By Friday last week, I was the tiredest girl in the world. I crawled through work, thanking the lord again that I hadn't made much of a fuss about the competition at work so people would write me off as Friday dozy rather than irretrievably exhausted.

Friday's One Act Play festival entries were an interesting collection. We had the Mercators presenting a non-competitive version of the "Inimitable Dickens". I slept through a large portion of this, meaning absolutely no disrespect to those involved as it was very nicely put together and Susan and John in particular did a lovely job. But I had just necked a large glass of white wine in Spiers Bar so I would have slept through almost anything.

Then we had the "Holy Cow" theatre group with a self-penned piece discussing issues of gender. They're an Indian group and it was beautifully colourful. Some lovely acting. But overall, whilst a good effort, I wouldn't have described it as brilliant theatre.

Then we had St Serfs Theatre Group with an absolutely cracking (first amateur) performance of a new play, premiered in last year's Fringe, called Ae Fond Kiss. It was brilliantly acted, nicely directed, perfectly adequately staged with some really lovely comic moments. I spent most of the play coveting the lapdancer's shoes worn by the "ageing" prostitute (which I subsequently find are from New Look so I shall be paying that store a visit sharpish.)

I had been pessimistic about our chances in the competition from the outset and kissed goodbye to any kind of anything approaching victory having seen this.