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Pressing in the Garden.


I’ve spent the afternoon sending out press releases for next month’s two-night Camden Fringe run of ‘…and Ephgrave’.

Contrary to how it usually is, it didn’t take that long. Most of the work was done in preparation for Brighton. I’m glad it wasn’t too involved. The more I send press releases out for shows, the less enthused I am about it. It feels a little bit like pissing in the wind (which isn't a Bob Dylan working title). You never know if your email will be read, bypassed or simply deleted. Self-produced shows have little clout and are very hard to market; let’s face it, I barely know who I am myself.

The fact I sent the emails from the great outdoors helped take the sting off. By ‘great outdoors’ I mean ‘my mum’s garden’. She flies back from Greece today (she wasn’t playing a part in the E.U deal) – and I’m essentially dog-and-cat-sitting until she lands. It’s a lovely sunny evening, and not the time to be staring at a computer screen, so I’ll keep today’s blog post brief.

See you tomorrow, folks. Stay lucky.

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