Actors and trainers both know about Dr. Greasepaint. It’s what happens when The Show Must Go On. You slap on Dr Greasepaint and somehow you manage to put on a show.
I’ve been working in Manchester this week, with people who came from all over Europe to work with me and learn about Six Thinking Hats and Lateral Thinking . Not to see slideshows of my lovely Flora, mop my tears, or listen to me talk about the other things that are pre-occupying large amounts of my mind and heart at the moment. (You know how bad luck comes in threes? Well, this family has definitely had the three in the last fortnight.)
So I went to Dr Greasepaint and the show went on. And I might not have done the best job that I ever did, but I can say with my hand on my heart that I did a good job. I maybe even did a really good job. I’ll do my best to do a really good job tomorrow, too, on a there-and-back to work with a project team for an afternoon in the midlands.
This is my inbetween day. I’m doing bits of admin and sorting, and later I’m off to imagine an alternative universe in which Daniel Craig is devoted to me, me, only me see the Bond film with my family.
It will be a nice, quiet day; it will be a reminder that I need to take the greasepaint off now and then, and let my soul breathe, and say: I will be glad when this trying time is over. Even though sometimes it would be easier to keep the greasepaint on.