My second best friend (Yes, I’ve OD’d on Mr Freezes again) is a manic depressive two. Unlike me she’s gets more down than up. When together, our behaviour can swing both ways. When we’re both up, it’s pubs rather than coffee shops, we’re more likely to play knock door bunk on the latter, which wouldn’t work anyway as the doors are already open. I diverse. Drinking in swanky barsup west, or if one of us is ovulating then Whetherspoons, and surrounding tables seem to get further and further away.
The more ideas, goals and business plans we create, the louder we get, the higher our voices, sped up, interupting each other to the point we’re not even listening to each other anymore, we shake with excitement and fake fizz is flying everywhere. We once came up with a vision for a cabaret act and booked a six week run at a small London Theatre, two days before the ’grand opening’ we realised we hadn’t written it (we had an hour per show), rehearsed it, found costumes or music or anything, panicked and cancelled.
When just one of us is up, hmm.. by that I mean past the ‘fun stuff’ - the highs (feels like free exstasy and lasts even longer, but unfortunately so does the comedown) - past the mania - insomnia has increased, delusions kick in, start checking the house for hidden camera crews, opening bank statements feels like being sent down and people are ‘critisizing’ erratic behaviours and women are locking their husbands up - into psychosis. I can’t even describe that because I’m not present at the time. We have had to make the difficult decision riddled with guilt to admit the other into Butlins (my name for the ward. When they built a new ward at the Homerton East Wing they refused my suggestion of naming it ‘Butlins Ward’). Then.. when the section is over and we’re allowed to breath fresh air again, the other picks us up and lakes us to the pub for jagerbombs. Last time this happened I completely forgot I was at Butlins and forgot to go back. Police were out looking for me and called my next of kin about 20 times until he picked up. My next of kin was an old boyfriend - and it had ended badly - because I hadn’t changed my hospital details.
There is a plus side to this, when we finally did get a show together, we did an Edinburgh Fringe run, and shared a room in a flat. We created a cleaning rota based on our moods. Unfortunately, When Sheena was up she became very untidy, and when she was down she couldn’t be bothered to clear up. I gave myself stickers on teh rota in the hope she would see it as a reward system. She roached it.
When we’re both down we usually stay in our respected houses, which are the polar opposite (see what I did there) of London. Facing people on the tube is not an option, and the escalators are too long, and any eye contact along the way is like having a compass shoved in your eye. Life is safer under a duvet, but unfortunately changing a duvet requires the energy of Torville and Dean training for a, er, really long skating thing.
We do call eachother during this time the other one doesn’t pick up.
So what do we do? I’ve no idea!I guess the best option all round is creating seventeen business which we run from our stomaches, whilst doing the Aggadoo non-stop for fifty minutes in Whetherspoons. And if one of us is indeed ovulating.. Lucky man!
To read this in Huffington Post Comedy touch this..
http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/kerry-hudson/ovulating-in-wetherspoons_b_3719949.html?utm_hp_ref=tw
