Thanks to the last month or so, I haven’t had the chance to properly check in, so here we go.
Somewhere in between working a festival and hacking the life out of the garden (although I might argue hacking life back in), the festival ended, a skin treatment plan (finally) began, and I had my second ever stage reading. So, y’know, busy.
The Science festival went ridiculously well. Spread over five venues, the general consensus was that if you were a bookable workshop, you were going to be swamped, regardless of the time of day. It was also Easter. National visitors, international, our station grew busier and busier as the festival went on, and there were times when you couldn’t help but wonder why the week after Easter was busier than before and during. Answer: I have none. Eight hours of small children, lego, and being on your feet the entire time, the biggest thing I learnt? Footwear. I have never felt more love for my dance trainers of old. And I occasionally got to practice going en pointe. Simple things in life.
Skin treatment plan, you ask? Well, it’s only now as I type this that I realise I still haven’t explained what the hell is wrong with me, or what all my cryptic posts about the year(s) from hell have been about. Essentially, the year of my Masters was possibly the best and worst twelve months of my life, and I’m still paying the price for it nearly two years on. I can take the internal damage it did – the uncontrollable weight loss, the hormonal screw up and the effect it had on my cycle – but the external damage was probably the hardest to face because, well, it was on my face. The rest I could ignore because I couldn’t see it – not so easy when it looks back at you in the mirror every day. So last November, I sought treatment to try and calm it the fuck down in a way a year off couldn’t, pushed for a dermatology referral, and as of a week ago I’m finally being treated for perioral dermatitis (we think).
Once the festival ended, I had two epiphanies: in less than a fortnight, I had a night of rehearsed readings for a piece I hadn’t created, and that I’m ready to move into the Beginner group of silks. I’m aware how lame it sounds, but the immediacy of these things were a little daunting. Particularly for the reading, I had zero energy to write anything during the day after the festival, and the following day the script was due in.
During that week, I managed to go home after a fortnight away and a week that was meant to be spent on redrafting was instead devoted to garden hackery. I should also clarify: ‘garden‘ is not an appropriate descriptor for what lies outside of my house. ‘Woodland with spaces‘ would be better. Where we live is in what I like to call a time and location free bubble – everything’s different here. Civilisation is literally up the road, but our area would be considered ‘countryside‘. We have a protected wood at the back of our house meaning we do not have ‘garden‘ trees, we have woodland trees. Long story short, our ‘garden‘ is a pisser to work with. All that being said, I actually made some headway considering the fraction of help I had with it. (Word of advice: if someone ever asks you to help them split and plant snowdrops, say no. They will haunt your dreams).
Then the rehearsed readings. Fifteen writers, five minute slots – an incredible night all round. So many different ideas and styles, but what a talented bunch. I had two days to redraft and submit a developed script for another scratch night – submitted with four minutes to spare, holla – and since two Sundays past, I’ve been doing some much needed blog homework. So if fellow readers are wondering why I keep popping up, why I haven’t popped up, or why it’s taking so long to say hello to newcomers (and by new, I mean some who are also from six months ago), it’s because I am super behind.
Annnd now we’re here. All caught up. Told you I’d been busy.