Some memories are so vivid, so powerful as to remain with us for all time. Occasionally, living on beyond our own existence. Those memories involving loss go deeper, scarring our conscience and creasing the moments of recall. We are all reluctant collectors of such moments. We seek no claim of them, yet deep down we know a life without loss is like a bag of chips without salt n vinegar. Just not worth the pickle.
Read MoreTime appears sometimes to sit on two different planes, connected orthogonally to one another. On one, it travels so fast so as to seem wired to the energy meter. On the other, sloth-like: easy to forget we were in lockdown at the start of the year.
Every year, I try to make the most of January and February: the sleeper months where the world feels like a town called ‘Sunday’. Prepare then, and you are able to bolt from the hatches in March. By the end of February, I had completed two read-throughs of two new plays. By March, I was once again editing when I decided to do something I had not done before: apply for funding to put on a play.
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