After weeks of filling my bus journeys and gym sessions with trashy literature, I decided on Monday that it was time to turn to the 12th Night.

So I trudged along to the gym with script in hand. Feeling very blase about how easy it was going to be to learn my not very many lines.

But then I took my faithful seat on the exercise bike and tried my hardest to learn my first speech. And struggled like a struggling thing.

I conveniently blamed the fact that my Sebastian lines aren't written (yet at least) in iambic pentameter. Whereas my previous Shakesperean foray was largely pentametered which I'm sure made it easier to learn.

Having made a raft of excuses for myself, I snatched the script up resentfully this morning and set off with it for my (missed, so more time for study) bus. And made better progress.

So maybe the only lesson is trying to learn Shakespeare with a thumping base line drumming away in your ear isn't the best plan.