Meds please, Nurse Ratched

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Having a break from printing out 75 writing handouts for six year olds on creating dragons. Keeping it real, down with the kids in rural Northumberland. Making the magic of writing happen. Watch their little faces light up when I am introduced as a writer and then fall when they realise they have never read/seen anything by me and that I write for - yawn - theatre - and no, I haven’t met JK Rowling. Never mind, I will use the opportunity to litter the staffroom with Pub Quiz flyers.

Mmmm…

Just a thought, it could be fantastic. It could be, should be. I am going to see the play in published form for the first time on Thursday which is cool. The set looks fantastic, sound and lighting are brilliant and in safe and experienced hands. The actors are great, director too and the script’s not half-way bad.

This is it. It’s going to be brilliant. I am going to be brilliant. I will carried through the streets of Hexham on the shoulders of burly but articulate and perceptive country folk who will salute my success with the creation of songs and perhaps an energetic jig.

Maybe this is what it is like being bipolar

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