Fall Apart

I'm  sure I have enthused on my blog before about my love of Autumn. How it stems from my childhood days in the back bedroom above the shop in Yorkshire, where the curtains were a little thin and the dark nights meant that no light would flood through them as I tried to settle down to sleep.

Next weekend the clocks go back and Autumn and then Winter will be upon us. I'm not quite sure where this year has gone — a sign of growing older I am told  as each year becomes a smaller fraction of the life that existed before it -  and yet here we are in the last quarter of 2012 hurtling towards whatever festivities you choose to celebrate in mid-December!

The last week has felt particularly autumnal. Richard has been in Australia, working hard, but at least having the fringe benefits of walking about Melbourne and Sydney in 27° sunshine. He spent Saturday on a luxury boat pottering around Sydney Harbour, as we endured rainfall and wind.

I've had a busy week. The play, written by Debbie Manship, that I have been directing for Cancer network had a very successful performance in Taunton on Thursday lunchtime. Thanks to three great actors, and a fantastic piece of writing, it had the required effect  provoking discussion and emotion in equal quantities. Due to budgetary restraints (!) I also played the role of sound operator. I have to confess that this did appeal to my inner geek. An app on my iPad allowed me to create a sound control desk, with all the music cues and sound effects for the twenty minute piece available at just a single tap. Nerve racking though, as you sit discreetly to one side, index finger poised and ready to create a bus, heavenly voice, or a radio broadcast as required. Mercifully my fingers were on good form, and  although the bus may have proved surprisingly loud for the actors, everything went well.

The week has seemed long without Rich here. There comes a certain point each evening, when the post-work e-mails are out of the way and when supper has been prepared, eaten, and cleared away, that the quiet companionship of our relationship is all that I want. And this week it's been missing. The hours between 9.30pm and bedtime  have stretched long and empty, so that my one night away in a Taunton guesthouse posing as a hotel was a welcome break from the quiet of our own flat.

Richard is back today, no doubt jet lagged, exhausted, but hopefully proud of what he's achieved in his week's work down under. It'll be a little while longer before I find out.

In three hours I'm off to Paris  on the Eurostar for a couple of days work, so the big reunion will have to wait until Tuesday night.

It'll be worth it.