The Shopkeeper, The TLS and The Ipod

This morning my shopkeeper a softly spoken man calledAbdullah said “We’re going to come see your show tonight”. I lit up “how manytickets would you like”. After some discussion with his son and wife “may Ihave four” he said “yes” I replied. I am over the moon. It cheers me up. Ittakes about an hour to get to the theatre and I know how hard he works so it’san honour that he would come see the show.

I’ve been in mourning for my lost my ipod!  But today I found an earlier model.  I left the shop put on the headphones tunedin and turned on.  London swept past me like it were a slowrelease camera shot of streaking brake lights on a motorway.    Discover your inner ipod I say!  I spentthe day at The Riverside Rooms in The Artist in Residence joint at The SouthbankCentre. At 6pm I dived onto the tube at embankment to Hammersmith.

The play is coming into it’s own. I am starting to reallyenjoy it and hopefully so are the audience which sold out tonight. I returned homeat about 10.30pm and sat on the tube happy with myself at a job well done. Then  I got the text.  “Lemn. we came but they wouldn’t let us in.They said there were no tickets under my name”. I had totally forgotton to puthis name on the door. I feel so bad.

I made the mistake of going online when I got home.  An anonymous person sent in a  link to an “in depth review” of my play in The Times Literary Supplement.  The reviewer Jane O’Grady    pursues her singular point with vigour to the detriment of the play.  And that is her right as reviewer,  but in depth it isn’t.   Time Out wrote fair review too.   Both are slightly Ouch. But hey it’s all partof the deal isn’t it? I can handle it. And More importantly tomorrow I shall walkin to the shop to see Abdullah and apologise.

 

 

Main Pagelemn sissay