I pulled myself away from the pub post show. Lots of lovely people came in to see Twelfth Night this evening. One more show tomorrow night and then it’s done. I’ll miss it when its gone. One more night. Wow…
I really wanted to do the AFTLS job again after the first time through the job five years ago. Because of all the classes, which were an unfamiliar pressure, I didn’t have much headspace back then to take the time I had and to be in the places I was in. This time I think a spot of maturity worked wonders. I enjoyed the classes almost as much as I enjoyed the shows. And more importantly I learnt how to properly activate my daytimes. In the past if I’ve had an evening show I’ve found it very hard to give my full attention to anything in the daytime leading up to it. AFTLS is the company that taught me how to do that and credit where credit is due. Without having the children that so many of my contemporaries have managed, it’s been easy to just use the mornings to recover from the adrenaline, or failing that from the alcoholic self abuse that can result from the adrenaline comedown. Living with Brian, who will rise by half seven no matter what he’s done to himself – it helped me activate my downtime better. I still can’t do the thing he does. But I’m closer to it. And the pressures of teaching a load of Air Force Cadets to be awake and alert with text first thing in the morning – it wakes you up as well.
I’m home and it’s not even 1. That doesn’t sound like an achievement but it is. The bath is running. I’m winding down properly. I’ll be into rehearsal tomorrow at ten for Christmas Carol. I might have a cup of herbal tea. Or a hot toddy. But I’m on the wind down. Post show I’ll often be the last man standing. My natural adrenaline production is probably disproportionate. I love the stuff, and I get a big old hit of it.
Most of the other guys had family in tonight. I had friends. My friends are my family, of course, and they came up trumps. There were some lovely surprises, some from a long time ago, some very familiar faces from more recently.
The show was a blast. I was uncharacteristically nervous, probably because my head is already buried in the next show so I wasn’t sure I could remember this one. My self monitor didn’t switch off for most of the first half, which is unusual. As a result it wasn’t my best, but I know that the nuances in my view of my own work are mostly personal and based on strange inherited insecurities. The audience had a great time I’m sure. And so did I. I probably sweated two litres. But it was happy sweat.
Now I’ve got dodgy reduced Mac and cheese, a hot bath and a hot toddy. Tomorrow we will hit our last bit of detail work for Christmas Carol before we open on Wednesday, and I’ll have to keep a little bit of myself back in order to be full forward for one more night of Belch. He’s a dangerously addled psychotic for me. I’m channeling my mayhem. It’ll be nice to be able to cut my hair though, when it’s finally done.