Friday evening was spent at the theatre – the final evening show for ‘25/The Decriminalisation Monologues’ at Outhouse.  Having written one of the monologues – ‘The Number’ –  I had found it very difficult to watch my own piece initially. I was feeling a touch self-conscious and insecure about it. Not by Friday however. I had gotten over my nerves and was able to sit back and enjoy the entire show. It was a privilege to be included in this project. It is important to remember how different this country was in the very recent past – how cold, hard and cruel it was to anyone who fell outside the boundaries of what was considered ‘normal’ by mainstream society. How it crushed many people. But how people resisted and pushed back, eventually transforming the social landscape. I hope there will be continued life in ‘The Decrminaliation Monologues’ as it gives an insight to young people  about those who fought, although their struggle is largely unknown to younger people.

I was treading the boards myself on Saturday as part of the Dublin Bloomsday Festival. Two performances completed. Bloomsday is a Dublin holiday where the city celebrates the book ‘Ulysses’ by James Joyce. I was part of a band called ‘The Druidy Druids’ (name taken from characters in the book.) We had rehearsed a set of about forty minutes. Having a singing voice that resembles cats in a blender, I was not singing myself. My role was to read passages from the book related to the Joyce inspired songs. We performed at the James Joyce Museum in Sandycove. Then onward to a restaurant called ‘Juggy’s Well’ in Glasthule, where we performed for the patrons. I was upstaged by Joyce’s grand-nephew who dropped by to sing a song with us. I was slightly awestruck. It seemed to go down well – at least judging by the response of several toddlers watching the show. They watched us silently – this is a good omen when it comes from this segment of an audience, who can be quite vocal in their disapproval when faced with a show they don’t enjoy. I was happy to see a ninety-six-year-old gentleman singing along to the pieces.  He was on a trip out with his seventy-year-old son. They stopped to watch us. I hope he has a good Father’s Day today.

My shows over I returned to town and put on my glad rags. I had a ticket for ‘An evening of Burlesque’ at the Button Factory, The Irish Burlesque School were having their annual show. My friend has been taking classes, so I went to show my support. Great fun. There’s no business like show business, particularly when it comes to shimmying and shaking in sequins and feathers and tassels.
Today the plan was to do some housework. I have failed. Failed utterly to achieve this goal.