Damp Days

What a miserable day we’ve had. One of those drizzle days when the rain doesn’t quite rain but everything is wet and sticky from the humidity. Even the poodles are miserable. Still, I managed to stay dry, which is a bonus.

Another bonus is that Nicktor’s gout has almost gone. He was amazed when I told him one minute it would hurt and then, suddenly, as if by magic, it would be fine again. And then it happened. He was amazed he could walk once more. He was most pleased because he can come over next week for a Nicktor night.

I have been busy writing test scripts and tidying the house as we have visitors coming over on Saturday. Sophie and Tom are coming for lunch. Apparently, Tom can’t wait. He’s even picked out the movie we’re going to not watch.

I find, with my dissertation now under way, that Thursday has become my housework day. Not the minor things like washing but the big dust and sweep jobs. And we get a lot of dust! I assume it has something to do with the poodles. They may not shed hair but they cause a lot of dirt to traverse the house!

I particularly like cleaning the lounge because I can put the SoundBridge on and blast the street with either opera or musical comedy or, like today, some 1970s glam rock. David Bowie is still warbling from the speakers as I type…

Ch-ch-ch-changes,
(turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Oh, look out you rock ‘n rollers…

I’m sitting typing at the dining table and it reminds me yet again that I MUST get some speakers for the dining room. It’s only because the house is so small that I can hear the music in the other room. Of course it is regularly punctuated with rain drops.

Oh, you pretty things (oh, you pretty things)
Don’t you know you’re driving your
Mamas and papas insane…

David Bowie always reminds me of how I first started in theatre. I was at a party in Cammeray when I was 19. At some stage during the party someone put Life on Mars on the turntable (I assume it was a turntable but I guess it could have been a cassette). This was, at the time, my favourite song. I sang it with gusto.

After I’d finished, aglow in the final high note, I was approached by Wim (who lived in the house where the party was and where I had just taken over a room from a lesbian who had left) who, glassy eyed asked if I’d ever been in musicals. To be fair, I had no idea what a musical was. Obviously I said no. He then explained that he was choreographing The Boyfriend and one of the males had dropped out. He claimed, with my voice, I’d have no problem handling the part. He could teach me the choreography so I could catch up.

Wim at Cammeray

I was drunk, I was happy, I was easily swayed. I said “Sure, why not” and that was me hooked. Theatre had me in it’s talons for a very long time. While I preferred straight theatre, I have never forgotten the fun that musical comedy can be. I guess that explains why I still like them. I quite like singing as well…