Bridge House Theatre

This was a night to remember.   One of those occasions when everything seemed to go right.  Ticket sales were good and the theatre space was pure luxury.   Not only onstage.   I had grown fondly accustomed to my Edinburgh venue and still have no complaints but the basket of fruit, biscuits, tea, coffee and china cups in the Bridge House Theatre dressing room was a vast improvement upon the empty cans of Red Bull from the late night comedy shows which littered the underground dressing room I'd used during the Festival.  That and the fact that the loo worked... and all the lights.

I spent the fifteen minutes before the start sitting upstairs listening to the audience assemble.  As the time meandered by I imagined myself catching my foot and falling down the stairs and onto the stage.  The thought became an obsession, so I entered rather gingerly, I think.  Must have looked amazing though because the audience applauded.  I told Bill when I got home.  "Well it was a literary festival."  He said knowingly, as if he would.  That's the convention at literary festivals apparently.  Nothing to do with how brilliantly I'd come down the stairs at all. 

I had been most excited about the after show discussion .... intrigued to know what might be asked.  There were a few friends in the audience and some my children's schoolfriends' parents.  Second question:  are any of the characters based on anyone you know?   Oh, the temptation!   "Yes, actually.  The character called Timmy's Mum .. the supercilious cow who never returns favours and always looks down at you.  Well, you know so and so?  What do you think?  And the drop dead gorgeous teacher character?  Do you remember Mr .... from the Junior School.   Left a few years ago?  Knowing look.   Only it wouldn't have been true.  Not entirely.