Sunday

I remember now. Last year I wrote the Christmas Carol blogs before the show, in the daytime. I realised that if I left it too late they would descend into circular shambolic witterings and blurry pictures as the post show party and decompression kicked in and I lost my ability to form coherent sentences.

Today I’m attempting to corral myself into doing some work towards marketing this thing we are building at Vault Festival, but I find it hard to think outside of Carol as a show that takes full focus. Once again I’m relieved we have such clean and sharp digs, and that we aren’t living on top of other people. I can stagger around the kitchen in my pajamas, eloquently swear out loud to myself, and lie on the sofa half dressed writing emails and blogs and marketing guff.

At some point Jack and I will wander across Sunday Sheffield, and click back into gear for the last show of the week. Only one today. Yesterday was two and then we got wasted. Jack was wingmanning like nobody’s business and it’s been a heavy two nights. We are now both stumbling around the flat saying things like “No alcohol tonight, yeah. Straight back home, right.” We shall see. The best laid plans of mice and men. Although I do have it in my power, at the end of the show, to just not invite the audience for a party. Which is tempting considering we’re exhausted, it’s our day off tomorrow, and the bar spend goes directly to the venue here.


We managed it. It’s not even ten and we are home, having tidied the flat and eaten properly. I’m playing Fleetwood Mac and Jack and I are both winding down, reading, making plans for tomorrow. I went ahead and bought that Kindle. I felt slightly guilty about it, as nothing beats a good book, but when you’re living out of a pack it allows a much greater level of choice. I got a waterproof one so I can drop it in the bath. Jack recommended an author and I’m going to get lost in  nicely written mindless fantasy.

Sunday night audience tonight and we felt it. After the craziness of Saturday, where I ended up swapping tops with a 24 year old, dancing behind the bar and doing headstands on the dance floor, I was relieved to have a smaller quieter crowd.  About six teenagers who thankfully got stuck in, and lots of polite people. Very little alcohol being consumed generally. We love it when people get off their faces in this show and the last couple of shows Jack and I have essentially been conducting a bacchanal. So it was jarring to remember that sometimes we have to generate that energy without it being amplified and fed back to us.

Tomorrow is technically a day off but I’ll be washing sheets and sorting marketing and getting costumes stitched up and doing radio interviews and tidying. But if I want to I can go to the Sheffield Christmas market and have a glass of mulled wine. For reasons that will be obvious to any constant reader, I have never touched alcohol before a show, but maybe I’ll blow a fiver on something worth 50p tomorrow. And like it.

We’ve already washed and hung our costumes up in our nondescript IKEA flat. 20181209_233023Always working! 🙂

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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