Thursday, May 26, 2005

Wake up to find the water supply just isn't there. Think, as I stand at sink twiddling taps in nothing more than my boxers, that maybe we've been cut off. But then reason that they can't just cut you off without at least having the decency to knock and let you know. Besides, we've paid the bill. Having turning taps on, off, felt around for the stop-cock, turned taps on and off again, scratched head, ironed shirt, checked for spare drops of water in pans and kettle, make executive decision to travel to mothers, which is not on the way to work at all, to use her H2O. En route it's announced on radio that someone pierced the water main, half the town is sans-water and that 'technicians' are attempting to solve the problem. But the town has spiralled into chaos - two schools have closed for the day, posh people are ranting that they feel 'dirty', there are fears that tourism will be badly hit, people have been seen bathing in puddles. It's all gone a bit third world.

A night at the was ok, don't think the characters were eccentric enough to make it work to full effect. There were a lot of obnoxious people in, many of them critics, most of them giving off vibes that they were the most important person in. They were wrong. After all, I was there. Spoke briefly to Marcus Romer, Pilot Theatre's head honcho. I nearly fell over him as, in the time it took a man to get a glass of orange juice from the drinks table, he had crouched on the floor to tie the laces of his fashionable leisure footwear. That excitement aside the night was something of a chore. Now looking forward to The Rakes on Saturday night.

Listening (again): British Sea Power - Open Season.

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