Week commencing 31st October 2011. Noone ever books a show during this week. Ruth Rich can't compete with Hallowe'en and Bonfire Night. Time to relax........... no such luck. One day into my week off I was rushed to hospital with anaphylactic shock: nose and eyes streaming, itching, funny feeling in the throat followed by funny feeling all over as blood level plummeted and body went into meltdown. Had to stay in overnight while medics got blood pressure back to normal. Thought they were overdoing things a bit when they gave me an ECG. Discharged self from hospital feeling far worse than when went in on account of lack of sleep, but blood pressure was normal by now. Returned to GP and got a gratifyingly sharp intake of breath when she glanced at notes and saw how low blood pressure had dropped. The cure: adrenaline. Two days into a week off and my body was craving its regular rush of excitement. Honestly, talk about a drama queen!
Following week, adrenaline level hit the roof as prepared to perform at Inner Temple Grand Day with The Princess Royal, the Attorney General, the Home Secretary, the Master of the Rolls, the Lord Chief Justice and goodness knows who else besides in the audience. Felt more nervous than ever could remember. Had new material to deliver and knew would be filled with self-loathing if I messed up. Didn't mess up. Husband Bill did a turn too. He didn't mess up either. Whole occasion SO exciting. Sniffer dogs cased the joint in advance. My room for pacing around in nervously before the show was filled with bodyguards drinking coffee who seemed to be an awful lot less nervous than me. I've seen The Bodyguard. These chaps are supposed stand a centimetre away in dark glasses, packed with weapons and ready to kill or die for their protege. "You all seem very relaxed." I remarked. Turned out they were the back-up party. The main dining room where the royal party was seated was stiff with invisible others.
Then two days later up to Waingroves Community Centre near Ripley to perform Double Booked. I love Waingroves! An evening of entertainment is not an evening of entertainment in Waingroves without a game of irish bingo at the end. It is thrilling and funny and then it's down to the local pub asap to get in lots of beer. Before that there was my show to watch and I was introduced and thanked like royalty (I should know.) But during the interval I committed a major blunder: forgot to turn off microphone before commenting to techie about how things were going so far. Show organiser came running in to tell me that everyone was falling about laughing in the audience. Mind travelled back in a rush to try to remember what I'd just said. (Last time I did this I had commented rather impolitely about the group of drunk women out on a Friday night in Claverdon who'd chatted and giggled throughout my performance). No, it was OK. I'd been congratulating myself on a bit of hasty, back of the foot type re-arranging of the script when things got out of order. Figured the audience wouldn't have minded being let in on the secret. At the end of the evening the organiser said I'd got a good memory. People do mention this occasionally. It isn't true though. Yes, I can learn a lengthy script ..but can I remember where I've left my glasses or car keys? Not a hope. Can I remember to turn my microphone off? Only sometimes.
