Under My Bed…perfect antidote.
Took part in a fundraising event called Under My Bed last weekend in Smock Alley. It was in aid of Bernardos and was the perfect antidote to the seemingly endless trail of greed merchants wheedling away golden handshakes and nest eggs that would run a small orphanage for a year. It seems that Haughey /Bertie fallout has the same half-life as plutonium…but enough of that..It’s wearisome.
The logistical nightmare of staging 25/30 theatrical pieces each night was a major miracle. The miracle workers were Amy Dawson and Karen Lee…us musos, actors, and writers were the bit players. There was also a willing platoon of techies, helpers, and husheruppers (dressing room guffawing and other shenanigans can be heard in the performance area)…great gang.
I’m glad that I responded with a ‘yes’ when asked to take part, though this time last week, I was shitting myself. The two measly minutes of acting that I contributed had me shaking, but everyone assured me that it was only I who was aware of my trembling.
I was looking forward to getting high on some reciprocal backslapping post show, since these day I give other stimulants a wide berth but The Liquor Rooms in The Clarence proved too much for my hard of hearing and my sobriety.
Back in The Central Hotel I had to leave the window open and to the sounds of sirens, hilarity, and the odd street brawl, I drifted for a few hours….I’ve been catching up since Saturday.
Would have missed it for all the tea…….