5am.
I’m supposed to be out of here at ten.
Turns out I’m the party house. I kinda knew it might happen. It comes with being easy going. Although nobody in this company hated anyone else, it has been a truly lovely bunch.
Largely I think that the fact I was trying to sort out the bundle led to it being my place that was hosting last night drinks.
I pulled out Shining Avon The Green Eyed Kiss round about the end of the show. I had to give back my pass so needed to get into the understage first. Carried them up just slung over my shoulder.
The bundle is a magic thing. We all made it, many of us were there to see it sunk. It lives in an extremely rich world of “yes but what if”. When it was made the voices told us it would draw rats and it would stink. It never stank and of course no rats. It desiccated very quickly. Jules and Fin and myself moved it during the show that was stopped by an audience panic attack. It was always supposed to be under us. We all felt pulled up when it was in The Ashcroft Room. We made sure it was pulling down and had no more issues thereafter.
Rhys is asleep on my sofa bed. He’s a dad of two, Minnie’s husband, and has plugged in a day early for Twelfth Night just so he can see what we’ve made. I adore him. The perfect companion for our final night. He thoroughly got it. Tonight, so many of the cast were here, making it all make sense, we band of brothers…
We sang to the bundle as we moved it. Then we got John to cast it into the Avon. A swan was momentarily curious in case it was a new swan, this big weird white thing. It very quickly just became a mess of ideas, and the swan could tell almost immediately that it was irrelevant. It has sunk now. These ideas and thoughts will rest on the river bed.
I enjoyed being music master. I used a chain gang song, adapted. “Soon I will be done with the troubles of the world going home to live with God.” Adjusted lyrics for the bundle, took out God, brought in river. It fitted.
We are done. I haven’t processed it yet and won’t when my clock says 5:31 and I’m only about three quarters packed for a ten o’clock exit. I’m relying on them knowing we won’t all make the deadline.
Still. Alarm set for 9:15. That’s not early.
And Rhys will carry the torch. Fire! We go on and on. I adore the fact he’s here, passing out mid tarot reading, living the dream.
AlBarclay 