Brinkmanship. Only brinkmanship.

I really really love having someone who knows what they're doing taking care of the costumes. I have a rubbish eye for all things visual (maybe aesthetic is a better way of putting it). I'm still slightly haunted by CCC for all sorts of reasons, not least of which was my vague attempt to create a colour palette that was, in the end, made manifest in no clear way. And my imaginative default for anything modern enough is blue jeans and black tops. 

So I contacted QMU back in April to see if they might be able to find me an amazing Chloe equivalent. A one woman walking wardrobe creator if ever there was one. Now, she - or her ilk - will clearly not come along every day but still, even a fraction of her imagination and energy and inventiveness and energy would be an undoubted asset.

July, I make contact again, hiding from the heat of Menorca in the air-conditioned house.

Yes, says the poor long-suffering but eternally kind course tutor, get back in touch if I don't when term starts again. 

I get back in touch at the end of August, just to be safe.

Few weeks to go, she says politely. Remind me again soon.

Two weeks ago, a flurry of emails. Yes, here's someone. Yes, she's brilliant. She'll just design but we'll see if we can find someone who can make. (I'll hungrily take anything / anyone by now. Maybe I could make..?????) I email the brilliant girl in question bursting with enthusiasm and love.

Errrrm, she says, crossed wires. And she put it much more nicely than this but essentially, if The Worst Comes To The Worst, she'll come to us. If no better offers come meantime.

I grit my teeth, reply with supportive understanding. And Wait. 

While waiting, I have a conversation with Jenni, my AD and safety net. "I'm wondering how long I should leave it before I give in and acknowledge I'm not going to get someone," I say. Jenni shrugs. Who knows the answer to that?

I mutter something in the cast's direction about cobbling something together from "what we have". No-one looks enthusiastic.

And probably less than a week and a half later, though I have counted Every Day as we are nearly into October and that means Two Months Just Two Months to go, an email from sweet Amy. When can we meet so I can brief her and the "maker", Charlie?

I reply with shameful speed.

And the next day, we meet. That night, I take pictures of all my not absent cast. The next morning, I send her them all. Thank you so much, she says. I'll get cracking.

What will you tolerate? And how long will you hold your nerve?

Piece of cake, directing.