Night two. With Melbourne weeping like a postnatal mother last night, I was bracing myself to perform for an audience of three. But oh ye of little faith. SIX! Six audience members, I tell you! I am moving UP! They were delish. I wanted to smother them in chocolate and nibble on their lobes. We had a grand time together, even when my radio mic attachment commenced a dance with gravity down my tights mid-show. My recovery efforts brought new meaning to the term “an intimate audience.”
Then, at the end, the “Sexy Six”, as they shall now be forever known, blessed me with a standing ovation. I was so over the moon about it that I asked them if they’d mind waiting til I got my phone from backstage to take a photo. And thus, it was re-created!
But it ain’t all the performer’s dream of six bums on seats, baby.
Today my poor little man, who has unfortunately come down with a little headcold, accompanied me on a tear and tantrum riddled (with occasional glimpses of lovely) outing to Brunswick. (Where, incidentally, I used to live many moons ago when Miss 8 was just a wee babe.)
Fortunately the library turned out to be the winning ticket, we arrived just in time for the end of storytime, followed by butterfly making. Which of course, Cassidy was all over. For exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds.
I got to sneek a peek into some op shops (sadly, pouncing on bag sales is just not in the budget this year!) but I couldn’t help looking. And drooling. And drooling. I’m sorry Melbourne. I have now marked my territory. Just thank your lucky stars I chose the right end to do it from.