I Don't Practise Banter Here

So the lazy days came to a shattering halt this morning as I squeezed myself out of the door to go and start setting up the Glassblower for next week's shows. Having looked at the room properly with everything in place I am convinced it's an excellent venue for previews - which is probably a good thing given that we're about to stage 23 of them over the next 4 weeks. Hurrah. It's a little bit like gigging in Oscar Wilde's living room in my opinion - what can go wrong?


Tomorrow I've been offered some work at a well known fashion outlet. Whilst I'm thrilled about having something to do in the daylight hours, there are two things I'm not so thrilled about:

1. Technically I'm not starting the job in the daylight hours. I am starting at 6am. Who the hell needs well known fashion at 6am? I'm juts not sure a pair of jeans has ever been so desired that it requires the staff to be awake at ridiculous o'clock. Thank heavens it's only two days or I think the phrase burning the candle at both ends would barely cut it.

2. I don't want to work in a well known fashion outlet. I am not fashionable - I like jeans and I like t-shirts. Occasionally I will wear a dress if I'm feeling particularly spangly. I am already nervous about the prospect of trying to assist people politely when they're seriously considering whether something containing more sequins than cotton.


Yesterday I had a brilliant day catching up with a good friend from the comedy world - between several cups of tea and a march around London trying to track down some fudge to satisfy my craving, we caught up on all my harebrained schemes for being hilarious and he managed to convince me yet again that it was exciting not terrifying. As much as I'm a miserable bitch realist, it is nice to have at least one friend who is just permanently convince you're always going to make it. When there's more than one of you - it seems more likely that things will work out and you feel like less of a crazy person. I'm going to need that at 5:45am tomorrow when I'm on a train to go and help people decide which shade of skinny jeans makes them look most like Peaches Geldof.