My feet are bothering me again. Dunno if any of you remember junior year when I had "plantar fascitis" however the heck you spell it, but it's when the tendon that goes from the ball of your heel to behind your toes gets inflammed. It's happening again. Last time I went to a doctor and he put me on ibuprofen and told me the best thing to do was to massage the sore parts--the more it hurt, the harder I should press. So that's what I've been doing, much to the chagrin of my roommates who have to put up with me moaning in agony while apparently hurting myself.
This has nothing to do with the fact that I have new shoes. White trainers with velcro straps because I am sick of my laces always coming untied. They are cool and European and purple and I love them.
Yesterday I went to the Tate Britain for lack of anything better to do (and because it was free!) and I had a little pinch of nostalgia, since this is one of the places I visited when I first came to London five years ago, aw. The phonebooth outside is the one where I got the obligatory "tourist on the phone in the Britsh red phonebooth" photo. aw. Then I trotted down towards Waterloo Bridge and enjoyed the Victorian parks. God bless the Victorians. They sure knew how to build things for the Benefit of the Public Good, didn't they?
Also--if you're walking over Lambeth Bridge, stop and look over at the supports nearest the north side of the river. There is a figure there holding out a model of St. Paul's Cathedral. It's not visible from the bridge unless you know where to look. And now you do!
Then today I had another rehearsal with the fabulous Matt Wilde for my piece. It's going to be over on Saturday and I can't wait. I love what the actors and directors have pulled out of my script, but I'm so sick of it right now. I really wish I could just avoid it for a week or two totally and come back to it fresh. I've been working on it so intensively that I can't even tell if what I'm producing is good/bad/in need of work/or in need of cutting. And that ain't good.