week 3 was a tough haul, and we emerged from it with the bare bones of a show, a draft 8 script and a hefty pile of sheet music – also to learn. As if to heap up reminders of the focus now required of us, our friendly builders start to construct a dirt barrage around the outside of our rehearsal space, slowly entombing us in a wall of shit.  From now on we’ll be fed with gruel through one of the cleverly designed hatches in the set.

The cruel sun lifts briefly above the horizon, if only to say goodbye. I feel myself going pale at the very prospect.