The prospect of doing the next show without my tights falling down. It seems a small thing, but those of you who were once little girls will be familiar with SGS. Saggy Gusset Syndrome. I remember it best from being a child because these days I buy tights that fit me. Those days my darling Mother bought tights that fitted me until I grew. Children never stop growing. Hence entire winters spent with gussets somewhere around my knees. Urgh, I hate that feeling! In the show we have lycra dance tights with stirrups. Mine are a particularly attractive shade of purple. They are the right length but as the show progresses, they slip off my hips and I end up with SGS. So I potter down to the local dance-wear shop that exists by providing sequinned outfits for octogenarian ballroom dancers; and buy a non-sequinned leotard in the same purple as my tights. Genius.
Clarins Fixing Spray. I've already blogged about the clown white we have to cake our faces in. It along with the cropped length trousers, black work boots and gaudy leg-wear contributes to the unique Rude Mechanical style. It's supposed to be a mask, but mobile. It's certainly mobile. It gets bloody everywhere! Costumes, instruments, Dog, audience... but the most frustrating thing is that when it smudges, it not only covers everything it comes into contact with, it leaves your face looking less like pierrot and more like you've been standing looking up at a seagull colony. Powder gives you a yellowish tinge and there are terrible caking issues. So it is with no small degree of excitement that I discover a Clarin's product that promises not only to give you a refreshing spritz of rose-water and grapefruit, but also contains some kind of fructose based polymer that will glue your make-up to your face. Perfect.
Head Torch. Does what it says on the tin. Turns your head into a giant torch. Late night get-outs in the dark? Essential.
My Tour Birthday. It's today! On this tour, everyone, including the dog, gets a tour birthday. Present, card, cake and best of all you get to decide what everyone does in their free time. We are recording the show album today but this evening, I want to do yoga for an hour and a half at the local sports centre, followed by a pint or three of Olympia, a local ale from Harvey's Brewery in Lewes. Everyone is in favour of the latter. Re/ yoga: Sax Chick and Bones are keen. Basso says he will, but only if he gets to work out behind Awol so that he can take the piss. Fiddle Boy visibly blanches at the prospect, or at least I think he does. He has very fair skin so I could be wrong. If the recording over-runs (is Winnie-The-Pooh a Catholic?) we'll probably end up with a curry in Awol's Inn. Happy days.
I was going to finish this post with 'Things We Are Reasonably Unexcited About' but the excitement of the above has driven them from my mind.
Bring it on!
Lx
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