I have the script of the show! 36 pages long - single spaced (Grrrr! no room to write notes and directions to myself in between the lines. Scripts should be double spaced so we actors - pretentious? Moi?? - can write notes to ourself like 'sardonic', 'whistful glance', and 'wipe cat sick off trousers'.) I'm nearly on every page (oh God!) and though the dialogue is not up to the stunning standards of the Starlost writers (see under Kier Dullea's Big Gay Moustache down below) it is not good.
The 'moral' of the play, which I deliver on the last page, reads:"There is no point in worrying about what might have been. The thing is it's never too late. And anyone can visit a careers adviser nowadays; it's not just for young people."
At which point I am going to be hard pressed not to turn to the audience and say in my best Pat Boone voice "Yes kids, and just say no to drugs too."
At which point I am going to be hard pressed not to turn to the audience and say in my best Pat Boone voice "Yes kids, and just say no to drugs too."
The tour takes us to Tiree.
"Sept 15th AM Fly to Tiree PM Tiree, Sept 16th Fly back from Tiree".
My first thought was to look up Tiree and see if it had an airstrip. It does. A real one. So we won't be landing on a beach which is what I was scared of. I didn't think to look where we would be flying from, I guess Inverness, which means we will be practicaly flying over the house. Twice. In a small aeroplane over all these big jaggy mountains. I am going off the idea of this whole thing. I seem to remember the planes on this run are called "Otters" I can't see it; me flying over big pointy mountains in something called an Otter to deliver patronising messages to High School kids in the middle of the fucking Atlantic.
Oh Crap. What have I let myself in for?
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