I've managed, until now, to get through the whole winter without having the flu or even a proper cold, despite the fact that family, friends and work colleagues have been suffering from some real stinkers.
And what happens the day before the big Poetry Nottingham reading? My throat starts feeling like someone sandpapered it in the night, and I can only speak like the love child of Joe Cocker and Bonnie Tyler. Without the Swansea accent, obviously. And the big hair.
At this rate, the audience will have to get pretty close to hear anything. I'm hoping that not speaking for the next 20-odd hours will do the trick.
5 comments:
Maybe if you channel Tom Waits, then everything will be okay.
I have scribbled love dreams lost and thrown away
I have this feeling something similar is going to happen to me the day before StAnza. There's nothing you can do but rest your voice, eat lots of honey and drink whisky before bedtime. Best of luck!
Try tying a sweaty sock around your neck... it works fro me... and by the way.. not talking for twenty hours... that's my idea of hell.......
oh, and btw... break a leg!!
Hope it went well... if it's any comfort, this appears to be the week when everyone got sick.
What's not talking for twenty hours like?
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