Tuesday, 18 October 2016

Back to London

I am definitely suffering from a general lack of sleep. My voice is distinctly baritonal this morning and I have a little tickle at the back of my throat which is plainly my body giving me a warning...

The days are melding into one. In a few days time, when I'm asked what happened when, I'll probably not be able to answer. Rolling about in the background is a feeling of absolute, desperate sadness for Llio and her Mum, Silvia who lost their wonderful Andras on Sunday. Because they've both gone public with the news on Facebook, I'm able to say that this was the reason for our middle of the night dash to Cardiff on Sunday. Relaying the details of the trip here would feel mawkish and intrusive. Suffice to say it was devastating, brutal and surreal. And my thoughts are permanently with them both. That's all I want to say.

We stayed in a Travelodge on Atlantic Wharf and departed for London after breakfast, feeling awful that we were somehow driving away from the horror that Llio and Silvia were still in the thick of. I drove. The roads were smooth. We saw a rainbow. The traffic was snarled up where the M40 meets the North Circular. Always the way. You do an epic journey and let your guard down because you're nearly home, and then, bang, the traffic punishes you. I got home, had a bath, had some food and had a cry.

We both had appointments in the afternoon. I was meeting Rosie to go through our song for the new writers' cabaret last night and Nathan was due to drive to Fulham and then on to Liverpool where he'll be staying for the week to do some work.

The cabaret went well. I was somewhat spaced out: a combination of exhaustion and emotional overwroughtness (if that's even a word.) I forgot the notes I was meant to be playing at one point, and couldn't find any flow to what I was doing, which brought on the nerves, but the song went down a storm. Rosie sang beautifully and charmed the room. The other songs were great as well, including one from a pair of young girls from Northern Ireland, which showed a huge amount of authenticity and promise. I get a bit of a bee in my bonnet sometimes about length. Musical theatre songs need to keep charging to hold the interest of an audience and a song often goes from bad to good when two minutes are cut from its length.

We hung about at Shuttleworths afterwards, eating pizza, drinking and chatting. Eamonn O'Dwyer appeared. It was good to see him.

Rosie stayed over and slept in the sitting room. And here we are. She's left for work. I'm home alone for the first time in what seems like an age. I shan't be doing much today.

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