Lay down the pen. Switch off the computer. Say goodbye to my fictional characters. It’s time to get a life.
Yes, I turned my back on my desk and did all of the above. For one day at least I was no longer a writer immersed in my fictional characters’ lives. I was living a life of my own.
So what did I do?
Well, it was simple really. I went on a family outing to the Edinburgh Playhouse to see the musical show, Dirty Dancing. And it was fabulous, even if Gareth Bailey who was playing Johnny Castle didn’t quite portray the same amount of sexual charisma that Patrick Swayze did in the film. But there was enough, and anyway who could ever match up to Swayze. But then I’m biased because I have never been able to forget the sheer animal magnetism Swayze portrayed in the film.
And, of course, the dancing. It was marvellous, although again, I think the dancing in the film was a mite more voluptuous and sexier.
It was a great show though, and the only thing that spoiled it for me was the group of women who came to sit behind us at the interval, apparently moved from the balcony because one of their number was scared up there. Full marks to the Edinburgh Playhouse staff for their response to this problem. But black marks to the group who conversed loudly while the show was on, sang along with all the songs, and whooped so loudly every time Baby and Johnny came together, whether it was a clinch or a dance, that they almost deafened me. My ears are still ringing.
Great show, and I’m already thinking about how I can include the rowdy group into one of my books. Maybe they’ll meet a grisly end!