Adventures in Grease/Greece

Dear You,

Again, I am very sorry for not blogging recently- I am riddled with pathogens. It seems that my weekend has mostly consisted of my taking baths and taking drugs. #paracetamoljunkie4lyfe.

But that was not all. Here's what I've been up to:

-Watched Doctor Who. Anybody else slightly disappointed? I liked the ye olde footage from way back when- I'm one of the few people in my generation to have seen DW before it came back- but generally it wasn't very series-finale-esque. There should've been more explosions and ACTUAL deaths. Not that I'm macabre.

-Watched Eurovision! Loved it- I thought Finland should have won because of the catchy tune and the kiss at the end, but I don't think Europe was ready for that. I thought the presenter was brilliant, and her song was hilarious- I love it when people can take the piss out of themselves. I also thought Greece was strangely great- it was basically men in kilts emulating Madness and telling us that 'alcohol is free', although that belief could be the root of all their problems. I'm quite glad they didn't win though, because next year's contest probably would've taken place in a shed, given the state of their economy. And Romania- what was that? I'm not sure, but I bloody loved it. And Norway, your performance was so migraine-inducing I had to hide under my duvet, so thanks for that.

- I had a recall for a production of Grease in Manchester yesterday. It was for Eugene and Teen Angel, but it wasn't tonnes of fun since it felt like I'd swallowed a blend of razor blades and spiky toenails. They didn't ask me to sing Beauty School Dropout, but the Eugene lines went well, thanks for asking.

- In a hilarious (should it be 'an'? I never can tell) plot twist, I did NO revision. Great life choice there, M. To be fair, I was lying in bed thinking 'Someone please shoot me in the face, I hate feeling like this.' Actually, last night I had a brilliant idea- in the (fairly likely) event that my vocal chords have to be removed, I invented a machine that would help me speak. Before the operation, I would record every sound in the English language, and then spend the days after surgery going through a dictionary and putting sounds to every word. Then I'd type what I wanted to say into a phone/computer and it would talk for me. I even factored my need to go on Desert Island Discs into this scenario. I then proceeded to have an ibuprofen-induced drug dream where everyone was plagued by an illness that rendered them unable to talk, but before it fully happened I dispensed voice recorders with a whole sheet of sounds that they had to record. Just me, saving humanity. Don't worry. I also had a life crisis; how would one write the sound found in 'usual' and 'bourgeois'? Is it 'gh'? Someone please tell me...

So what did you do over the weekend, You? I'm sure it wasn't as exciting, camp or revolutionary as mine.

Yours illy,

M.

P.S. Mother felt my forehead this morning and said 'Ooh, you're a bit clammy.' Well, sorry Mother. Sorry I'm not in pristine condition whilst feeling like shite. Sorry that I'm such a disappointment! SORRY FOR BEING ALIVE! Actually, she has been loverly this weekend; her and my sister collectively ran me a bath with bubbles and candles and rubber ducks and then made a hot water bottle for me. Cuties.