Today looked something like:
Emails. Lots of emails.
Speak to Charlie. The final role is cast!
Also – we still have lots of rubbish outside of our shop.
Third phonecall of the morning from Charlie. There is DRILLING in the next shop. This is due to last ALL week.
Call Market Manager and leave convoluted message of panic on his phone.
Phone Market Manager back and remember to leave phone number this time.
Call Space Makers Agency and leave message that is mildly less hysterical.
Stop emailing as am too fidgety about DRLLING. Thus go to Brixton early.
Sit self in Market Manager’s office until have assurances that that DRLLING will not go on during our performances.
We still have rubbish outside our shop.
But the shop IS painted.
Go back to Market Manager’s office and as he is not in leave note on the door requesting rubbish is moved before we open tomorrow.
Apologise on note for being a pain.
Go to cafe where Charlie is. Buy latte and hope that will be enough for staying there for five hours.
Write more blurb.
There is debate as to how all of the props that are currently in Deptford are going to get to Brixton.
Invite what seems like all of Lambeth Council to show.
A knight in shining armour (or a car) offers to transport props and set.
Charlie offers to snog him.
Talk to lovely Julia from Space Makers about DRILLING.
Have FOH signage talk with Charlie.
Decide that she is beautiful, she is barefoot by Christopher Bailey needs its own wall of signage. And this is after we’ve cut out the nudity.
Someone from IdeasTap wants to interview us about theatre in empty shops. Oooh.
Write up programme/ flyer for Wednesday.
There is furniture in Streatham that needs to be in Brixton. Realise that it has to be moved TONIGHT.
Dump things in shop and get bus to Streatham.
Try to bring chairs and table via the medium of public transport to Brixton.
Drop the box of breakables that I am carrying. See the horror in Designer Emily’s face.
Get told by bus driver that we have too much stuff to get on the bus even though the bus if half empty.
Compromise and split into two groups.
Feel my arms give way.
Put things into shop and groan.
Get paint over self even though have only been in shop for thirty seconds.
Man comes round to say the market is closing in five minutes.
Laugh as Emily has to repaint Charlie’s attempt to write on the wall.
Man comes round and says that THE MARKET IS CLOSING.
Try and work out if we put our ladder in our shop or not.
Leave market and get waylaid by COCKTAILS.
Man in Bar gives us a special deal on COCKTAILS because of flooded-launch-venue fandango (I will return to this one day).
Talk about clarinets and recorders and suchlike.
Go home feeling slightly tipsy.
Flatmates find old kettle in loft. I steal it.
Go to bed.