Fringe day, Who Knows?
Today is Friday; it is 2am...I think? I am not so sure to be honest. The Edinburgh Fringe is a bit like a scary time vortex, I no longer know where or who I am.
I appeared on the famous BBC Radio 4 show ‘Just a Minute'. This show is so huge and wonderful I was so scared I would fuck it up and have to be thrown into the nearest wheelie bin for my lack of talking skills....but I think it went just fine.
Yesterday I hit that wall of tiredness that those signs over motorways warn you about; luckily I wasn't driving a car.
I was about to perform my play and my brain actually froze dead.
I was standing backstage behind the black curtain waiting to go on and do the whole 55 minutes of this play, all the words are mine all the actions are mine and I know it inside out- yet my brain started to play re-runs of Little House on the Prairie for no apparent fucking reason!
My thought pattern was completely disjointed and my heart started racing...FUCK FUCK...my head screamed to me...as soon as I stepped into the light, every single word came flooding into my soul. It was like my brain was fucking with me, it was teasing me and waiting to see how long it could scare me! I really don't need my own brain sabotaging my career....I suppose I was just over tired, but it actually was one of the best performances I feel I had.
There is a scene in the play where I play an addict who is trying to apologise to her dead mother and at that moment when I imagined my own murdered mothers coffin, my eyes filled up and my throat tightened and I actually thought I was going to fall apart on stage, but it felt strangely powerful and pertinent in that instant and I used it to carry the dialogue through the scene.
I loved the show today- despite the exhaustion.
I then ran up into the old Town and got to the Underbelly and went into the Sketch show with Ashley, it is so entertaining to do that show and not really tiring for me, as it does feel like too much fun.
Blog Live! Is on at 8-10pm and I had a lovely house and a great time. Although by then I was kinda worn out, it is exactly half way through the festival and I just love it.
Ashley went home today to sit an exam at University and made it back in time for the show, she is a fucking trooper.
Husband has gone home to Glasgow for a break from the mad ‘Travelling Gypsy Jester' family that we have become.
He really doesn't enjoy all the ups and downs that go with being a performer or their partner; he hates the adrenaline rush, the worry and the fear of failure that seems to push us Godley/Storrie girls to the limit.
I am sure if he had his way I would dressed in a gingham apron, hair in a tight bun and making flans and Ashley would be five years old forever, with her hair in pigtails wearing angel wings and inviting everyone in the block to the funeral of dead goldfish!
That aint gonna happen...I can't bake and she has discovered high heeled boots and boys.
Poor husband, he told me last week that we had now been married for 25 years- Eight months and 14 days; I looked at him and said
"Ok Shawshank who is counting? Have you hammered an escape hole in the bedroom wall with a fucking toffee hammer?"
One day I will get very old and stop travelling, stop comedy, stop being me and settle down to a life of crossword puzzles and slippers. Not yet.
