Three years ago today, I woke up to an horrific email from a venue threatening to sue me, because our murder mystery show the night before was an epic disaster on the biggest of scales. I was a mess; the show didn't work and shouldn't have gone live, it was comfortably the worst experience I've ever had as a performer. I was lucky that it all quickly blew over, thanks to a few legal things on our side, but I was a lost cause - living in my mate Edd's house for next-to-nothing rent, no career plans, temping, mid-30s and a shambles...this was all off the back of an adventurous but, ultimately, disastrous solo tour.
Three years later and, yeah, we're in a lockdown and in the middle of a global crisis, but I appreciate how things have worked out. Teaching career, hit play that's to be made into a film, bigger and better drumming projects, getting married and living a nice life in a nice house, with a new one on the way, with the two cats whom I'm getting quite attached to.
Today, though, I was just a bit rubbish, I think. Everything felt a bit flat (both writing courses and both drum lessons, even had a bit of a disagreement with a parent about the structure of where to put drum fills) (I know I was right) (will probably lose that student). Also getting niggled by parents being slow payers, so slow, they always pay eventually but it's an admin nightmare.
Sitcom book is coming together well and I recorded a nice track, plus made tracks on my Christmas novel, but I wasn't at my best today. Maybe I'm tired, let's blame the lockdown.
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