the relentless march of content

with the fringe still barely a real thing (too old to abort, too young to name) i sit in our barely furnished flat (it’s very well situated) and ponder… will i remember all seventy five minutes of words? seventy five! minutes! words! i didn’t during the run-through in the technical rehearsal. nothing majorly important was cut by my errant brain unit, but it just made it a little choppy, not to mention how difficult the tech (incidentally also my lovely ladyfriend) then found it to follow.

och well. onwards and fringewards. they call them previews for a reason. only six pounds to come and see me probably get it right! PROBABLY!