Star Wars - never could see the point of it. Nor Dr Who. Nor Star Trek. Space, travel, time - pointless. All of it. And it's cold and drizzly. And we didn't get tickets for Razorlight at Buxton Opera House tonight. And it's 30 years since Mrs Thatch was elected - cut my honeymoon short to campaign against her! Well that's that rant out of the way.
On the plus side the allotment is looking pretty good and the first rhubarb harvest is in. "But what about the Fringe?", someone asks. (Whoops, just caught sight of Ed Balls on the TV for a moment - that's a bit scary). Maybe it's some sort of post-deadline depression or something. After all the excitement of receiving a record number of entries to the Fringe by last week's closing date this week has, in truth, been a bit flat. Now it's about waiting - nine weeks to the Fringe Launch Party. Between now and then Andy Murray will have lost at Wimbledon; millions of young people will have completed (potentailly) liife-defining examinations and the European elections will have passed by unnoticed. I feel a bit like a five-year-old waiting for Christmas. I've sent my wish list to Santa Claus. Just have to wait to see what's in the stocking.
Next week will, I promise, see a return to more positive thoughts and action as we start to plan our Fringe diary - trying to work out how to fit in as many events as possible and identifying the clashes that would make time and space travel something worth having.
by Keith Savage - Published 04/05/2009a