Thursday 16th 11.30pm

En tonces. My job is done. of course, its never completely done, but there shall be no more rehearsal. Which implies that this journal too has reached some kind of conclusion.

I remember, many years ago in England, perhaps around the last time I directed properly, talking to my friend, the one who's a successful theatre director, about production week. I explained how stressful I found it, generally finding myself painting walls or doors or fixing problems up to the very last minute. He said, having always worked at a more elevated level than myself, words to the effect of 'I love production week. You can put your feet up whilst everyone else is running around doing all the work.' The culture gap was vast. But this week, in spite of my inclination to fret, it has not been so different to his experience of things. I have been able to oversee, my mind reasonably free to focus on the things a director should be thinking about. It has been, more than I should ever have expected, enjoyable.

Tonight was the dress rehearsal. There were only two mishaps. One was that the lights cut out too early at the very end. After the first gracias rather than the second. Which shall not happen again. And the other is that, in scene 1, after making her first, false exit, Ana forgot to come back for her second. I'd guessed what was happening and was laughing as F sat solo on stage for far too long. In the end it was Miguel, the taciturn stage manager, who professes not to like theatre, who hissed at her to bring her running back. She's never done it before and I'm sure she'll never do it again, but rather than stressing me out, it made me laugh.

I guess in part that's in the knowledge that the play is robust. Things always go wrong in theatre, its part of its charm, but whereas before it used to freak me, I feel more relaxed about it now.

After the run I gave some notes. Then everyone went their separate ways. I ran into Carlos in a bar. He bought me a couple of whiskeys and we chatted about cinema for half an hour or so. His favourite film is Amarcord.

This time tomorrow the show will have ended, and I shall be feeling a mixture of relief, sorrow, imminent drunkeness, pleasure at being amongst friends and the inevitable tristesa that goes with the coming to an end of a little dream that has been lived for the past eight weeks.

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