It’s 4pm and I just noticed that I’ve eaten nothing for almost 2 days apart from three salmon sashimi out of five, and a mouthful of turkey from an audience member. The lack of predictability in my waking hours means I often forget to eat. There are no “mealtimes” and I’m terrible at noticing when I’m hungry. My friends often know I’m hungry before I do. I started shivering about an hour ago and didn’t even work out that it was hunger for another 30 minutes. I then went to Itsu and pushed around a teriyaki rice bowl but could barely swallow it. Everything tastes like ashes right now. I think I need to go home after the show tonight and sleep long and warm. Thankfully now we are into the run, so I’ll be able to do just that.
I’m on the way in to work, with my costume in a bag. I took it home to wash after the show last night which is always worrisome as I’m liable to forget things like that and we have to do some nonsense at the Christmas lights in Bond Street tonight. I gave myself palpitations in the process of discovering that when it’s wet it looks pink, but then it dries cream thank God. I was picturing a fuchsia Scrooge tonight.
I think I’m basically exhausted so things are magnifying. While I was writing, a woman on the tube shouted at somebody else’s child “Can those dirty feet get off the seat please,” and the rage in her voice made me feel a bit sick. I probably should stop writing and try to have a lie down. I think I’m nervous about this lights ceremony thing. I’m imagining being clueless in my not pink nightie in front of hundreds of people.The reality is rarely as bad as it is in my imagination.
We did it. I humbugged to a bunch of bemused people standing about 20 foot from an improvised stage in Mayfair. Gatsby was there with sound and light. We just talked to them and got them to sing “falalalala” for a bit.
Then we did the show and – brilliantly – Katherine Jono and Kaffe from Twelfth Night were all able to come. Jack even got Jono and Katherine involved in Christmas Yet to Come. It was a glory. So wonderful to have them come and understand this strange beautiful show with me after the months of Twelfth Night. It’s press night tomorrow. I’m finally over press night anxiety, after too much experience of the things. I know it for what it is now – a show with an artificial audience. I’m just going to humbug as hard as ever, and the bit where I find out about them over dinner will hopefully not be too awkward. We will see. Either way I’m going to get a good night’s rest. A little part of me is dreading it, and a little part is looking forward. It’s a delightful show, proven and still alive. We want box office – (I’m not famous enough) – so hopefully the writers tomorrow will help sell the show…