I realise this is a common theme of my blogs. I’m absolutely bloody shattered, conked out, finished, Gordon Browned. I’ve just done a rather ordinary matinee performance, where I sweated so badly in my woollen suit that within five minutes I looked like I’d been swimming in it. I’m so excited imagining what it will smell like in a week and a half’s time when it’s gone through a month’s performance without cleaning. I’m thinking of actually trying some therapies to see if I can sweat less – homeopathy, neurolinguistic programming or going to live in the arctic circle.
The play continues to go wonderfully – great revues all round apparentally (don’t message me if you’ve found a bad one – I’ve decided that all bad reviews are just jealousy – that’s what mummy used to say when I was little). As I said before, all reviews mess me up in some way. If they say I’m fantastic I start becoming self-conscious and, if they say I’m awful, I have dark thoughts about the person who wrote it. It’s best if I just steer clear and read them on the plane to Dubai in a couple of weeks. I’m off to the Middle East to do some gigs a week after the play finishes. I think I’ll have earned a long soak in a five star hotel’s swimming pool after a month of the play and gigs.
I’m off now for a kip.
27th June, 2009 at 8:00 pm