I listened to
this evening’s In Your Inner Ear when it went out, so I could tweet the
relevant pictures along with it, as per usual.
I laughed quite a lot at the content, which is always a good sign. I sometimes got a little annoyed by my tone, but I guess there’s nothing new here; everybody suffers from the old ‘not liking hearing a recording of their own voice’ syndrome from time to time, though as a performer, you get over it pretty quickly, otherwise you’d never do anything. Seeing and hearing yourself goes with the territory (unless you’re Roger Daltrey in Tommy, that is; *rock opera reference*).
I laughed quite a lot at the content, which is always a good sign. I sometimes got a little annoyed by my tone, but I guess there’s nothing new here; everybody suffers from the old ‘not liking hearing a recording of their own voice’ syndrome from time to time, though as a performer, you get over it pretty quickly, otherwise you’d never do anything. Seeing and hearing yourself goes with the territory (unless you’re Roger Daltrey in Tommy, that is; *rock opera reference*).
Today was also one of those few occasions in my life when I felt the urge to catch up on some housework. First off, my budgies’ cage has needed cleaning out for an embarrassingly long time; so much so, it had got to the point where I could barely see the birds for the pile of birdseed shells. I also took out the recycling and the food bin and vacuumed my flat. That’s possibly the dullest sentence I’ve ever written, but it describes the makings of a tidier household, I can tell you.
Prior to all of this housework activity, I popped into the office for an hour or so, to run through some of the material I’d been working on this week. I made a point of not hanging about, as I’ve spent far too much time there on my own lately, which has made me a little cabin-feverish. Time seems to disappear rapidly when I’m in there, so it’s good to escape before another day flies by. The only setback today was that nothing seemed funny, though this was probably just the mood I was in, rather than an accurate reading of the content. I’m my own worst critic and, like with the radio show, I sometimes tire of my own voice. Hopefully things will look better tomorrow on fresh ears. I hope so, otherwise I’ll have to employ a ghostwriter for my forthcoming shows; I hear Ewan McGregor’s pretty good it, apparently, considering what he did for Pierce Brosnan. There’s nothing like an obscure reference to a Roman Polanski-directed film of a Robert Harris novel to round off a blog-post.