Cherry blossoms and a trip to the moon

I am glad I rode the Cyclone. Honestly.
But never again.  Let me just repeat that.  Never again.

Bill (and many others) obviously get a huge thrill and adrenaline rush from riding roller-coasters – but I am more than happy to get my rush from 75 minutes of being onstage alone with six wooden crates.

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Letters from America: Crates and a Washington Post

Mar 11th: Four New Crates (and a Suitcase) 

Bill has gone to his grandson’s birthday party in New Jersey, so I have Sunday to myself – to go for a good stiff walk in Patapsco Park and check out the cascades and waterfalls on another crisp, chilly but sunny day – and then after lunch to get to work accustoming myself to my crates – four new crates knocked up by Bill and his brother the other weekend.

I was so chuffed that they did this for me – because along with the wooden box I brought in my luggage and the small period suitcase that RADA in London loaned me, I can do the play pretty much as I have been doing it in the UK. I’m one crate and two pallets short, but the staging needs to be changed only a little.

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