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Diary
of a Lazy Playwright
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20th January, 2002Managed to get up at 7.00 for one day. This turned out to be a disaster. Feeling quite pious got on exercise bike; after three kilometres noticed any further exercise on my part wasn't being registered. Changed the batteries: even though they weren't alkaline they were the same size. Still didn't work, went round the house getting batteries from all remote controls, scales etc and trying them in bike computer. No joy. Kicked the bike. Still didn't work. Put the batteries I originally took out down my bra, as I heard somewhere this gives them extra life (warmth not bras) Started to take things off bike with screwdrivers and wrenches to look further afield for problem. Started to forget which screw and nut and bolt went where. Put incubated batteries back in computer. Nothing. Getting angry now, two and a half hours had passed, I could still be in bed. Stripped other things off bike, with bigger wrenches and screwdrivers. Found manual and rang service centre. Bike computer needs fixing, has to be sent away. Got on partner Howard's running machine and did three miles. Got off it walking like John Wayne. Resolved to have a shower as some of my best ideas come to me in the shower. Used new hair conditioner "for shiny hair". Hair is now so shiny if I stuck my head out of an upstairs window it would attract alien landing craft. Hurrah! Come up with two original ideas for Private Eye. Immediately get to computer, and after checking e mail put them in my nice new shiny "Private Eye" folder (although not as shiny as my hair which looks like I've been visiting a nucleur reactor). Next shower I'll come up with lead lines to go with the ideas. Think, must use those bath ballistics I got at Christmas. Have now secured Tom Conti's agent's address. Will write to him next week. Definitely. Put it in "Things To Do" folder. Looked at website for John Peel's 'Home Truths'. About to send e mail then thought I'd better agree it with the the teacher I traced before I go ahead (see last week's column) Agent passed on an e mail for me from an actor in Shortland Street, which I understand is a daytime soap. He's just moved to UK. Watched said programme to find he was the best thing in it. Will write back to welcome him to UK and as a kick in the teeth to all the other folk he's probably e mailed who won't reply as they're "far too busy". Finding it quite difficult to concentrate on the heirachy of the SS with two Jack Russels racing around the settee, one blind with three lots of stitches. Move up to office, make some notes for German play, pick up script for Clearance, and resolve to type in five more pages. One hour later, still haven't got to level 12 in Catch 'em Cowboy, found any new Classmates in Friends Reunited or have any new e mails. Tidy up CD rack. Still had a sore throat from my cold, so couldn't ring The Soho. Thursday the phone rang, it was The Soho. This is what I call synchronicity. Will be going up to Londinium soon for a chat. Got straight back on the running machine to look somewhere decent for forthcoming trip. Curse the exercise bike for leaving me in my hour of need. Already planning outfit. German military coat I bought for twenty squids or smart expensive long black coat? Or new jacket which makes me look like a TV presenter? Smart or Arty Smart or Arty? Resolve to enter this earth next time round as a man. I don't recall John Osbourne or Joe Orton planning exercise regimes, or worrying about coats, but then Joe got his exercise in other ways. Lynne Harvey
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