A weekend, and I’m glad of it. Change of seasons and dare I blame lack of habitual alcohol for bad sleep and lowered immune system. I’m snuffling like an aardvark. Went over my bit at the end, and again I’m thinking about Jo Blatchley, lovely teacher, insightful man, back at Guildhall. “The worse it gets the more you smile,” he said once. It’s a coping strategy, to drive hard towards the positive, to give the appearance of comfort. But it’s not necessarily helpful when you’re coming into a room full of bodies.
I haven’t been called so much this week but I’m thinking I might start coming in anyway because the game changes fast, and it’s useful having bodies around for the process. Besides, what else am I gonna do, admin? Not when there’s a fecund and interesting room to be in just fifteen minutes from home. I’ve seen some lovely work from others, and bits of my work have rung out. It’s a long play. Loads happens before my main character arrives, so I’m gonna benefit from soaking up the energy of it all going forward, as long as I’m welcome.
Right now though a weekend is wanted to recover from this change of seasons cold. I think sleep is one of the things you’re supposed to do when you’re not well, so the fact it’s half midnight isn’t working in my favour. Bath is run though. Brian is shooting people in the living room. I’ve been playing a game set in Venice in the late 1500’s. I can call it mood research… But rest is more important. You can lose track of time playing those silly things… But some of them, like this one, are extremely well plotted and thought through.
AlBarclay 