We are done

Life goes on after Out Of Your Mind - altogether too quickly, which is why I'm only just writing this now. I had hoped to put up some of the great photos we took (mostly the ones Mary took) during the tour, or perhaps get some video footage sorted out. I still hope to. We all know how much in vain that hope actually is.

Quite apart from the wisdom received from our stories (platypuses are responsible for preventing armageddon: they will forget; pandas sometimes live in wheely bins; Keanu Reeves is sexier if you're wearing pearls), I've learned a lot from this year - for instance, it is possible to play a double glockenspiel concerto one-handed (although you do need a pretty good keyboard to do it on). Many people refuse to believe something's improvised, apparently preferring the idea that we wrote and rehearsed forty plus different stories in advance. You can deliver a lecture where you use small children to simulate thought processes - and it's indistinguishable from peer-reviewed scientific research. All useful knowledge.

My lasting impression of the Edinburgh run will be, I suspect, the image of a man in a lab coat, on a ladder, gazing down the Royal Mile, waiting for the next shift to arrive. I was the next shift; but now, we don't need one.

Forty four shows, six venues, four counties, far too many stories involving deus ex machina animals: this was our summer.

Now, it's winter. James and I are teaching improvisation workshops in Cambridge, and having mean thoughts about people we don't like. You'll be able to read some of them in our new diary, Uncertainty ... And So On. This one is over.