Oh, it’s the end-of-year madness, which, like all other things seasonal, comes early.

First of all, a massive grins all round as Venue Magazine released its judgement on the year’s best bits, rating May’s 24 Hour Plays at Theatre Royal Bath, run by the great Shane Morgan at Roughhouse  as 2nd best play of the year, coming runner up to Faith Healer at Bristol Old Vic. This great event included work by Adrian Harris, Simon Harvey Williams, David Lane, Katherine Mitchell, Carrie Rhys-Davies, and myself, and gave birth to No Milk, No Stamps, which gets to breathe some life in a longer version next year.

Secondly, I’ve just completed a rewrite (sigh) and feel ridiculously liberated. Yes, of course – it’s only a rewrite, but it does mean I don’t have to be thinking about the world of the play and living in the skins of its people every spare moment (as I have been). A big thanks to the guys at High Tide for this, as they cannily offered me some extra submission time in exchange for a completed draft.  Which leads us to…

Thirdly, I’m off on a retreat! Three whole days – three whole days – yes, three! (One per child, perhaps) To Write! In Suffolk! I cannot remember such an expanse of time. And yes, it’s being run by the aforementioned High Tide, who do a humungous amount of writer development, the marvels that they are.

‘Nuff said. Much to do before then. Like the accounts….

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