Monday, July 21, 2003

Diaries are more fun. You can’t say “Dear Blog”, for instance, without feeling more than a little foolish. And you certainly can’t put down the things you can safely say in your private li’l book for whoever drops in to read. Then why a blog? This is a question that occupies me every time I think I should add an entry. Why indeed.

We performed Jean Anouilh’s ‘Episode in the Life of An Author’ today at Trinca, a bar-restaurant on Park Street (in Calcutta, for the uninitiated). I played the part of a Rumanian journalist, come to interview the Author. Light little farce, quite easy on the nerves. It was quite an experience, performing in such a place, and I think it was worth the (minimal) trouble we took over it. It was a free show, a sort of bonus for today’s lunch guests. We ourselves didn’t get any money, but we did get to order our choice of a scrumptious lunch. And there were free tasters of Bacardi Breezer on offer. Altogether, we didn’t do too badly off a show it took us five evenings to bring together, more or less. And I didn’t even mention the press coverage we should get for such an unusual performance.

Spirits have finally revived after a couple of days of feeling very sorry for myself. Beq and I MUST learn not to get on each other’s nerves so much.

-- See, that’s what I mean. How on earth is an utter stranger going to know who Beq is and why my spirits would be low? So I might as well write all this in my diary, except it’s too much hard work actually writing all this in the big book. Typing’s so much less work. (shamefaced grin)

2 comments:

Beq said...

Man! This was FIVE fucking years ago!!! Yet I remember more from then than from two years ago...so I guess I'm all right!

Sue said...

Yeah... you're going to the end of the line.