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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Last day of the Festival today, although slightly different from most years, in that two of the main venues, The Underbelly and The Pod, actually finished yesterday. So half of our friends have cleared off already and we've already had one "final" night. Facing another one is a very difficult prospect.

Even though we went to bed early last night (and by early, I do mean 5.30am) and I wasn't drunk at all when going to bed, I do feel decidedly odd today. All I can do is drink water - I've made a sandwich, but only managed to stare at it for a while. Water is the way today, I feel. My only real method of communication today is the text message, along with a hysterical laugh that threatens to turn to tears at any point. We've seen Jeremy Lion's show again today - it was the first show we saw this year, seems right to end on it as well. He made me cry with Mr Shush again.

It's been a really odd year. I thought it was going to be disasterous and end in tears (not the gay club in Exeter), but it's all turned out a lot better than that. I've enjoyed almost every last moment of it, hardly smoked at all (although I have a bit and won't again... after tonight), and even when it was really rubbish it was like living through the emotional turmoil of a pathetic soap opera, one quite badly written, ridiculously plotted and not particularly well thought through. But with beautiful costumes.

Two more shows left of the Festival. Then I'll get to sleep. More later, when drunk.

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