It's not all about the roads.
More metaphorically, I was back on the road in other ways. There was the general getting back into work after the bank holiday thing, which feels a bit like being back in the driving seat, even though I was a bit wrong-footed by the fact that I'd forgotten to take my work trousers with me over the weekend, so had to go to work in jeans. But most importantly, I was back on the road in the sense of getting back into the show. Ah, the show.
"The Show" is a strange term that's used by people to describe some work or other that they're concocted for the purposes of foisting on an unsuspecting audience. I remember the amount of conversations that a co-writer and I had about a musical we were writing. We would always refer to it, not by title, but as either "The Show" or "The Musical". In the end, it came as no surprise to either of us that we ended up creating a new show, called "The Musical!", which accurately and stupidly captured the mood of making a show together.
Touring a show, which I suppose is one way of describing the various performances that will happen of The Seven Deadly Jokes before the year is out, is another metaphoric hitting of the road. Generally having a show date looming does feel like a journey. An inexorable unstoppable progress towards a date. The show must go on, the date will be met. Aaaagh and eeeek!
I met my co-show-colleague type last night and we did a couple of read-throughs of the show, noting the bits which we'd rewritten last time we met up, and also noting how little of it seemed to be in the front of our brains. This is concerning, but perhaps not the end of the world. We have managed to learn the whole thing in about 3 sessions before, so it's not beyond us to learn it again in time for our next performance, which is in less than 2 weeks now. It's something I don't want to get too stressed about. We love our show and we're going to have fun doing it.
In addition to the show rehearsal, I was in a bit of a spot. I had a lot of mess in my house and no actual spare time to deal with it. A principal source of disruption was the sheer number of laundered but unironed shirts hanging (literally) around the place. I had to deal with it, so agreed to multi-task with the rehearsing. Could I remember my lines at the same time as ironing a shirt? Well, in some cases, I could.
We're going to have to up our game in the next rehearsal - perhaps balling my socks will have to wait.