Wellies aren't really designed for walking long distances, I have discovered, especially when it involves stomping up steps and slithering down cobbles. They're part of my costume so I have been wearing them a lot of late and they have started to chafe a bit. In fact I shall be wearing them tonight when Dan Woods and I attempt to step into the far more glamorous shoes of Miss Tricity Vogue and host the Ukulele Cabaret at the Three Sisters.

Talking of walking. Two thirds of the way into our run and we had our first walk-out. An arrogant man swanned in late after our first song bearing a tray of drinks for his friends, who were sitting in the far corner of the room. Five minutes later and he scuttled out like a woodlouse, muttering to our stage manager that our show was "not my type of comedy". He was still outside waiting for his friends, who had stayed put, when we trotted out. I gave him a disdainful look but I suppose vegetable cultivation-based musical comedy is not everyone's bag of compost. He may well have been disgusted and upset by the lack of fruit in the show.

I had a harrowing morning today - no vegetable cultivation-based pun intended. I went to see Sold a powerful and moving piece of theatre about human trafficking. Everyone should go and see it. I emerged in despair at the state of the world and then had to gird my loins and do some flyering round the Pleasance Courtyard. Funny songs about growing vegetables, anyone?