New Year, new socks

This week saw the launch of my new range of drama offerings for kids and young people. A course on Macbeth, a course in performance drama (leading to a small show in Feb) and weekly drama classes for little ones. It was an exercise in blind faith, with bookings so few that I considered cancelling each in turn when the day arrived, only to be surprised three days running with extra bookings, last-minute new arrivals and - in one case - a recommendation from someone who had attended the night before. Most promising set of bookings is for Myriad, the sequel to Oddity which we performed as a live radio show in the summer.

My sister in law has been staying with us, so lots of chats about theatre and business and self-employment and not losing heart and starting out small and having the courage of your convictions and holding one's nerve. Useful and relevant. I have to keep reminding myself that this theatre stuff is what I love to do and it always comes back to that however many side roads I go down. All roads lead back here. It's T. S. Eliot all over again, dammit.

At present my desk is littered with fabric masks, three empty coffee cups, an Elizabethan-style money pouch (with no money in it), a couple of scripts, a book of Celtic prayers, a pile of unanswered correspondence, an electric stapler, two computer magazines, a pocket watch, stamps, a Windows XP installation disk, a wooden ruler, several house designs (don't ask), a pair of gloves, a letter from the Borders Hospital, a book by John Taylor Gatto about approaches to education, a torch, a pair of socks (new) and two passports. An installation of my life.