A bit of space. I’ve been trying not to use my voice but forgetting. We had a Sunday Roast, lots of The Tempest company, all together at Oxford Blue. We had booked it for 1pm but virtually nobody was there on time. Ryan arrived and immediately needed to stream the rugby as it wasn’t playing. The pub WiFi was down. I ended up tethering my laptop to my phone and streaming it through a Sky Sports day pass on a Now Tv trial subscription that I’ll have to remember to cancel before next week. Harder than it needed to be, and Ryan bought me two pints for it, but it was worth it for him when England beat Wales. Half of the company was cheering for Wales. I had no real affiliation but was glad we could all hang out in the same space and relax. The Tempest company is glorious. I can’t quite comprehend that we only have four shows left.
I’m home in London and it’s after midnight. I forgot this blog existed until I had had a bath and was on the wind down towards bed. Four more days of being swallowed. I’m looking forward to having time again, like I had today. It was so lovely to just slouch round Oxford with the company.
Pickle is home again. She had the weekend holidaying at Rebecca’s, but I managed to find the time today to swing over in an uber and grab her, and catch up with a friend into the bargain. I’ve been able to socialise! It’s been incredible. Miles and Rebecca and I sat in a room and spoke like humans.
Until it became so difficult I didn’t notice how necessary it is to just shoot the shit with other human beings. I’ve had the best day. I’ve even shot loads of demons in Doom 2016. I’m using my laptop to try to catch up on about a decade of missed computer games if I ever get time to sit down. It’s the opposite of being a teenager right now.
I’ve got a house guest. She’s going through a tough time. Brian just handed her his keys when he found she was unhappy and needed a change of scene, knowing he’d be away and she could have his bed. She’s great, and we shared a roast chicken this evening and chewed the fat.
I’ve had the day I needed. Two Sunday roasts. Beef and chicken. Lots of good conversations. Exploding kittens in Oxford – (it’s a card game). Miniature Pickle kittens in London that didn’t explode. “It’s amazing how she responds to her name,” says Rebecca, and it’s true. That cat knows her own name. Her use name. She has secret names too. She has to – she’s a cat after all.
I’m happy and rested, full of food, eyes insisting on closing down. Only four more days of overlap and from tomorrow the USA company is complete in the rehearsal room. The dynamic is already excellent, and there is definitely room for my dear friend’s positive energy.