Neither have I slipped into another dimension by accidentally treading in a huge slippy puddle of Durex Play (although it is buy-one-get-one-free in Superduperdrug at the moment!). I have no exciting, tragic or noteworthy excuse for my absence.
Its just a huge pile of busy-ness crept up, sat on my head and farted�..oh no, hang on, that was my brother.
Well anyway. Rehearsals have stepped up a gear as the show opens next Tuesday, so most nights Ive been out treading the boards. I do actually know my lines now, and in what order they appear (which is always useful). I have one or two teensy little problems with the stage kissing. Not in the way that you�d imagine, in that kissing two relative strangers would seem awkward or embarrassing, but rather that once Ive actually done the kissing, I cant remember what Im supposed to say next. Both men I have to kiss are reasonably attractive in a "middle-aged roue" and "too young for me but very enthusiastic" way, respectively. Personally I think Im letting art imitate life somewhat here. Kissing�s great, isnt it? Im often rendered speechless by BF kissing me. When I was talking about this little problem to BF he pondered whether kissing me would be a good way to shut me up if I was blathering on, and I had to admit it would work. Im actually struggling to think where this paragraph might be going now as Im thinking about kissing and how lovely it is.
No matter.
Had a couple of days off work last week�no!�the week BEFORE! Holy shit it�s a long time since I updated! Can barely remember what I did, its so long ago, but I do know that Jooj and I went shopping and did girly stuff and it was all cool. After that it�s a bit of a blur.
Monday I had to go to look at some venues which we�re considering for a company celebration. Not too much of a trauma except that they were in Birmingham and Kempton Park respectively. Not exactly a two-minute trip from Chigley, lemme tellya. By the time I got home, Id done 310 miles. The company pays expenses as I had to use my own car, and at 35p/mile its quite a nice little earner, but even so�Three hundred and ten miles! There�s just no need. And I was rehearsing in the evening.
There�s also been the small matter of many and several house-guests to contend with. The whole of last week we had BrummieDrummer (remember him? Click back to the party photos) staying with us, as he was in the orchestra for the touring production of Fame which is doing the rounds of the provinces at the moment. He�s a low-maintenance guest but he doesn�t get back from the show until 10.45 ish and then he wants to party � like anyone does who�s just finished a days work and is returning to a hotel where the drinks are free, the host works in your industry and the hostess worries about you if you haven�t had any supper and insists on cooking you something the second you get in the front door. Every twenty seconds throughout the week he said *adopts voice of Pig in Pipkins* "Oi loov stae�in �ere, these is grrraYt digs, these is".
On Tuesday night � instead of the early night we�d originally planned - we partied in grand style. Wednesday morning I got up for work feeling like a great big pile of shiny shite. On a stick. My face was ashen-grey, as corpse-like I shuffled to the bathroom, waves of nausea lapped at the shores of my guts and someone was repeatedly whapping me around the back of the head with a paving slab. The kids wanted CocoP0ps but the sound of them pouring into their breakfast bowls was I-fucking-DENT-ical to the sound of a gravel lorry emptying its load. Onto a tin roof.
I tried to make some coffee but the smell of coffee grounds had me hanging onto the sides of the sink and panting in a musntpukemustntpukemustntpuke way. I was clearly suffering from some rare tropical disease from which I was evidently about to expire. Either that or I had a hangover.
In the bathroom, the mirror had been replaced by a life size picture of Paula Yates. Again. She looked fucking rough, I can tell yer. And she was wearing my dressing gown. Sneaked back into my bedroom and decided to have a teeny cuddle with the still sleeping BF.
Baby, I feel fucking ROUGH
*grunt*
I�m so hung over Im going to diiiiiiiiiiie. Give me a cuddle
*grunt* (stretches out arms and pulls me towards him)
I shouldn�t fucking well drink so much. I feel shitty. What the FUCK were we THINKING of? We didn�t even get to shag!
*eyes snap open* Uh. Yeh we did.
DID WE??????
*eyes close again* Yeh-huh
Later in the day, a number of vivid and cringe-making flashbacks filled in SOME of the gaps, but today, a WEEK LATER, I am ashamed to say that I still do not have total recall.
The hangover lasted two whole days, during which I was rendered unable to drink anything other than water and peppermint tea�which was just as well as there wasn�t very much whisky left.
Thursday afternoon my lovely new boss (slightly sexy in a boyish way and such Such SUCH fun to wind up about stuff to do with �toilet parts�) handed his notice in. He�s been in the job less than three months, such is the power of Twat Inc. I�m gutted. And back to square one as far as my job is concerned.
Fuckit.
Partied a bit more on Friday night but actually didn�t feel too bad on Saturday morning, considering Id finished off the bottle of scotch, smoked some most excellent weed and stayed up til stupid o�clock chatting and eating crackers-and-cheese. And pickled onions. And Pringles. And cherry brandy liqueur chocolates. And some kind of marzipan thingys left over from Christmas. BF had a huge sandwich of piccalilli and cheese which had, like, a whole jar of piccalilli in it. What a man.
Saturday morning I went out and did the grocery shopping before everyone else was up, then came back and did tie-dye t-shirts with Jooj and Treacle for a bit. When the littledrummerboy had gone, stripped his bed and remade it in readiness for our dear friends Tom and Tam to arrive. They�ve been in the area for a couple of days as Tom�s been recording a new album but had managed to find enough money for a hotel for the first couple of nights.
When they arrived, Tom was wearing a most fetching vintage brown bowler hat in honour of the visit. That he was wearing it with a zip-top and combats mattered not, he still looked unspeakably cool. We all tried it on. I looked a bit Cabaret-ish. BF looked a bit of a cunt.
Tam told us how their hotel had been a nightmare. They�d been moved rooms four times and in the final room � when they just couldn�t face moving any more � they sat on the bed and the leg collapsed. They propped it up with the Gideons bible and slept soundly on the word of the lord. Amen to that.
Cooked a simple dinner of chicken, new potatoes and roasted vegetables. Made a giant strawberry tart (a picture of same got sent by phone to Smash once we�d all got stoned) and ate the lot, all the while discussing the sort of random topics that come up under those sort of circumstances. Tam�s considering producing a puppet show of the A-Team but based in Wales. If you can do a Welsh accent, I challenge you to say "I�m BA BarRACus and I aint GETting� on no plane" without laughing. Or perhaps "I love it when a pllllan comes toGETHer" Hee hee hee. Well, you had to be there. In the morning I was off to rehearsals before everyone else got up and when I got back Tom and Tam had gone � to do the final mix of Tom�s album and to have lunch with his brother who�d been helping with the engineering. BF said they�d said they might pop in again "at tea time" before driving home to Penzance (four/five hour drive). They turned up at 10. We drank, we ate, we played around with some guitars. Tam sent me a text this afternoon to say they�d got home at 5. *shudder*
And that�s about it, really. Oh, I nearly forgot. Shagnasty is being a total cocksucker about BF taking the girls to the pub � he says he doesn�t want them to "grow up thinking that�s normal".
Oh, and we exchanged contracts on BF�s millstone house today so we will be finally shot of it on 23rd Feb. Just five years and three months after his bitch-of-a-wife walked out on him, went to Social Services and began her steady dismantling of his reputation, self-esteem, bank account, health, relationship with his children and general well-being. I hope its been worth every penny of the 70% of proceeds of sale that she�s going to get, the evil witch.
Not that Im bitter.
Later
S
X
PS You Know Who � did you get the email? Did it work? (not you, Stuart�although, the same questions DO apply!)