The smell of toast

Our flatmates have arrived and they liked the smell of toast we had ordered in for them. They have proper coffee in a flash, unmarked, brown paper bag with them so I think the flat will, at the very least, smell like home. Not my home. My home can smell of toast and coffee, but more often it's a smell which is mysterious to me, as if something is there while I'm out. Sometimes my lodger is there while I'm out, but it's not her. She smells of clean hair, alcohol and youth. After more than a decade in the flat I always expect it to smell like home, but, well, it doesn't. It's odd.

Today's achievements include finding a chair for the show on the street. We think there were three of them, as we could see two women each with a chair like ours in the distance. A very Edinburgh Fringe experience - took me back to my days performing here as a student. We also have a glass for the show. Really, it's all go. Somebody asked me what it is we do when we're not actually doing the show. I think the show will be a nicely focused and relaxed occasion in comparison to this fevered activity involving charity shops, finding cafes with wifi, charity shops, liaising with our designer (our posters/flyers are yet to be printed. Eek!), and charity shops.

We have also registered Martin for the gym. He has gone this afternoon and I'm impressed. He woke up this morning with "no bones" and "all of them hurt", but he took extra arthritis drugs and things are a bit better now. I'm feeling pretty coldy and should be having a good lie down, I think. I've been sneezing and everything. I've not even registered for the gym and I've failed to find a pool. Pathetic. The guy with the arthritis and new heart valve is pumping iron and me with my little bitly sore throat and slightly hurty foot am contemplating bed.

The big news is I have now ordered our flyers, though, and that was terrifying. I realise that sounds like hyperbole, given that I'm doing a show about my own sister's murder, but I'm far more scared of having messed that up than drying in front of an audience... especially an Edinburgh audience... they're usually like a kitten: small and friendly. It's an interesting thought that I will not be in the position of performing this show to an audience which is smaller than the cast it is watching. Athough I sincerely hope there aren't too many days where I match my audience person for person.