Scrooge

So this weekend I have sweated, smiled to the point of pain and swelled. (No, not my ankles, but swelled with pride). (No, not the bad sort of pride, the good sort.) (IS there a good sort?) (Don't know but my over-use of brackets is beginning to bug me too.)

Many years ago, my buddy Marcia was thrown in the deep end. Instead of waving at me as she drowned, she pulled me in with her and we drowned together. Except we didn't drown, we floated, and together we started doing amazing things. (Ok sounds a bit flaky, will drop the dodgy analogies, along with the brackets.) 

This is just a little thank you to her for trusting me and my crazy ideas (what WAS I thinking with that minstrel? Not very Dickensian...) and for letting me offload when things got too much. For putting me in my place when I moaned that I wasn't acting in it (at first, though things got rearranged half way through). For trusting me to direct a group of people (whose only experience of acting has been in this church). Flip me, what was she thinking? 

I have had a ball, there really is something thrilling about treading the boards. (Is that right, or am I mixing my idioms?) I'm proud of the cast and crew and proud of my mate Marcia who managed to find a buoyancy aid for us. Thank you to all who came and joined in our journey. (Now pass me the bucket, I need to vomit). (And not just because of the slushiness but also because of those damned brackets.)