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Wet Wet Wet.


In classic me fashion, I managed to leave the house to go for a walk mere moments before today’s mini-monsoon hit.

It was worse than that in actuality; I lined up my one trip out - save a late-morning forage for lunch at the local M&S garage - in time to be hit by the full force of the rain whilst at the top of the highest hill in town with just enough wind in the air (do you get wind in the air? Isn’t wind just air?) to completely soak my weedy jacketless frame; this was about as ‘Ephgrave’ as things could get.

I went out because I’d gone a little stir-crazy. I’d spent much of the day trying to sort a few clerical issues (not in a church sense) that led to me spending more time on the phone than is healthy, particularly when constantly being passed from pillar to post; I ended up not even getting things sorted, despite being exposed to more than my fair share of hold music (which in the case of North Herts District Council is sprinkled liberally with slap bass).

I still managed to get a bit of work done for Edinburgh, though not as much as I would have liked. I wrote a short piece that will hopefully end the show (though I can’t say too much about that yet) and did a little admin, but didn’t spend any time rehearsing, which was frustrating. I need to knuckle down tomorrow and Thursday, though I’m squeezing in a radio interview with a station in Fife tomorrow lunchtime. Over the phone, obviously; a seven-hour car journey for bit of airtime would be a step too far.
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