Back on it

The drugs did their stuff: sloshing bright pink mouthwash and gobbling even brighter pink ibuprofen tablets, I recovered the powers of speech and eating, although I was still sore enough to be grumpy all morning at work. I was stressed about being too tired to rehearse last night, stressed about work, and stressed about being stressed and thinking that would lead to a poor time on stage tonight.

But thankfully, it all came together: a few run-throughs of my set tonight*, where even now little tweaks suggest themselves, and then the glorious crowd were very, very responsive. I think I got a bigger laugh than I've ever had at Masala tonight (although I have to check my recording to be sure it wasn't just the echo of my ego).

I'm exhausted now though, and it's late late late. Or it's late for me, rather; back in Hong Kong we'd be thinking about putting on a film about now, but with my wife's early starts and my further adventures in running, late nights are a rarity these days.

* In between reading Lovecraftian horror - nobody can accuse me of being focussed while I rehearse.