Wednesday Night 11.15pm

Back in the dung beetle bar. This time they’re playing football on the TV. Which implies an improvement. Today was better. We had from 2 until 8 to fix things. Omar arrived with all his technical stuff. The LED lights, projections for the wall, strange objects created by Gustavo, who has become the company artist, another of Omar’s team. Because Omar knows everyone.

I drifted around keeping an eye on things. At 5 the actors arrived and hung around for a while in the café before we did some work at 6. We began the run around 8. There was a small audience, which helped. The actors finally got some laughter feedback.

The run was technically fine. Hopefully they will continue to get better, day by day. So much of the actor’s work doesn’t begin until they get an audience. Thankfully it feels as though they’re in a strong enough position to be able to enjoy it. After seven weeks, as I told them, they should be.

A big steak has arrived. It’s Universidad de Chile 0, Gremio 1.

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When I lived here 15 years ago, I didn’t like the typical Uruguayan bars. With the bright neon lights and the dull laminate tables and none of the energy of a British pub. But now I’ve kind of fallen in love with them. A place you can wander into at anytime of the night, and know it will be three quarters empty, if not more; somewhere you can order a beer and a steak and chips for a fiver.

There’s five other customers here. An old guy with a tie reading the paper, and two couples, one of which just sent back their pizza because it didn’t have enough sauce. It’s now a quarter to twelve and there’s still four people working behind the counter, even if we’re down to the last mozo. I could stay here as long as I wanted, writing or reading or just observing, and no one would care.

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