Davy's on the road again

I have to admit that touring isn't such a good idea. Touring brings on stress. Will the sound work? Will the audience turn up? Will I turn up? It turns out that stress brings on 'pseudo-exacerbations'. These aren't relapses. They absolutely feel like relapses but they aren't. They are 'pseudo-exacerbations'. Pseudo? Pretend? There is nothing pretend about this. It's seems bloody real enough to me. My legs still hurt, my hands still sting, the pliers are still attached to my toes and all I really want to do is sleep.

Then there are the practicalities. Backstage in a theatre is not the ideal place to inject hamsters into the system. Most theatres have a cat for a start. Then there's the dressing rooms - full of dancers. There's nothing like a musician slipping out the back with a syringe to raise a few eyebrows. I was going to try doing it in the lighting box but all the technicians wanted in on the action...yeah man..is it good shit? Well as oriental rodent ovary cells go it's top stuff. In the end I just casually pulled out the needle in the dressing room. No one even bloody noticed. I dropped my trousers, stuck the needle in my thigh, counted to ten, winced a couple of times. Nothing. Not even a casual remark from anyone. Bloody performers. Too into themselves.

Next week we're off to Birmingham. That means taking a weeks supply with me...and finding a fridge to keep the medicine cold...must ring the theatre...have you got a cat and a fridge?