Whoops! There goes my trousers!

There's something about doing theatre that takes you over. It's one of those 'actory' things you have to beware of saying, but at the same time I think is true. I'd noticed it before coming to Lecoq in relation to playing different characters. Spending weeks or even months trying to be someone else, think like them, move like them and act like them seeps into you. Similar parts of your own personality emerge more strongly and you take on aspects of the character's.

How much worse then, not just one character, but a whole theatrical style. We're doing Burlesque at the moment which is what they call Charlie Chaplin, (Charlo the french call him) Buster Keaton, Marx Brother etc. Lots of prat falls and getting hit but not actually hurt and apologising. I LOVE it. I obviously have a very lowest common denominator sense of humour.

My very kind friend J**** came round to help me fix my bed tonight. I really owe him one! (You see, I can't get out of burlesque - or is that carry on?) We came straight from an evening of rehearsing our own respective cascade sequences and it became 'the bed fixing routine'. Already conversation like 'Oh my bed is broken! How did that happen?' is along those lines. Then all the 'have you got it in yet? Push harder!' dialogue. Stepping on something under the bed and hearing the crunch of breaking glass. Pushing an enormous piece of chipboard into an oil painting (nearly). Manoeuvring huge mattresses and pieces of chipboard around in 16m2. It was absurd. And of course, of course finally fixing it and then stepping backwards and the slat falling out of it's hole. Of course.

And all the way through me issuing a series of 'oppsie daisy!'s and 'whoopsie''s .

Well I thought it was funny. I'm not so sure about J****.