Well,
that Clare Kerrison is pretty good, isn’t she?
You
can’t complain about a day like today. I wasn’t working. It’s a long time since
I’ve had the kind of job where I’m actually glad that I don’t have to go to
work. In this job with The Challenge, especially the first day of each three
day shift, I experience a certain degree of trepidation (or dread). Having said
that, my sessions have got better and I have learnt more and more as we’ve gone
on. So here I am, typing, adjusting my mental representations of the job.
Nevertheless, it is always nice to have a day or two off.
Today, I
did my washing at the launderette. Because the news was full of the balmy day
today was set to be, I brought it back and hung it out to get all fresh-airy in
the day, and dry. It’s a small triumph to have achieved that before 9.15 this
morning, but a triumph nevertheless. And now it’s dry and crisp and a bit
outdoors-smelling. Result.
After
that, off to a Meisner day, which I enjoyed very much indeed. Springboard.
Dominique Gibbs. Taster day. It was a very good thing and I loved it. So nice
to play. We did the basics and although we’re learning a lot, it does, by its
very nature, take a long time. So it was lovely when Dom got an old hand in at
the end of the day to come and play too. They did a repetition exercise
together to finish and it was a delight. Perfectly timed. It gave me a taste
for more, even more so than the day itself. That experience of being in the
flow and in the moment like that, even if only for flashes (in my case). It was
very satisfying to see them play. I want to play like that too, please.
A bus
deposited me at Liverpool Street in perfect time to meet Lovely Kerrsion. We
drank coffee and talked until our mouths fell off. We have the same watch, you
see. That’s why we get on so well. We had a lot to say to each other… We had a
lot of ideas. She sparked my imagination about all kinds of things. We have set
ourselves to scheming and I’m awfully glad we have. She had to leave to get to
the theatre to see Propeller do Shakespeare at the Hampstead Theatre. They are
the source of the most moving, dynamic and entirely crushing Taming of the
Shrew I’ve ever seen. 
On the
train on the way home, I was transfixed by a lady’s toenails. They were bright
red with lightning on them. Her fingernails were the same. I had to comment, so
I did. It took a couple of times to get the message across, but finally she
made out my intention. She beamed. She’d just had them done (as soon as she
said, I could smell that nail bar smell). She is going on holiday tomorrow,
this beautiful lady, to Ghana, for a month. What she’s done, in her words, is
‘pretty myself’ for the trip. I LOVE that. What a great thing to say. She was
very nice. Once I commented on her nails, another woman across the aisle did
too, and we all marveled at them for a bit. I enjoyed that. I also enjoyed
seeing the rucksack of another passenger marked. ‘Annual Liver Conference’. I’m
sure they were talking about cirrhosis research, but in my head, they were
celebrating all the ways of making liver (e.g. with bacon, with onion, in a
pie, on toast). Or just celebrating livers for the sake of it. Either way, it’s
mint.
I had a
quiet evening at home, full of meat and sweetcorn, followed by the arrival of
Ruth. What a joy that was too. We managed to talk for a good hour at least,
though we were both very tired. She’s home now, and hopefully fast asleep
already. I shall follow suit. It’s good, good, good to have her back, though.
Very good.
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