Oh, Dear Diary. I have no idea what happened. I’m sure it must have been something we ate, because I’ve been extremely poorly. In between visits to the bathroom, I managed a call to Arlene, and she feels the same. Remind me never to eat in the Harvey Nicks café again.
I felt so bad that I just had to get Juanita to call the USB, Evie, to let her know I wouldn’t be in this morning, but would try my damnedest to be there for the afternoon call.
Once I’d had a bit more sleep, I began to feel a bit better, especially once Juanita had bought me her special pick-me-up tonic; a wonderful concoction, but she just won’t tell me what’s in it! The closest I’ve ever got to guessing is that it has some sort of juniper flavouring, and is a little bit fizzy. Once, I even saw a little bit of something white fizzing away in it, but she just keeps silent!
After a long look in the mirror, I decided on layers and dark glasses today – for some reason, my eyes are particularly dark and puffy.
Rehearsals were hideous; a dear girl, Sarah Mahoney (pronounced “Marney”, so why not just spell it like that? I think she might have a few attention issues!) insisted on singing at the top of her voice, practically making my ears bleed. And playing some sort of long, shiny, bendy flute thing. Apparently, she’s an “actor-musician”, which I think means that she couldn’t get a real performing job, so settled with being backing singer/band for the show.
Of course, I was very eager to offer my own musical skills; I played a bit of Crumhorn in the school Early English Music Ensemble. However, this seems to have fallen on deaf ears. More fool them, if you ask me.
It was all about the dancing this afternoon, so the kids were flailing about, and Karl the Chroeogramepher, to my disappointment, seemed to be encouraging them. I was eventually asked to join, and learned a short tango phrase with one of the gentleman dancers; I say gentleman, but Dear Diary, he was awfully hands on, and giggly. He kept on calling me darling, and complementing me on the colour palette I was wearing… Poor boy, I do hope he isn’t developing une petite crush. I shall just have to keep my eye on him.
That done, it was back home, and am now in bed with my night-time Ovaltine. I think an early night is in order; what with the food poisoning this morning and the painful vocal stylings of Sarah Marney, this throbbing headache just won’t be shaken.
I think I have earned a nice relaxing weekend off to digest these rather unnecessarily complex dance steps, and I might even have a little peek at the “script” thingie I was given on day one to see if anything might be of use.
I shall report in on Tuesday, dearest Diary (as there is no rehearsal on Monday either!)
Have a wondrous weekend. xxxxx
I felt so bad that I just had to get Juanita to call the USB, Evie, to let her know I wouldn’t be in this morning, but would try my damnedest to be there for the afternoon call.
Once I’d had a bit more sleep, I began to feel a bit better, especially once Juanita had bought me her special pick-me-up tonic; a wonderful concoction, but she just won’t tell me what’s in it! The closest I’ve ever got to guessing is that it has some sort of juniper flavouring, and is a little bit fizzy. Once, I even saw a little bit of something white fizzing away in it, but she just keeps silent!
After a long look in the mirror, I decided on layers and dark glasses today – for some reason, my eyes are particularly dark and puffy.
Rehearsals were hideous; a dear girl, Sarah Mahoney (pronounced “Marney”, so why not just spell it like that? I think she might have a few attention issues!) insisted on singing at the top of her voice, practically making my ears bleed. And playing some sort of long, shiny, bendy flute thing. Apparently, she’s an “actor-musician”, which I think means that she couldn’t get a real performing job, so settled with being backing singer/band for the show.
Of course, I was very eager to offer my own musical skills; I played a bit of Crumhorn in the school Early English Music Ensemble. However, this seems to have fallen on deaf ears. More fool them, if you ask me.
It was all about the dancing this afternoon, so the kids were flailing about, and Karl the Chroeogramepher, to my disappointment, seemed to be encouraging them. I was eventually asked to join, and learned a short tango phrase with one of the gentleman dancers; I say gentleman, but Dear Diary, he was awfully hands on, and giggly. He kept on calling me darling, and complementing me on the colour palette I was wearing… Poor boy, I do hope he isn’t developing une petite crush. I shall just have to keep my eye on him.
That done, it was back home, and am now in bed with my night-time Ovaltine. I think an early night is in order; what with the food poisoning this morning and the painful vocal stylings of Sarah Marney, this throbbing headache just won’t be shaken.
I think I have earned a nice relaxing weekend off to digest these rather unnecessarily complex dance steps, and I might even have a little peek at the “script” thingie I was given on day one to see if anything might be of use.
I shall report in on Tuesday, dearest Diary (as there is no rehearsal on Monday either!)
Have a wondrous weekend. xxxxx