No escaping the reality of the play now. There I was, waiting for Richard Bean's Up On Roof to start, when a bloke sat next to me started talking to his wife about buying tickets for Sully and showing her the page in the new season brochure. Very frightening. The brochure looks lovely but, as I said to a press officer before snatching a free interval drink, I'm now shitting myself. I guess this a natural reaction when you're still re-drafting and agonising over something that people are already buying tickets for. They're looking forward to a good night out, I'm trying my best not to ruin it for them.
Mad woman in the post office. "I'm scared of balloons." I smiled nervously but then I looked around and there was, indeed, and for no particular good reason, several balloons hanging above the counter. She dropped £5 on the floor. I stooped to pick it up and handed it back. "Thanks for your honesty. I hate the stuff." "What, money?" "Yes, money. I'd burn it all if I could. I like being skint, it's easier." Her number came up and she cowered and shook towards the counter, telling the woman behind the glass about her fear of balloons before parting with all of her money and heading into an easier, cash and balloon-free life.
Listening: Mystery Jets - Making Dens, The Fratellis - Creepin' Up The Backstairs
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