Deborah Conway: Thursday August 23rd 2001

Man I’m sick of being sick, the drawbacks of living with small but highly efficient germ collectors is that even if you dodge 90% of what’s cooking in their viral soup kitchen you just can’t elude that last 10%. I have laryngitis, had it all week, and no amount of radox baths, Friars Balsam steams and whispering has helped. (Well, maybe I didn’t whisper that much but I wasn’t singing 27 songs a night.)

Last night we opened and I muddled by with half a throat, a nice metaphor for the venue which is slowly being appropriated by a tradesman’s trade fair. A foyer full of power drills and gap filler is perhaps not the most ideal prelude to Patsy Cline but hey it’s a new millennium and the lines between low culture and high shopping have always been fuzzy.

Today is a day off as the trade fair has invaded even the inner sanctum of theatre. Good for me and my bastard throat. We took ourselves off to the ENT man this morning who sprayed anaesthetic up my nose and then proceeded to invade me with a long flexible telescopic tube to tickle my larynx with (seriously not that much fun) only to tell me I should do Friars Balsam steams and don’t talk.

So I went to the movies, did a little light shopping and had a haircut, talked a bit to the hairdresser but that’s pretty much compulsory; and now, to the steam!..

DC

added Thursday, 23 August, 2001

Reader Input

Posted by: porcel at February 8, 2007 06:51 PM