Wednesday was a glorious sunny day. It began with me running my lines and then Her Highness and I joined our friends for a lovely long morning trail walk, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the scents of Springtime in the forest. After that, it was back to lines and tidying up the house in advance of the arrival of Glenys, Ron, Judith, Anthony and Monica, my small audience for a run of my monologue in front of people.
I ran my lines many times during the day. With each one, I felt slightly more confident about my afternoon mini performance. It’s not the words, I worry about so much, as it is about my ability to deliver them authentically—in a way that engages people. That’s the big challenge.
Robin said he’d be by yesterday to assess the bucked wood and to talk with me about the cost and time involved with splitting it. But he didn’t turn up. It surprised me because we have a history and I like him, but I’ll look elsewhere, I guess, for help.
I worked myself up into a real tizzy trying to get YouTube working on my TV so that my guests could see the film that runs before the monologue. I want them to have the full experience so that their comments are informed.
Monica, Glenys and Ron are neighbours; Judith and Anthony are fellow dog walkers. They all arrived close together. I served everyone tea and I put out a plate of cookies (that they liked) and chocolates. I told them the backstory and then I played the film of me doing the intro on my TV. Then I did my monologue. I had 2 blocks. I’ve got to keep running my lines. But I felt 200% better about my presentation compared to my last mini performance.
They quite amazed me with their praise—but then they know me. They were all, each person, extremely positive. They even said nice things about the gestures that concerned me. It waws a total success in that it gives me courage to go on and for the performances in Victoria.
Regardless of their enthusiasm, I am nervous because I cannot do it without a block. I need a prompter.
I picked a bouquet of Daffodils from my front garden. It’s the first year the Deer. Haven’t eaten them. I wanted the flowers in the living room for yesterday’s tea. After everyone left, I put the daffodils on my desk. As I type, I smell the Daffs with every breath. It’s the most wonderful thing, to have that Springtime smell all the time.
F. C. Schang donated 64 artists’ calling cards to The Met between 1977 and 1989. The calling cards are housed in an album that also includes Schang’s collection of stamps and other related ephemera. Calling cards derived from a custom, originating in England, in which messages were inscribed on the backs of playing cards. Cards made for the express purpose of sharing hand-written messages were manufactured beginning in the eighteenth century; by the early-nineteenth century, calling cards had become a popular means for sending well wishes, holiday greetings, condolences, and messages of courtship. Here are some of them ….