Home. It’s the place I like to be most in the whole world. Over the last twenty or so years (intensified over the last two years) we’ve made our dinky little terraced house into the most comforting burrow you could want to dig down into and evade the world. Coming home to it, and the two ridiculously cute cats within, is one of the best things I know. I didn’t manage to write an entry yesterday for a variety of reasons, all related to bad planning – ours and others’. My aim to was to do a spot of writing on a nice train, but that opportunity never came to pass…
We had a delightful show of It’s A Trap! The Improvised Star Wars Show in Brighton, in a goddamn geodesic dome, which could not be more Star Wars if it tried. Considering that Brighton is the other end of the country from us, we don’t really know a lot of folk there and the temporary structure / DPD failed to deliver our flyers, we sold a whopping ninetyish tickets and filled the place up. Although I felt like I was wading through mud earlier in the day, meeting up with most of the rest of the team in the light drizzle for theatre get-in at one really turned it all around. We then spent the afternoon together, eating, flyering, LEGO shopping… until we were at last joined by our final member and had fifteen minutes to sort our nonsense out and do the show. I had somewhat forgotten the transformative power of being with people I adore. I shouldn’t have – that was last weekend too – but I tend to focus on the social brain burn that occurs after a while, and forget about the sheer joy of being amongst people with whom I have no doubts or reservations.
We had a grand old show – silly show, stupid show, funny show – set just after Empire Strikes Back with Luke and Leia dispatched to ruined Kamino by Mon Mothma to retrieve the credit card that all the Rebel Alliance purchases have been made on. Meanwhile, Boba Fett attempts to deliver the carbonite-frozen Han Solo to Jabba’s palace, but the crimelord’s protocol droisd, J34 diverts him from Jabba’s lack of credit and, upon bonding over their variously terrible lives, Boba agrees to train J34 to be a bounty hunter. Inevitably, they head to Kamino to complete the Rebel Alliance bounty set. Deep in the Kaminoan oceans, the long-necked camel-whales of the Kaminoans are busy making endless cloned copies of that same credit card… Also in the depths, a pair of renegade Sith who have been sulking since before Palpatine began his grand plan (Darth Monocle and Darth Guy) decide it is time to end their two and half centuries dwelling within a submarine, casting their seed into the oceans… Yes, the audience became a mass of Sith jizz-fish and worse. It was a lot of fun, and well received by both the folks running the Rotunda Dome (thank you Michelle and Ross!) and the audience, several of whom we found ourselves in a pub with a few minutes later (the Hole in the Wall). All excellent ego-boosting complimentary stuff and reassuring for a cast that doesn’t actually get much time in rehearsal due to be rather scattered and too busy. It was also a real treat to see the handful of people I know in Brighton, some of whom even came to the show!
So that was all great. A fine bounce back from a cack night’s sleep, a show that will pay for its own expenses and made worthwhile by the unstoppable grins, and a very pleasant longer weekend away for me and M. We fucked that up slightly the next day… While we knew one train had been cancelled and I’d found a replacement, as far as I knew the night before the last leg from London to Notts was miraculously still OK (the spoiler is inevitable). So we had a lovely slow morning tidying up, finding nice artisanal croissants (we stayed in Seven Dials at this great room) and getting out at the very reasonable eleven o’clock. Off then for proper shopping – we hit up the rest of the book shops and charity shops we’d been unable to get into late on Thursday, the lovely little market, a micropub, had to pick up an extra bag to carry the books we found… Oh, and went back to the LEGO shop, obviously.
Made it to the train, made it to London, negotiated the tube (I truly forget the depth of loathing that London inspires in me – it’s been a couple of years) and discovered our train was no longer running. Absolute motherfuckery. Frantic Googling ensued. And then a race back across the tube to where we’d just come from so we could hardwalk up to Victoria Coach Station for an absolute wanker of a bus to Nottingham. The gentle three hour and bit journey seamlessly extended into a six and a half hours, complete with noisy, reeking, stabbable teenagers (and their fuckwit grandma from Bilborough) and a similarly stinking toilet. It was not the journey we’d hoped for. Despite that, we were heading home (aka, the best place in the world, replete with furmadillos), the sunset was stunning and I finished a book once we were on the motorway and I no longer wanted to vomit over the nice lady beside me (not M, this was a stranger). After following a baffling route into Nottingham via Clifton, we missed our next tram and sat enraged awaiting the next. And at last, home. Found Pixie in the library, sweet and meowing and adorable; located the Womble roaming outside, though he initially declined to come inside as usual; tea, cheese on toast; root through acquisitions, read book, sleep.
After a decent lie-in, busted up only to let the noisy beasts out, I feel enormously refreshed by returning to the exercise and mental health scribbling routine. Despite the stuff that went wrong, I determined to only remember all the fun we had poking around Brighton.
Tonight I’m properly back to dropping the sleeping tablets altogether, after stretching out the lowest possible dose for an extra week (plus grabbing an additional to make sure I slept occasionally). Should be interesting…