A short paeon, if I may, to the restorative power of social occasions. Or alcohol. Or whatever it was.
I met my Macbeth in the corridor this morning whilst trying to persuade my voice to get going after the *coughcough* few beers it encountered last night at the cast party. He was in fine (and loud, and intermittently multilungual) fettle when I saw him last; and this a man who very, very seldom drinks, and whose self-control, self-possession and cool precision are legendary amongst our current cast.
We grinned at each other like loons, and agreed that it was worth every degree of ragged voice to achieve the simple pleasure of waking up happy, relaxed, and looking forward to rehearsals. To be honest, I have been CONSTANTLY stressed to some degree or other for the past few weeks, and it did no end of good to simply kick back, pour beer down the gullet, and laugh at variously surreal and dirty jokes (these last, I have to admit, I still need help with from time to time. Luckily there was lots of help on tap last night.)
Not that we haven't gelled as a group; we are working very well together, I'd say. But somehow, having a couple too many beers together wrought a real transformation (I suspect that this has to happen at the right time to have any power, so more kudos to our director, who suggested the whole thing.)
All I can say is, I got to sing my mad scene today. And there will NEVER be anything to beat the sound of the cast and crew applauding, when you slink back in covered in sweat and with fur coat moulting spectacularly, mind still unsure and on the verge of tears. The sort of applause you carry with you to the grave.
This is Good!
Rats. Tried to insert a small audio snippet there. The host site is not keen. Sorry! Will try to get this sorted ASAP.
In the meanwhile, I intend to fully enjoy my Sunday, and wish you all the same!
Katy x x x