Total nightmare

During the early hours of the morning I have a anxiety dream - not about the writing of the play but about the production.

We are about half way through the run and the actor playing Fred is indisposed. As the only person who knows all the words, I am the automatic choice to stand-in! Knowing the lines is one thing, knowing when to come on stage is entirely another.

The Octagon has somehow transformed into a promenade space where there are numerous possiblities as to where the next scene might take place. I am confused because I cannot even wait in the wings listening for my cue to enter.

I spend the first half in the dressing room on my own in a complete panic. However, it turns out that I am not required to appear at all. 'This can't be right'. 'What is the writer thinking of not to include the main character before the interval?'

On top of all this, I know I look ridiculous in the costume and I have lost the flat cap in amongst the chaos of the dressing room. How the hell am I supposed to play the part of Fred without wearing his ubiquitous flat cap?

Done but not dusted

I lock myself away to polish up the script bearing in mind David's comments.
I also add a new scene and re-vamp the final sequence entirely.

After I have submitted the new draft on the agreed deadline (phew!), I look around the office where I work. It's a tip. So is the rest of the house.

As I get busy with the duster and hoover, I have a quiet sense of satisfaction that everything play-wise is on schedule.