I’m sitting in my shorts on this bench again, with a lovely flask of tea, contemplating how lucky I am, covered in suncream, and thinking that perhaps I’m to hot right now to even contemplate writing this blog…
So I didn’t. And now I’m here again and it’s evening. Much milder. Time pressure this time though. I was way too slow getting here. The problem with glorious weather is it makes me want to luxuriate. But if I compare how I feel this evening with how I felt for a lot of last week, when the temperature plummeted and the rain slogged down … Well I’m certainly a lot happier now. But there’s the text to say the show has started. They won’t be with me for at least fifteen minutes. But I’ll need to be set up and with at least a rudimentary vocal warm-up completed to stave off the ragged vocal state that I found myself in on Sunday at this time.
Audiences are better for this show in the afternoon, which I guess makes sense. After all it’s a kid’s show. We did morning performances the last time I was in a kids show, and I think the latest we ever started one was about 4pm. They’re up early, those noisy little beggars. I’m only going to have to do it six times this evening, which feels almost restful.
The tea flask is a stroke of genius as well. Taking the time to organise little luxuries for ourselves pays itself back in spades. I’ve been happily sipping my way through all the Yogi Tea since I found it in Holland and Barrett. Original blend in the morning and then the throat one in the evening. The original one is just yum, although it strikes me that the throat one would be very well assisted by the addition of some whisky. For the last few days I’ve had to resist getting a little pocket bottle of single malt and dropping a tot in with the tea. Not with all this talking. That would be madness. I already have to police myself not to confuse badgers and weasels. But still, right now that would be a lovely little loosener, if I didn’t have the hard wired code to NEVER drink before I work. A man can dream. Best warm up.