Auditions tend to pass for me in a whirl of panic.

I forget names, I completely forget faces. I'm almost certain I warmly introduced myself to a boy on Monday whom I'd met only four days before. (Confirmed, I fancied, by his pitying look back at me.) I speak pointlessly, inanely. I fret that I'm wasting everyone's time. I rush, faster and faster, between The Rooms. I thank everyone incessantly.

Really, I ought to calm myself down and consider that if they get cast, they'll be doing a whole lot more waiting around than this before we're done. And so maybe one night, as a warm-up, isn't such a bad thing.

Monday. The first official auditions. Packed with both confirmations (not of the Catholic variety) and surprises.

Confirmation that we have some exquisitely talented people kicking about in this group.

Confirmation that we really can't be doing That badly if we're continuing to lure people from other very respectable theatre groups to come and audition for our productions.

Confirmation that my MD is a wizard.

And delightful delicious surprises including the most perfect (instantaneous) execution of my wild, rambling, lacking in insight or clear character understanding director's notes.

Wednesday. Was like Monday doubled. Some fine fresh boys and girls. And some (more) of our most brilliant existing actors.

Wednesday offered the bonus of being much better run thanks to the reassuring, calming and capable presence of my AD. (To whom also thanks.) I'm always humbled by her focus.

And then we had The Toilet Moment. Which was just a wow for anyone who had the privilege to be an auditory witness.

Slightly desperate by the end, I say to a(nother) brilliant Brutus and Cassius: "oh, but there are just too many of you! I could cast this brilliantly three times over."

And I've still got Saturday afternoon to go.

Lordy me.