Suddenly this summer
14 April 2004
So I had one of those terrific days, where I wrote a couple of thousand words before five oíclock, to finish my chapter. And then I took the handheld down the hill to the Lit & Phil and wrote a thousand words more, to start the next. Then I went to the Theatre Royal to meet Gail, and I was there first, so I just wrote a little more while I was waiting (and all this with the new Guy Gavriel Kay novel in my bag, and he is just my favourite writer, not excluding myself...). And we saw Suddenly Last Summer, in a production with Diana Rigg, on a set that clashed open and clashed together like a Venus flytrap, stinking of symbolism in that hot, sticky way that Tennessee Williams just does; and it was wonderful, and really all about bone structure. Diana just is, anyway; and it seemed to me that the language was the bone structure of the dialogue, and the set the bone structure of the production, and so on and so forth. I was off on a flight, and just loving it.
But that was yesterday. Today has been grim, a hacking struggle to drag out a couple of pages, amid my Misha-catís going to the vet for a check-up and ending up being kept in overnight for tests and a possible operation in the morning. She has a list of troubles, none of which is inherently life-threatening, but the cumulative effect is - well, this. Sheís in hospital waiting on the results of bloods and blood-pressure readings, and Iím at home and canít work and am just going to get drunk, I fancy.
© Chaz Brenchley 2004
Reproduced here by permission of Chaz Brenchley, who asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of this work.