Reflections on the puddle of life

Recently I got it into my head that I want to write a play. I'm not sure where the idea came from, but as I've written poetry and write short stories, I suppose having a go at playwrighting is a natural step in my creative writing journey.

That being said, I have written plays before. In secondary school I wrote two plays. One was really good (or I thought it was then anyway); it was a parody of an UK TV programme called Allo Allo for those that remember it. It was funny, and got a lot of laughs. I was pretty proud of it. The second play was terrible, largely because I permitted myself to be influenced by some girls that I wanted to be friends with, who were only really interested in getting on stage. So that was a bit of a mess. You live and learn, as they say.

The fact is, I love the theatre but it is a love that has been neglected. I used to go to the theatre often; I've been to the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford, which is the home of Shakespeare, and seen the most fantastic performance of Henry IV part one. I've dragged my poor husband to outdoor performances of Shakespeare (not recommended - couldn't hear a bloody thing!) and Waiting for Godot (which he hated), and Miss Julie and Ibsen's Hedda Gabler (he almost slit his wrists) and I think I might have slightly turned him off theatre so, perhaps with some relief on his part, we haven't been since before my son was born. My son is now 11. It's been too long.

I've switched from my usual novel reading and have started reading a few plays. I find them, now, remarkably easy to follow, particularly compared to how I felt about them when I studied in school. The logical next step, of course, is to actually go to the theatre so I've just booked myself in to see a performance of The Price by Arthur Miller at a local theatre, and hopefully in a couple of weeks I'm going with a friend to see Private Lives by Noel Coward. And the local amateur dramatics society is putting on a performance of An Inspector Calls and I think I might just book myself in for that one too. Tickets are only £5, and it's within easy distance from my house. Could be interesting.

I'm kind of looking forward to writing a play. It feels like a good medium, comfortable even, strange as that sounds. I have an idea in mind, which needs a little honing (don't they always) but in line with what I said in my last blog, I feel kind of free and relaxed about it. And that's good.

Aside from tripping out to the theatre, I'm back in training for a long (ish) bike ride. On 19th June, I'm cycling 48 miles from Manchester to Chester in aid of a local children's hospice called Derian House. I'm hoping to raise a bit of money for them. I'm also hoping I can buck my current falling off trend, as I fell off last week (again) and banged my other elbow. It's bruised enough that even my manager, who notices nothing, noticed. Fortunately beyond the superficial damage, it is otherwise okay.

And today I am making my daughter a dress for her victorian day at school in a couple of weeks. I already made her a mop cap and apron which both look pretty good. Hopefully I'll get the dress right. I have no pattern, so will be making it up as I go along. It's a challenge, but fun. How hard can it be? (Don't answer that, please )