I was grateful that the theatre was not packed to the rafters, my nerves were terrible and my constant attempts to make sure that the order of the abstract and calamitous events of the last quarter of the play were fully ingrained in my memory only seemed to make them even more haphazard.
My marvellous costume, imagine a bearded Woody Allen with a comb over, helped me into the awkward and distorted physique of the Professor and the play started well enough, the audience quickly eased into the laughs and my co-actor Ana and I made excellent progress.
However, somewhere around page 203 I started to get the feeling that I had forgotten a massive chunk of script (I hadn’t) and became obsessed that I was destroying the show. I had a few moments of opening my mouth with little or no idea about what was to come out and somehow the correct lines popped out with as much gusto as I could muster.
Blind panic isn’t the word.
Still, we got through it unscathed and go into tonight’s show with improved confidence and a strong desire to build on the success of yesterday.
We go on, we go on…