Loads of people have come to the auditions.

I thought, really thought, that by Saturday, aside from the one chap I knew had been previously on holiday, that this might be it. The choice of who does what might be (relatively) easy.

So I arrived on Saturday to the audition premises with a cursory optimism that I'd see L and then skip out into the sunshine, perhaps stepping off to enjoy a little jazz in the Grassmarket with a favourite lady and her dad.

But no.

Wait.

How the door bell keeps ringing.

How people keep slipping into the room when my cursory back is turned.

And the bastard thing turns into a proper bumper audition session.

Shuffling paper losing the pieces I need (or were they never there?) cleverly (finally it dawns on her) writing Things Down so I Have A Record of who's doing what (there's a clever plan I must endeavour to remember) and is there anything else that you'd like to read that you feel that you haven't..?

And done.

Aside from The Great Decision Making.