A week today is the end of the bonkers commutefest. I won’t know what to do with myself. I’ll have huge long evenings not filled with shouting in a tree and dozing on a train. I’ll be able to clean my room, sort my shit out, get everything together in time for flying out to the USA for endless months. I’ll be able to stay until the end of rehearsal, and then do social things with the lovely people in the cast. My tired voice will relax a little. My tired brain will stop trying to sabotage my ease. All will be well and all will be well and all manner of things will be well.
It’s that time where we have to start dropping the book in rehearsal now, and stand exposed in the unsure learnings.
Learning Shakespearean prose is considerably harder than learning the verse for me. I’m having to shove Toby into my head with a plunger, and the more I shove it in the more shit comes out of my mouth. It’s one thing to’ve learnt the thoughts, but when you haven’t got the iambic frame to hang them on, you find yourself in the spur of the moment saying crap like “The youth hath in him all the intelligent cleverness that clever people have usually got, it’s why the count duke count duke lady duke the count fuck it’s why the count uses him so much um well um he’ll see this letter is so excellently ignorant and know it comes from a clodpole.” Which isn’t quite Shakespeare even if it gives the right reaction cue for Fabian.
So much to do. Time to do it. But so much to do. It’s terrifying and brilliant all wrapped up into one. We don’t even have a full company yet. Aargh.
Today I didn’t want to leave the run-through until we had got to the bit we started the day working on. As a result I stayed too long in the room and sprinted to Brixton Station. It was only when I got to Brixton that I realised I’d left my phone in rehearsal. We run The Tempest through a WhatsApp group. I need my phone. I sprinted back to rehearsal – “we tried to chase you but you’d gone”. I got it, sprinted back to Brixton, elbowed my way onto the smooth running tube. I flolloped onto the right train about 2 minutes before departure, caked in panic sweat overlayed with heat sweat, but still clutching a triumphant ginger kombucha and satay chicken that I had garbled an order for in Leon with no time left. I’ll have the energy I need for the show. Saturday is looming and despite two shows it’ll be restful. Sunday will be line sharpening and lunch with The Tempest.
I’m still on the train. I’ll be on stage in forty minutes. This is madness, I tells ya. Madness!
At least my costume is easy to put on. I reckon I’ll get ten minutes of sitting still. You can do a lot with that.