Headcold and quite low. Black dog barking in the distance. But work continues to be fascinating, and the boys and B are in excellent fettle. So what's ado?
It may be the weather, and some sort of body memory thing. My Dad died in the August 2003 heatwave and it seems whenever the mercury climbs above 25 I'm vulnerable to these after-shocks. I was pretty prone to instability at the time in any case, dying parent notwithstanding. It was a terrible time for me and it had a knock-on for anyone about me.
Cheering about the Market Boy reviews though, innit. I'm going back to see it soon. Meantime I've been asked to write the last show in the Southwark space, something on quite a large scale, but for a short (week-long) run. It's a pleasure and an honour to be asked, and I'm going to get stuck in to that just as soon as I've got my bearings on The May Queen.