Third rehearsal. I only had two of the actors as the third is on holiday or something. Unable to attend anyway. And I was kind of apprehensive about whether the three (mostly short) scenes that they’re in together would be enough to warrant this just for two rehearsal.

My mood was much improved by a sudden downpour just as I was leaving Tescos with my six mini pork pies (such a healthy diet – still haven’t quite got the hang of this work / rehearsal thing). And even though I had my big sturdy umbrella with me (on account of the sudden downpour on my way to work that morning), it was no match for the lashing rain.

A trifle early to the rehearsal, I tipped my boots out in the sink and wrung (wrang?) out my trousers. And padded around in the rehearsal rooms in my pants, door safely locked you understand, eating my pork pie. (God, she’s a classy chick.) And I was a little drier and dressed by the time Madeline turned up. Early, I noticed approvingly. Perhaps making amends for her late appearance on Sunday.

(I’ve cunningly thought – after earlier blogging disasters faithfully charted here - that I will refer to my actors by their character names and that avoids any obvious humiliation. Of course it won’t take a genius to come along to the show and work out who is who. But at least I don’t explicitly mention real names. Learnt that lesson with my actors before.)

So here we all are. Seven thirty and good to go. And we chat a bit about their characters. Swap some thoughts. Anthony says “you can tell I love this play. I’ve been thinking about it at work all afternoon.” We begin running little sections of scenes. I have brought a tennis ball so they can practice the miraculous apple catching scene. They practice and practice that. We got three catches in the end out of who knows how many failed catches. What potential for disaster. But at least I guess a real apple won’t bounce.

And it’s remarkable. The actors listen to what I say. They have all their stage direction written down from the last rehearsal. Know where they’re meant to be standing, where and when they exit. Anthony, three rehearsals in, knows half of his words including a couple of lengthy speeches. They listen when I suggest stuff and for the most part, try it out. Remarkable respectful times.

It helps that Anthony is a cracking actor. Handsome as you like and apparently utterly adorable too. He has a fiancé of course. What adorable boy of that age and respectability wouldn’t? And I think Madeline might shape up to be pretty sweet. She’s terribly young. 20 I think. And seems slightly shy about it all. But then she loves Sarah Kane and would like to direct 4:48 Psychosis so I have myself a companion in the Kane-loving camp there.

And they both speak sweetly enthusiastically about the play and how lovely it is. What more could I want? I remember at last why I loved directing.

They trot off home and I’m pottering around tidying cups and gathering my sodden clothing together. And suddenly I see to my horror that I haven’t zipped my trousers up. Clearly in my haste to get dressed after the showers. All night, padding round, happy as you like, with my trousers gaping open. Least I was wearing respectable pants.