Well... this is it. There is absolutely no turning back now - I am out the door to do the first show of Ink. Blimey guv'nor it is nerve racking let me tell 'e. To hell with what people think of the show - it's my show, I didn't ask people to see it (well, that's not strictly true if they're somebody I flyered, but I certainly didn't force people to see it). Quite frankly they can all bog off if they don't like it. They can go and see some truly searching physical theatre if they have a problem with our fast paced dialogue and focus on people without melodrama.
Our house is slowly beginning to take shape as a house now which is a lovely feeling - I think we owe it to the plug in air freshener we just bought which is covering the slightly fausty reek of something that may or may not be dead or dying behind the washing machine. Our house consists of 4 of the cast of Ink;
Me (slightly tetchy so far and trying desperately to throw away people's flyers before we end up with a flat that is difficult to walk in without paper cutting your toes off).
The Swede (a beautiful young lady who claims to be Swedish but has olive skin, deep brown eyes and a bushy mane of brunette hair - I am currently sharing a room with her which is not helping with feeling secure about my body being a proper shape. I've taken to putting my pyjamas on in the wardrobe so I don't have to stare wildly at her legs while I'm folding my knee skin into some skinny jeans).
Birdie (a man who is marching us all down to see some swans very early on Wednesday morning. The Swede and I are quite petrified of swans so we're not being as nice to Birdie as we could be. Enough about him until we've survived the dawn swan raid and then I'll give him a proper character assassination).
Music Man (this is our final housemate who knows the words, guitar part and trumpet solo (even if there isn't one) to any song recorded pre 1995. He can sing in the morning, in the evening, walking around - he can even sing one song whilst listening to another. He's delightful. Turns out he also sings in the shower which makes sitting in the lounge for the morning cup of tea rather brilliant).
Having had a lot of responsibility thus far into the Fringe, I have barely been drunk at all - obviously quite different from last year where by this point I had yet to be sober. Last night I got well on my way to merry town for the first time and all of a sudden things started sliding into place and feeling a lot more like we were in Edinburgh... it's honestly not that I have a drinking problem; it's that Edinburgh has a sobriety problem and I strongly believe that "When in Rome..."
Absolutely anything could be happening in the rest of the world at the moment and I wouldn't have a clue... I've not looked at the papers (except the ones I've been hastily gluing together on our living room floor, meaning my fingers are now a slightly grey, gluey colour) and I've not seen hide nor hair of a television since last week... I really hope things are going alright for everybody that's not living knee deep in narcissism and ego stroking. I wonder if, actually, the world progresses at a much faster rate during August when everybody who doesn't really have a proper joke has wandered off and stopped distracting everybody else. A bit like doing the vaccuuming when your housemates have gone to the pub.
"The comedians have gone."
"Shall we sort the recession before they get back?"
"Yeah, could do. We've got 3 weeks."
"Cool, well I'll just finish this cup of tea and then we'll get on."
I think this is a wild overestimation of how much our hilarity distracts the rest of the public but I think just for today I'm allowed to live firmly placed in my own rectum. My ongoing nightmare for the past 3 months is that someone will come and review the show and give me my very own Bridget Jones scenario and say;
"This play is ridiculous. The whole idea is bananas. What on earth were you thinking?"
As long as one audience comes to see it and doesn't do that then I'll know that it's just down to personal taste... there's a lot riding on today. Hell, if all goes to pot at least we have an air freshener and a house that can simultaneously sing, seduce and wow a pile of swans.