With what little fingernails I have, I’ve managed to unblock the click-square on my computer and bend it upwards so that it clicks again. HALLELUJAH I skipped for joy as the little arrow went racing across my screen in exactly the direction I sent it, and HIP HIP HOORAH I could click on things again. I am such a drama queen; yesterday evening it was the end of the world as I know it as I was convinced my computer was irreparable… this morning, thanks to a mixture of determination and desperation, I manage to get it working again. And it only took a bit of tweaking and bending. It’s rather embarrassing that I cried wolf that loud. Maybe I shall delete yesterday’s entry. No – I can bear whatever mockery and criticism comes my way, proud in the knowledge that I fixed my own crumpled computer without a male person within fifty metres of the house.
However, I don’t know how long this bodge-job is going to last and I keep re-bending the click-square (now I’m looking at it properly I see it’s actually a rectangle) – erm, the clicktangle – upwards, as I can feel it sinking down as I use it. We’ll see whether things hold out. If they don’t I shall be forced to beg, steal or borrow a computer, as I now realise I’m addicted to writing this blog malarky.
I’m obsessed. I LOVE writing and don’t want to stop now. I enjoy the writing in itself but I also get a kick out of imagining my regular readers checking in every day. Which reminds me, I must give a mention to A-Cousin (that’s like the A-team because she is indeed a crack commando soldier of fortune, fighting a daily battle for the good of mankind by bringing up three under-five-year-olds on her own, while her husband is away being a real soldier) for being another pillar of support.
I was thinking about A-Cousin today and imagining I’d next see her in the summer when she comes for her yearly family holiday by the lake Paladru, and suddenly I realised I wouldn’t have much to say about my life as she would have been following it closely day by day. And this goes for a number of my family members. We’ll greet each other, have a hug, start telling each other our news and whenever I open my mouth, they’ll say “Yes, I know”. I can sit back and let them do the talking while I finish off the tea and cake.
I’ll be able to test this theory out in a week or so when I go to London to present a little hoo-ha in the Little Angel Theatre. I’ll be staying with Sister One who has read every word I’ve written for the past 6 weeks (has it really been six weeks?!) and it will be a challenge to find something interesting to tell her that she doesn’t already know about. I say interesting as humdrum things don’t count – telling her I bought a second-hand hoover through the small ads, or that I found a stash of dog biscuits behind the dishwasher may win the bet that she doesn’t know about something in my life but it won’t raise an eyebrow or open up a conversation. Unless I mention that the seller of the hoover was INCREDIBLY sexy and said “Well, maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime soon” as he lingeringly placed the attachment nozzles in my hand. I don’t think he realised I could probably be his mother. At a push.
Well, I’m not sure that repairing my computer was worth anyone’s while, as tonight’s entry is merely stream-of-consciousness tosh (“Worth your while” – what a strange phrase). And this is a shame, as tomorrow I start a residency here at the circus centre La Cascade, with my friend from Paris and a director who’s flying over from London (just to make the project sound very important) and the writer of the book (ooh even more important), so I’m not going to have the luxurious writing time that I’ve had for the past few weeks.
We’re working on a stage version of a childrens’ book, using puppets and ourselves acting and various bits and bobs pulled out of the cellar and found in the boot of my car. The idea is to present whatever we end up with after a week of working together, at the Little Angel Theatre, late February, in the hope that the Arts Council will come and watch and give us a suitcase full of hard cash with which we’ll create the show properly and perform it next year. That’s the plan. I DREAM of doing a show in England, in English, that my son, nephews, nieces and cousins-once-removed (I think that’s what I mean … A-Cousin, could you correct me if I’m wrong?) can come and see. Once upon a time my acting career dreams involved Spielberg and Brad Pitt and audiences of millions… now they involve all the under-eights in my family and a theatre with a seating limit of seventy.
Anyway, all that to say I might be a bit absent for a week but it’s all in a good cause. Sleep in peace knowing that I’ll be back soon, probably sooner than I think.