My mind's not in this room...

As tempting as it would have been to simply remain in rehearsals, I said my goodbyes on Saturday and, yes, there were hugs and handshakes. I was interviewed about the play yesterday by a couple of local newspapers, both interviewers former colleagues of mine. The usual incoherent babbling from me, I think. The first interview was a face-to-face experience in the pub (ah, home territory!) where I got so caught up in trying to say something quotable that I failed to eat the chilli con carne lunch I'd purchased (but I did manage the lager, which probably says a lot). The second was a mere phoner and, with one chat with a journalist under my belt, at least I had something to draw on. I look forward to reading what they've made of the nonsense that I spew out. So I'm back in the office, earning money to service my writer's many and varied debts. Strange to think that just a few miles away a room is inhabited by a bunch of people getting to grips with words I wrote. I'm going back on Friday to see what miracles they've performed thus far, and really looking forward to it. In fact, that's what's keeping me going. By press night I imagine I'll be on the verge of exploding.