanks for the fact that today's underlying grump-bubble didn't pop in anyone's face (except a little bit behind mine, but nothing too outward). Thanks for being able to laugh about it even through the crossness. 
And for super-efficient Pudding and very loving Esther Lilley. I do hope her walk went well. Oh, oh, and of course, for Denmark. Never forget that. Denmark's great. 


I enjoyed some people being very nice to me today. In lots of ways. Thank you for the Heath and a new friend. And thank you, after a full day of dog reticence, for some excitable dog action from a little, lean staffie with a boozy owner and a damaged ear. Patch and Bill. Thanks, Patch, for not biting off my hand. Thanks for the same, Bill. 

Day 241: Femfresh Vagina Backlash

This is a hamster. Search term 'nauseous hamster'

So many actual THINGS to be grateful for today. 


Among the things you can touch, thank you so much, David, for sending my your comprehensive and precious Robbins DVD set and book. I know how much you value them and I'm massively grateful to have them. 


And thank you, findy, findy Alazne, for putting your hands right onto my notebook full of email addresses, notes and important shizzle. You did it like a psychic. You rock. 


Esther Lilley brightened my day three or four times today. That's a blessing in itself. I couldn't touch her, as she was on the end of the phone (and on a rather good video by Sam Strickland. Check THIS out. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URTT2A8I5_I


Thank you for the phrase 'How do you like THEM apples?', which I heard in Goodnight Mrs Calabash last week. I also heard it said by a very senior man at The Pavement, having just won a game of Monopoly, feeling very pleased with himself indeed. The best bit was that it just came out. It was a funny thing to say, but it was just what slipped out in his glee. He was kind of hot anyway, and when he said that he suddenly got hotter, in my eyes. 


Thank you too for the shot of two action men posing quite camply next to a tree in Islington. I really wanted to take said Action Man dolls home. I love them and I only have one now. Gone is my collection (including the massive-thighed one with the gun hand that was given to a small boy by my landlord Dermot many years ago - much to my disgust). However, they were so ace, I felt they should be left for a good while longer. This will motivate me to find my cable, so I can transfer the photos I took and post them on here.

I loved seeing Catherine yesterday too - and partaking, with her, of Polisse, French film full of beautiful performances and lots of interest, if a somewhat unresolvey story or eight. Very good though. And how can I not be kneel-worthily grateful that we were the only two people in the Belsize Park cinema. I LOVED running round and round the cinema in relays, panting and giggling, and I loved 'sitting' upside down on the seats, legs flailing, playing catch with cushions. Thank you, my Very Grown-up Friend. Thank you. 
Here's her version: http://reasonstokeeponbreathing.blogspot.co.uk/


Thank you, Esther Lilley for this link. (http://www.buzzfeed.com/expresident/pictures-that-will-restore-your-faith-in-humanity - made me cry - thanks for that, Lill!) 

And for your stories. Thanks to you, I know that however much I might covet the idea of being with someone, it's worth waiting for the person who makes me laugh and tickles me (figuratively) as Daniel does you and who speaks my language (you know what I mean - evidently speaking other languages is a massive bonus for me - so I don't care what flavour the words are as long as the sense is spot on). Someone who can incapacitate me with delight and laughter. I have some level of faith, at least.


Oh, and this. Thanks for this, and its title (Femfresh Vagina Backlash). I saw it on a facebook link and thought immediately of my sister, Our Face. So I looked further and found she'd already made a comment. Vagina Monologues, eat your heart out. 
http://wallblog.co.uk/2012/06/21/femfresh-suffers-social-media-vagina-backlash/

?

And we're back to how childish I am. Words for 'vagina' are often very funny. Vic and I spent many hours, when you add it all up, both together and separately, cackling about such words (among so many others) while enjoying the Viz Profanisaurus/Magna Farta (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roger's_Profanisaurus). Clunge stands out. One of the posts on this thread just said 'Minge'. I laughed for far too long. I'm sorry I'm such a child when it comes to rude words. I'm a bit sorry. I'm a bit not. Aah, take your pleasures where you can. It's funny.


Thank you too for sweet Celine. Pud, I've missed you such a lot. You're someone I admire so deeply. You make your maman proud, Pud. You do, you do. And me. 

Day 240: Audrey

This morning, I saw this on a cheap specs site.

https://www.eyelids.co.uk/ladies-fashion/#ty;pagination_contents;/ladies-fashion/page-3/

I particularly like that you can select what power you'd like this far-reaching gentleman to be. What I ordered were Audreys. We'll see when they come. Hopefully I will see. Right now things are getting a little cloudy. 

Excursions... Absolutely brilliant. Yes, Yes, Yes. Ace. Home-grown hip-hop, musicians who are a delight to watch as well as hear. There's something that music does to the body of a musician. It's a kind of possession. The bass player wore a look of peace and euphoria much of the time, like he was tasting the sweetest fruit, being kissed and hearing angels. Rob and Dave both move amazingly - Rob's transformed into this creature with music coursing through him like electricity and Dave goes all zapply. And the drummer - Adam - so intent with his eyes, listening with every cell and just sometimes a look of such intense joy... the embodiment of flow and divine bliss. 

There's more, but now there is only this. 

Day 239: How Late It Was...

This images says 'Write Play Write' to me. Just me, then?

How does this happen? it's already quarter past midnight. I should have been asleep for an hour and I haven't even taken off my shoes yet.


Lovely, lovely, lovely impro and creative writing workshop tonight - the first one I've run. It was mostly attended by writers who had done no playing, and they did SO well at just going for it. We did some really juicy exercises and we even played Columbian Headfuck for a bit. They did really well. I swear I saw a lot less gazing into the middle distance and loads more writing. I loved it and I think they did too. 


Grateful for them, for the space, to Anna Levy for always being so great at asking me to do stuff like this - helps me stop trailing my arse on the ground and gets me working. 


I had the pleasure of speaking with sweet Pudding today. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Day 238: A Many-pronged Fork

How does it happen? I know every day that I'll blog and then it's after 11 and my eyes are already doing a mutiny in my face, pushing towards sleep, and I STILL haven't blogged. Thank god it's such a pleasing thing to do, or I'd never get to it. I'm sitting up very straight in my chair, hoping that my eyes will stay calmly facing forward for the duration. Wish me luck.

Parallelogramophonograph in a river

Lovely breakfast this morning with Ruth and Carole, even though I wasn't really able to be as on it as I'd have liked to. Up was harsh. Early waking, then a text, then a conviction that I had an alarm all set for twenty to seven, but I didn't, so I overslept. Still, thanks to Ruth's encouragement, I made the time to drop down to the pond before my workshop. All lush, it was. It's almost embarrassing, there's so much abundance, so much burgeony green fulsomeness all around. My bones are thankful for that blissful water, though. My skin is too. 

Them dry

All morning, even until after lunch and then some, my face was tired and my mind all ribbled. I struggled to focus and drifted off in difficultness during the long-form workshop, even though it was good. Not drifting in a terrible way, but just in a cloudy, thick-faced way. It picked up a bit towards the end of the afternoon, when the stakes were somewhat upped in the shape of a performance. That's good news. Very good. I had turned down a lovely invitation to go and eat with very good eggs because of my cloudy head, and it had almost gone by the time, but I would have been late and rushed and that wouldn't have been quite right. I ended up being slow to leave, eating pizza and then having a good meaty chat with Revelation Man on the way home. Good beans, it was. Now, though, I fear I may never speak again. In sleep, I will write reams. In waking, nothing but drivelpap.


A dream novel. A novel dream. Either way, I'm grateful. 

I nearly bought a newspaper to get this, but then it showed up on a facebook feed, so I didn't spend that money. Good. Thanks.http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2012/jun/15/happiness-is-being-a-loser-burkeman?newsfeed=true


And great news: Victoria Sandison finally done a blog again. Her blog last time was very good indeed. I'm glad she's back. Click her up here: http://feasibly-short.tumblr.com/post/25314030337/admitting-defeat?og=1&fb_action_ids=10150881870726366&fb_action_types=tumblr-feed%3Apost&fb_source=other_multiline


And check out Mr Haidt: 
http://www.ted.com/talks/jonathan_haidt_humanity_s_stairway_to_self_transcendence.html

Day 237: Moat and Tap

Insecurity tap. I love that game. Rob's suggestion. Before you do a workshop or a set of scenes, say out loud the things you're afraid of: not being good enough; looking like a twat; annoying people; fucking up the scenes; being outed as a massive fraud; letting people down; letting yourself down (cue that very long joke, which I think is actually worth it). I wish I'd done that today. It would have saved energy and made the whole thing more worthwhile. 


I found myself a little crippled by fear today. Annoying. I was on the first day of a very good workshop. It really is a treat. There are LOVELY people there too. Nobody who's going to treat me like a twat (not intentionally, anyway). As one of the workshop leaders said in the pub 'Nobody really cares about anyone else'. By which she meant that the harshest judgements are what we project - we think they're coming from others when they're not. They're coming from our own fears. Most people don't have the energy to do both and if they're NOT judging themselves (thus leaving them with a bit more energy to spare) they're usually not judging you either. Projection etc. And we're back. 





I liked chatting more with Luke. A man full of revelations and general good stuff. Ace. And as always, it's such a treat to play. I was wasted when I got home, though - a combination of a very early riser this morning (about 3am, by my watch - my housemate is suffering from some pretty harsh insomnia at the moment) and an alarm clock that went off next door at sixish, plus lots of playing and concentrating. So much so that I was only marginally able to speak with any sense at all. 



I wanted to write down the things that I'd learnt, but I shan't, I think. I shan't. I shall dream it all instead, and tomorrow, there will be a castle. Ramparts and everything. Even a moat. Cue mist.

Day 235: Goodnight Mrs Calabash

I have just witnessed the death of a cat. Under the wheels of a car, it went. It didn't scream. I saw the same happen to a dog on Christmas Day when I was 14 or 15 and its screaming still stays with me. This cat made no sound. It writhed. Its back was wrong. Then it stopped, but it was still alive. 

I was cycling down the hill when I saw it happen. I stopped. I hovered, unsure what to do. A motorcyclist stopped too, and a car (though not the one that had gone over the cat). We all got off or out of our vehicles. I stood in the way of traffic while the motorcyclist lifted the cat carefully out of the road and laid it on the pavement. Still still alive. The car driver brought water. He splashed it on the cat. It was a gentle gesture, though it doesn't sound it in writing. Together, we watched as it died. Its eyes lost that tiny light that signals life. There wasn't anything we could do to stop that happening. We all gave it gentleness and affection, even though that made no difference to the outcome of things. 


There was no collar, so no number to call. These two men were both very concerned. They both have cats, they said, and they wanted to let someone know. We realised, though, that we couldn't. It was nearly midnight. We weren't going to go knocking on every door. And the cat was dead. There was talk of a burial, but it felt futile. By the time we left, we'd decided that leaving it on the bank, surrounded by ivy and leaves, was the best option. It would get eaten by foxes, Motorbike Boy said. Natural order taking its course. It'll feed a whole family of foxes, that. All the young ones. It was quite a positive note to end on, really. I wish that hadn't happened, and it's not a pleasant thing to see, but it was an experience I'm warm from. Three people, all different sizes, racial backgrounds, genders. A cat none of them knows. All of them doing 'the right thing' as far as they could, in a way that in itself has no significance, but as a moment, did. 


This at the end of a rather lovely day - no swim, for lazy lateness and lots of sleep, but a lovely meeting with Rob at lunch time, and a very good conversation, unexpected in its depth and significance, I think. Very much appreciated. And then a proper big go on a very small dog. I asked its owner if I could say hello as he was about to place it in the basket of his bike. Rob had gone indoors to fetch cake. The man handed me his dog (it was small and long) and said 'Here - you can hold him while I sort this out.' He then ignored me till he was ready for the dog (quite a long time) while I stood with it in my arms, its head almost over my shoulder, like a baby. I was tempted to burp it. 

A trundle up The Hub, where I was very warmly greeted by Anna and Alazne. Very warmly indeed. I found out that seven or eight people seem to have booked for my workshop on Monday night, which is great. It's creative writing and improv mixed, with the aim of helping the creative buzz.  I'm excited. And I had some help from a handsome, helpful O2 boy/man/boy, when in fact, I'm on giffgaff, not O2 (I was up front - they helped me because they were kind). 


Then up to Ruth's for dinner with her and lovely Carole from Bardsey and Blaenau Festiniogg. That was a treat. There's a softness in Carole's face that's a pleasure to see, and Ruth is always a delight. Then we went to a theatre. We saw a very moving musical - a world premiere - at The Gatehouse, with Marghie too. It was really very well done indeed and I had a weep. The stories behind it were stunning. It was the story of Jimmy Durante and pivots around the death of his wife. The lead actor in this production walked out an hour before the show opened a couple of weeks ago. He said he was going to the toilet, and never came back. They know he is safe and alive because his boyfriend contacted them, but they have not heard from him directly. They had to pull the first week of the show and rehearse another actor for the lead, in a show in which he had to imitate a real person, sing, dance and carry the whole thing with a shed-load of charisma, timing and kick-ass prowess. The rest of the cast were excellent, and there's no denying that there's intense pressure on the lead. It was great. 


In the program, there's a small box at the bottom of the page explaining that a week before the show was due to open, the writer/producer's wife died in her sleep. What? I was - still am - stunned and humbled. I'd have cried even harder, I think, had i known that. I cried pretty hard as it was. 


I can hear the foxes shouting outside. I hope they're about to make their find. Goodnight.