I darted along to the SCDA Play library last night to return some scripts and the aged librarian in his cardie welcomed me warmly, proclaiming that I (some twenty minutes before closing time) was the first person that had been in all day. I had to sign a special book to prove it.

He spoilt the welcoming aura slightly by following it up with a "well you see, everyone's get their festival shows already so there's a wee lull". I wondered if he was mocking me.

Well I didn't get any of the people I wanted coming along yesterday.

In fact, I didn't get anyone at all.

Bleak times for an audition.

The only good point was that I was able to seize the opportunity to cleanse the mouse-infested tea cupboard.

Fellow users of the facility thoughtfully pointed out that it had been gnawed weeks ago.

Dear kind Christelle and Margaret (infrequent users of the facility) decanted everything into tins.

I was able to put the finishing touches of cleanliness with a swipe of pine scented disinfectant.

As my friend Mr Neill said, mice don't scuttle around clean cupboards.

I'm still hoarse as a dry-throated snake in the desert today so resorted to emailing a nagging email to this super-organised agent.

The early booking deadline for the Fringe programme is 2 April which saves the best part of a hundred squids. So I'm keen to submit my info by then - but less keen if I don't have a play.

I checked back through my email correspondence. I got an email from this guy at the agent's office on 16 March passing my details onto someone who would deal with the paperwork. Still haven't heard anything.

I tell you, if we did business this way, we'd soon have next to no clients.

I have lost my voice. It is a startling and distressing experience. On Friday, when it began most noticeably to falter, it was inconvenient but did get me a certain amount of sympathy.

Yesterday, pottering around town trying to perform some basic errands, it was mildly amusing. I whispered to my optician that I'd come in to pick up my contact lenses and she said "you know, it's really hard not to whisper back..."

I think the guy in Dragon Way thought I was mocking him when I went in to pick up my singapore fried noodles.

Today it is infuriating. I am actively avoiding any kind of social interaction. Which isn't a bad thing as I'm at last defrosting some of the contents of my freezer. But unusual by my standards.

I tell myself that I should take this quiet time as an opportunity to understand the hidden depths of "Tiny Dynamite" before next weekend's auditions.

Unfortunately I am rather sidetracked by Justin Cartwright's lovely "Pursuit of Happiness".

I have a presentation at work tomorrow. Nothing earth-shatteringly important you understand but it would be nice to be able to speak my own words. Above a whisper.

My friend Mr Neill observed (when I silently attended a brilliant production of The Boyfriend on Friday evening) that colds always seem to seize my throat.

Someone trying to tell me something I'm sure.

Irrelevant but lovely. Apparently the world's tallest wooden house.

At last, a flicker of good news.

"Abi says it's fine" apparently.

And now the most helpful agent has passed my enquiry on to someone else who will apparently deal with the logistics.

Getting there...

Yesterday I called the agent again. He said he'd call Abi and call me straight back. I wait on....

And still, still, still, no word from Mr Agent. Exceppptionally frustrating.

The matriarch has decreed that I must audition as soon as possible as otherwise, people will be snapped up for other shows.

So an audition date has been set for the last Sunday in March.

So come one. Come all.

Assuming you're a twenty-something girl or a thirty-something boy.

And assuming I get my performing rights.

We caught "Mrs Warren's Profession" at the Lyceum this afternoon. Cleverly I (again) managed to sleep through a chunk of the first act. Still, my sleepiness wasn't aided by a leaving night the day before (farewell quiet / sullen boys!) and a money-saving booking in the Grand Circle boxes which left me with possibly the worst view of the stage in the entire theatre.

I guess it depends on how whatever it is staged but this production saw the actors spending much of their time just under my sightline from box F. Luckily my comrades were rather more fortunate in box C and faced most of the action. Given that I had booked the tickets, I suppose it was only fitting.

I snuck into the back of the Grand Circle for the second act, alongside Ross who fortuitously had two empty seats alongside him.

I notice I failed to mention a rather super outing (as Brian would describe it - had he been there) to Manchester a couple of weekends back. Ross and I went down to see The Vortex at the Royal Exchange Theatre. It's a cracking theatre. I can see why the aforementioned Mr Neill raved about it.

They flew chandeliers in and out by way of scene changes. Our more erudite companions realised that the striking black and white tiling on the stage area perhaps alluded to a vortex. At almost the climax of the play, the middle of the stage elevated and finished by rotating. They must have budgets I will only ever be able to dream of. Or maybe this is regular fixture with a theatre that doesn't accommodate much by wayof scenery.

It was a nice little play. Great part for a dissolute young man. It would suit Ross beautifully. The lead lady was excellent. Will Young - the main point of the trip of course - struggled through manfully but wasn't quite up to the challenge. But he is adorable so we forgive him. I would have run round to the stage door like a groupie but felt our erudite companions might frown on this. Next time.

Still haven't heard from my agent. Is it time to name names and use the blogosphere to shame him into replying..?