It will be a couple of weeks before we get to the bottom of it all, during which time there will be accusations and recriminations: who has not been cleaning their plates properly? I really don't think I have been here long enough to have contributed to the whole thing. They will come here to try to fix it and then they will come back to take it away, to give it a good going over. And then the news will come: there is nothing anyone can do, nothing anyone has done: cockroaches have eaten the motherboard and there's just no coming back from that.
I find the stress surrounding the untimely demise of the dishwasher, a particularly big problem for Staff who does most of the washing up, a decent distraction from the fact that today we are going to Artscape for the first time to tech the show, to meet Guy with whom we have been communicating for a few months, to sign contracts, to look at bookings for the first time: as co-producer I have been derelict in my duties avoiding this task. I am worried about audience numbers, I am worried that if the audiences are small it will mean that the audiences will be less at their ease and, therefore, not very.... keen on the show. This will make it a long hour and fifteen for them, but at least they can have a doze: it will turn into an eternity for me.
I have a word with myself: I have done this show... I don't know... 80 times, give or take. I can do the show, or at least I can do it to Martin's satisfaction, although I'm never comfortable using the words "Martin" and "satisfaction" in the same sentence. It's my role as co-producer and..... and.... probably being in South Africa, stalked by Kate, by everyone I've been here with who's no longer here or no longer Here, which are disturbing me.
It is a very, very hot day as team SILLMS, together with Mark and Zach in his pushchair, go over to the theatre. Because I am an idiot, despite knowing what a big and important venue Artscape is, I'd not really thought about going there at all. Our theatre space may be on the smaller side, but this place is enormous. In style it's not so very far from the National Theatre in London and as we skirt around, trying to find the stage door, the complex looms over us like a landship. We find Guy in the end and we make our way to the theatre and the strangest thing happens: instead of the frisson of excitement I normally get when I see a fabulous theatre space I'm going to get to play with, my blood runs cold. Maybe it's the rows of plush seats, maybe it's the stack of paperwork we have to start on, but I am rattled. I keep it to myself. Only when I have done all the signing with Guy, while the others mill about or have a feed (the baby) do we look at bookings. And that's it: that's the moment where the tidal wave of anxiety overwhelms me and... the wake of this landship pulls me under.
I stride across the room and tell Martin I need a word.... in private. We go out of the theatre, down the stairs and on the stairs I burst into tears. I think Martin is a bit surprised. Of course I will have to pull myself together again, go back into the theatre, get on with the tech, but for a little while I sob on Martin's shoulder. We agree to get on but to talk about later - it's not long before I have to jump in a cab and head for SAfm to do a radio interview about the show and about Actors for Human Rights - it'll be my second interview for Otherwise - they liked me so much the first time that they asked for more - that fact is going on my CV.
Team SILLMS continue the tech while I head for the studio in a cab, once we've got out of the Artscape car park that is. There is some filming taking place and I start to worry that I'll be late. You need to build in bumping-into-a-film-unit time whenever you attempt to go somewhere in a car in this town: they are everywhere, looking glamourous, holding up the traffic. And as we head for Seapoint I continue to wonder whether my motherboard has gone, or if it is recoverable.
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