Reportage: A theatrical diary

I am by the downstairs bar of the Cottesloe at the National Theatre, waiting for a performance of The 14th Tale by Inua Ellams. Sitting opposite me at the table is a woman, black, early to mid 20s, wearing a mustard anorak, a green, knitted scarf, headphones and concentration.

In front of her is a grey, week-to-view diary, A5. In it, what appear to be tickets to upcoming theatrical performance, loose or paper-clipped to the relevant dates. And also, used ones, stapled to the third of the page for the day of the performance seen.

She lifts up one of these stubs, and underneath it, like a worm carving grooves into the earth beneath a rock, notes written in a silver ballpoint pen with black ink.

I couldn't spy what the notes said.

Why am I recording this? Mainly because it appears to have triggered a guilt pang: that I'm not systematic about recording what I watch, that I'm not diligent enough in capturing all the elements of my theatrical education, that I’m too impressionistic.

Maybe it’s her way of writing more, or a hedging strategy for her ideas. Either way, it feels like a good model to steal.