It honestly is all good, at the moment. I'm in two amazing bands, I have a BBC radio sitcom thing being recorded, I have a West End run of my hit Edinburgh show, I earn plenty of money teaching people how to drum (I start in yet another school next week) and I love drums, I'm getting married to a beautiful girl who really looks after me (not that I need looking after). 2 years ago I would have killed for this. 2 years ago I was nothing.
Yet still I get grumpy about the fact that I am, well, growing up. Josie, Vix and I wanted to party after last night's gig because we'd had a fun night, but I didn't because: 1) as established, there's no such thing as a quick drink with Josie and I need to see more of my future wife and 2) I had to teach at 9.30am this morning. Like a grown-up, with a job.
The lesson itself was lovely. Just the one today as my other Saturday student was away, but really worth the trip over. I get on well with the dad of the kid, we both like football and Fleabag.
Got home, got stroppy to myself about the show I'm writing for Emma. It just doesn't work. The idea is AMAZING, but the show doesn't work, at all. She's waited ages for this. I've decided to scrap it, I've restarted writing it 4 times now, it just isn't happening. I'll write her something else instead.
Small but wonderful FH gig tonight, we're getting so tight now and the buzz is back. Prue is a wonderful addition, not just onstage but off it (she gets our humour - she and I had a mini food fight backstage tonight), I want it to work for V, who was the only one who believed in this project when everyone else was looking elsewhere. We're on the way up, again, and it's a lovely thing.
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