HAIR today and gone tomorrow

Its rude to eat celery when you’re talking to somebody on the telephone but a girls got to do what a girls got to do. I have been so busy that I’ve just finished supper, whilst trying to suck on the celery to keep the noise to a minimum. It’s 00.18 and I have only just started work….
Last night was fluff this evening was HAIR. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go but I mustered up the courage and set off for the GUILGUD THEATRE on Shaftsbury avenue.
But let me tell you about yesterday first.

Election fever is gripping everybody and it causes havoc with my programme. Any mention of a political party means the other two major parties have to be mentioned too. Its all about balanced coverage. Its all about impartiality – not one of my strong points – so any topic that treads a fine line between politics and news has to be accurate and fair. It means that eggshells are scattered all over the floor for three hours.
Yesterday I started the show with BAE and their profiteering from arms sales. I thought my producer was going to stun me a I blunderbussed my way through a quagmire of calls all talking about potentially combustible aspects of the arms trade. It all worked out okay in the end, even if my blood pressure did rise a few digits.
I met with Bee after the show and we headed off to the Premier of ITS A WONDERFUL AFTER LIFE, Gurinder Chadha’s latest film.
Its silly and funny, heartfelt and watchable. It’s set in Southall with a delightful cast, terrific music with more primary colours than should be allowed on a Monday night.
We sat in Row A in the jet stream of the air-con. Even though the audience were wearing the most astonishing Indian bling and even though the film was entertaining and warm I froze. My knees got so cold I had to put Bee’s coat over my lap and wrap up in my anorak. It was meant to be a starry premier and I looked like a bag lady who had wandered in from Leicester Square.
Everybody was given a bag of crispy poppodoms and offered a bindi for their forehead. I declined both. I didn’t fancy the crispy snax and couldn’t be bothered to wait for the bindi girl to unpick the bindi off the strip and put it on my already furrowed brow.
After applauding the cast, which included Zoe Wannamaker lookIng wonderful in a white coat and black leggings and Gurinder looking like a Goddess in a floaty red number, I took a taxi to the flat just to warm up.
Supper last night was taken at the computer and on the telephone not unlike this evening…
I had to research a new book for an interview so I fell asleep having forgotten to re-set the alarm. This morning I awoke 50 minutes later than I should have done. I leapt out of bed and made my first of four litres of super greens. Blended my breakfast and lunch smoothie, meditated, washed, dressed and got out just in time to catch the sun. I walked so fast into WC1 that my back-pack stuck to my mac-back.
My new Nike Free (3) trainers are brilliant though, they are meant to replicate walking bare foot so I fairly sprinted into St. James Park, which always lifts my spirits. The blossom at the moment makes for a flurry of snow-white petals, lovely.
The show was more relaxed today, which meant my blood pressure stayed the same. Helped hugely by the two Hairy Bikers who came and talked about their forty date tour. They are two of the most delightful men I have ever had the pleasure of working with, they do more for cooking, and motorbikes, than a Harley Davidson made out of praline chocolate with foot pegs made of honey roasted almonds.
After todays show I met with a dear friend and we walked slowly to the South Bank where we partook of guacamole and a tomato salad with pesto, camomile tea and good conversation, by the time we arrived at the Theatre I was fed and watered and ready to leave at the interval.
Back in 1968 I was a 19 year old drama student. I was working in a hazy, hash filled den called the ARTS LAB in Drury Lane. I must have been the only person in London who didn’t see HAIR. Tonight I redressed the balance. 40 years on I sat in the fourth row and by the time we reached the finale, to my astonishment, I was hooked.
There isn’t one voice on that stage that isn’t utterly stunning, there isn’t one person on that stage that isn’t utterly committed. The musicians are legendary and the Hippie revival comes complete with an inter-generational audience jumping on stage at the end. When the lead actor calms down a bit and the all American cast remember they are in London, not in Central Park, it will be a smash.
It’s now bedtime and some more reading. Tomorrow I’ve had to cancel, yet again, a dinner date, as I have so much work on.
I’ve set the alarm although if I can muster up enough energy I’ll get up at six and do three hours writing. My literary agent is waiting for another chapter and a synopsis.
My producer is waiting for me to write a new opening for the third audio book. RISK IT FOR A BISCUIT is out there now.
I have a big meeting next wednesday which I have to prepare for and I have more books to get through than Waterstone’s press officer.
From HAIR to eternity – night night.