I love my flatmate....

He's wonderful. He does just the right things at just the right moments. Last night he bought me flowers on the opening night of the play. Then he did front of house at late notice. And this morning, sat on the floor of the kitchen, drinking tea and eating brownies, its just lovely, having such good company. Soon we'll be acquiring another lovely flatmate too. He's a de facto one already, but it'll be nice for it to be official. I'm very lucky.

The de facto flatmate is picking up my dad from the airport tonight, bless him. I can't go myself, because I'll be too busy faking 20 different orgasms on stage...yes, you did read that right. I'm in the Vagina Monologues. Its been one the most liberating experiences I've ever had, sitting on stage, chatting about vag! I never would have imagined it, a real challenge, a change in the way I see myself. I finally understand why people get into stand-up comedy. It feels so good sitting there on stage, making 200 people laugh like that. Its only afterwards that I get the shakes. While I'm sitting there, demostrating the New Zealand moan (ah yeah, ahhh yeaahhh, ahhh yeaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh), or the doggy moan (pant, pant, pant), or the student moan (I should be studying, I should be studying, oh no my dissertation, I SHOULD BE STUDYING), I'm just in my element, loving it.

That said, I can't work out what on earth possessed me to invite my father to monday night's performance. He's a vicar for heaven's sake! The trickiest bit will be trying to convince him that its really not based on, ahem... fieldwork! Because, really, its not. But really, it doesn't seem that way when I'm thrashing around on stage, demonstrating 20 different orgasm sounds!!!