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The Coronalogues
The Coronalogues

Season 2, Episode 4 · 5 months ago

Catching Breath

ABOUT THIS EPISODE

A woman trapped in a toxic relationship is driven to extreme measures. 

1 City, 1 Year On, 5 More Stories.

A restauranteur contemplates losing her career, a conspiracy theorist uncovers a strange plot, a young girl writes to a TV judge, a woman attempts a daring escape from a marriage and the City of Edinburgh finally addresses her own.

A second series of interconnected tales from a time like no other…

For The Coronalogues

“…a warm heated portrait of ordinary humanity…” The Scotsman.

“McAllister depicts contemporary urban life with flair and a witty sense of humour steeped in realism” The UpComing

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The coronalogus in the second wave,Chapter Four. Catching breath, I think I've murdered my husband. Okay,maybe not technically murder. I mean he is dead, but it might notbe murdered. Perhaps I mean the other one, man slaughter. That soundsworse somehow, doesn't it? I'm mad slaughtered my husband. That sounds moreviolent, more messy, like I used to saw or something. In anyway, I think that man slaughter is when you actually didn't intend to killsomeone, and I did. I did definitely intended to do it, whetherit was a murder or not. I killed him. I plan to doit. I'm just surprised it worked. I got married because I was flatteredthat someone eventually asked me. Thirty seven years old and he was my firstserious relationship. I was speaking to think it would never happen. My parentswere twenty when they got married. They still are married, not happily.I don't think that they've ever been happy. I'm really not sure they even aspiredto be happy, but they're married all the same and neither one ofthem has the imagination nor inclination to not be. What I'm saying is myexpectations of marriage weren't high and just wanted to be happy. Unhappiness suit somepeople. I think the idea of being in a state of happiness terrify them, because then they'd have to acknowledge the amount of time spent not being it. I know something of how that feels, to actively avoid being happy because you'reafraid it would somehow undermine you, make a mockery of all your lifechoices today. So you weigh your miseries or your entable to it as thoughit's evidence of something to be admired. He was like that, not atfirst. I don't think he was even kind once. I think he musthave been before we got married, when I was something to be gained andnot something he had. has went so long. Also, it's difficult toremember the good things about a person after they've damaged you so much, evenwhen you know they must have had something of goodness about them. Otherwise,why was I ever attracted him in the first place? The only other explanationI can think of is that I was...

...completely bloody trippid, because I knowI wasn't bad. I wasn't attracted to bad men. People will tell youI don't have a bad bone in my body, recent events aside, obviously, even then, and this is a thing you see, I don't feelbad even now, quite the opposite, in fact. That's it's awful,doesn't it? It's not like that. It's not like it sounds. Iwas saying, wasn't I? Oh, he was either good at some pointthat my subsequent misery is blocked out, or are the only other explanation.I was am thick as munt. I don't know which is the worst truthto live with, to be honest, that you're snuffed all the goodness outof someone like some kind of needed a mentor, or that you spent halfyour life and utter misery because you got the emotional intelligence of a dinner plate. Either way, it's not living your best life, is it? It'sreally not instagrammable. He never hit me. I should also say that sometimes Iwished he had, because maybe something might have happened then if he had, might have given me the courage to leave him. Sometimes I think I'dhave preferred the immediacy of violence than the trip, drip, what to torture, of missoganist mind games. And I'm I'm not trying to minimize physical abusein any way. Please don't hear that. I don't want to compare my experienceagainst anyone else's. What I mean is the thing I hate the mostlooking back, as the length of time I allowed myself to believe that thisis what I deserved. What was surprising was the immediacy by which things changedafter we got married. It was literally on the first day of our honeymoon. We went to a kind of large thing on the side of a lock. I'd organized it, paid for it. It was like one of those holidayhome time share things, and we'd only gone for a few nights anyway. When I told him about it, he's seemed surprised by the very conceptof a honeymoon. Sounds like a lot of bother, he said. I, hilariously, was all looking forward to it. I was so excited ourfirst time a way together. I thought it would be romantic, sexy,intimate. So we get there, he walks and discovers the place doesn't havea TV. Start Shouting, screaming how we supposed to stay in a placewhere no TV? What we supposed to do? I see, baffled andhurt. I've booked as horse riding lessons tomorrow and he gives me this look, a look of pure hatred and rest sentiment. He walks back to thecar, gets in and sits in silent I'm just baffled. It's our honeymoon. I try and speak to him. He completely ignores me, doesn't evenlook at me. Eventually I put the suitcases back in the car and wedrive home. He doesn't utter a word, not just on the journey back,he doesn't utter another word to me for two whole days. That's howmy marriage began, just like that, and that was a high point ourfifth wedding anniversary. Obviously hadn't learned a thing by this point. I puta table at a posh restaurant. Again,...

...he acted like this was some actsof a stravagant indulgence. I caught my hair Dune, bought a newdress. Face full of slap, he turns up straight from work in apaint splatted added as track suit. Oh, I wish I was joking, butno, wait, it gets worse. We get served the starter. Hetakes one mouthful and spits it back out onto the plate, gets upand walks out. But look, I'm not here for your sympathy. I'mnot sure I deserve it, as certainly I don't want it. I'll lookback and points at the things I allowed myself to put up with. OfI clunch in my own cowardice. I know I shouldn't, but I can't, or your sympathy won't make me feel any better. If anything, itwill compound it. I've not come to you with an abuse story. Thisis a confession of sorts. Not that I'm looking for salvation either, morerecognition. I want the credit. In fact, this is a reckoning,a revenge story. This is more killed bill than Angela's ashes. Please bearthat in mind. I'm done being the victim, so don't see me asone. Please try and do that for me. But for context, Ineed you to understand the level of evil bastardness were dealing with you. Sono particular order. He's a top five of the worst of his behavior thatI can bring myself to mit to from the last fourteen years. They're notin any order and I swear I'm not making any of this up. Okay, a number five and old favorite. He systematically cut me off from allmy family and my friends. I mean, it's so cliche, but I lethim do that. I mean, it's the first play in the abuseshandbook. It's so obvious. When my mother died, he even refused tocome to the crematorium and try to prevent me from going to it. WasOne of the few times I completely disobeyed him. Then he shows up atthe week doesn't he drunk, of course, angry. At one point he wasdancing on top of the table singing Ding Dong. The Sea word isdead. Number four, he killed the neighbor's cat, not even my cat, the neighbor's cat I wasn't allowed to pet. Ever, that was veryfirmly established in our first year of marriage, along with why we would never behaving kids. Could you imagine what type of mother I would be?I couldn't be a mother. I mean, look at me. I might makesense for my salary to be paid into the joint account, but nothis. He's a man of the house. That's what I signed up for.That was in the legal contract of marriage. Was I trying to sayI didn't trust him? Because if that was what I was saying, Iknew where the effing door was. Pets were simply moving ship machines for peoplewho were either mentally deficient and morally questionable. Then we got new neighbors and theircats took a liking to me and used to come and visit me inthe evenings. I bought treats for it. It would stay for a couple ofhours, curled up on my lap putting away, and then eventually yawnand trot off home. He never knew about it for a while because he'dsit in the front room watching the only telly that was allowed in the house, where I stayed in the kitchen, supposedly tidying up, but really justavoiding him. He never came into the kitchen unless it was to piss outthe back door into the garden when he was too drunk, or can bebalded climbing the steps the toy it. He also did it because he knewI hated it anyway. Inevitably, he caught me one night with a cat. I was sitting there just droking him under the Chin. He loved thatand he was making the noises you make when you pat a cat or youlove that you're such a good pussy cat,...

...what a good kitty. And on. I looked up and he was there, motionless, standing in thedoorway, just looking at me. I've no idea how long you've been there. So I jump. I'm ready for the shouting and eff and in theseeing to start. But he he just doesn't see anything. He walks pastme, opens the back door, pisses mostly on the kitchen floor. Thenwhat's back into the living room and for a second I allow myself to thinkhe's allowing me this, he's allowing me this little bit of love and lightin my life. Then the cat doesn't come back and the neighbors come rounda day later and asked me if I've seen their cat and tell me howthe sex. Your daughter's devastated and won't stop crying, and have to lookthem in the Iron See, I've no idea what happened to their poor kittyand I hope he comes back soon. When, of course, I havea pretty good idea what happened to a cat. I kept telling myself itwas a coincidence, but I knew then he done something. And a weekgoes by and something happens that leaves not a doubt in my mind that hewas a sponsible. He was mid shouting at me. I can't remember whatforward and we'd reach a point in the routine where he reminds me where thefing dors in. My line was, I'll go, then I'll just go. Then his line is either to where you've got no money, where you'regoing to go, your fat cow, or option to go on. Then, in fact, I'll help you pack before storming upstairs and throwing what fewbelongs he allows me to have into the hall or out the window till Ihave actually break down crying, and he calls me Pitiphil, which, tobe fair, I am, and then he goes back to the telly orout to the pub and I'm left to put my broken things away again.We acted out this drama two three times a week. Most weekends we didmatt any performances, so I was surprised when he deviated from the script.I delivered my online impeccably. Maybe I'll go, then I'll just go.And he stops dead and this smile I'm furls across his face like one ofthose aliens from Aliens I'm furls off a ceiling and I see this terrible darktwinkle in his eye and I know whatever it's going to be next is goingto be horrible. But he says slowly, deliberately, has tongue slipping over everysyllable, but won't you Miss Your Wee Pussy cat? And at numberthree, he banned me from singing, not just singing in his ear shot, singing full stop. And it's not like I was builting out Karaoke numbers. Occasionally I would wear headphones around the house and occasionally I would get caughtup in the music and unconsciously sing along. He told me I was embarrassing myself, that I had ruined his favorite songs, which I find surprising.I didn't know he knew any songs other than sectarian football chance, he said, and I quote, if you have any love or respect for the mediumof music at all, you should never sing again. Number two, heforbid me from watching Coordination Street. Now, as I've already said, he hadfull control of the One TV in the house, but I discovered Icould watch some stuff through APPS on my phone. I took a while forhim to catch on that I could do this and a while more to care. The point that he did was when he became aware of a storyline featuringa character who behaved in much the same ways he did. One day hecame in from work and ask me if I've been watching it. As itturned out, I had. I was never a cordy fan, but I'dread about the storyline in a magazine and and had deliberately tuned in anyway.He was more angry than he'd been in some time, but when he realizedI knew exactly what he was talking about,...

...said it was giving me ideas,that he didn't want our marriage to be poisoned with such filth. Heactually said that. Before I reveal number one, and I should say numberone is my personal favorite, for reasons that will come obvious, I shouldaddress the fact that I know what you're all thinking. It's the same question. Why did you put up with this? I only answer his look around.How many happy people do you know, I mean truly happy? None ofus know what we're doing, what it's all for, especially now,at the moment, I find myself constantly shocked at the degree of misery thehuman spirit can become accustomed to. This was my normal. I didn't knowanything else. I didn't know one. I'll turn it reality, to wishfor and to hope for. He was right. Where was I going togo also filled disclosure. I did not obey him all the time. Iobeyed him when I had to, and I did it for an easy alife, not because I feared him. Didn't actually fear him. It wasa twenty two stones smoker with ass. If it came to it, Ireckon. I could have taken him. I could have certainly run away.I never feared him physically. I feared walk I would be without him,and all that sounds insane, but it's true. That's how low my opinionof myself was. I let myself come to think that I was better withhim than without still, I allowed myself moments of delicious rebellion. I continueto sing under my breath in the house. I diligently watch call a nation streetand my lunch. However, I had to. I went out ofmy way to be extra nice to all possible cats. One afternoon a weekI will go to the Margy cafe in time for lunch and I'd stroke cats. I was spine. These moments of pleasure when my report to myself andenduring him, and I relish them. They made everything bearable. But thencame as number one, my favorite, because this is where the seeds weresown for what was to come. His numeral UNO, evil bastard pst resistance. He became a trump supporter purely to annoy me. Now, my husbandwas stupid, like enormously thick. It gives me no pleasure to admit that, because it makes me all the more pathetic. This is a man whowants nearly burned down the house because he tempted to reheat a pizza in theother it was still in the cardboard box. A man who somehow acquated reading bookswere being homosexual. He had no interest in politics, none whatsoever,until the day I openly proclaimed my dislike for trump. I regretted it themoment it came out my mouth. I had long since they're not to expressany emotion about anything. It only gave him opportunities. He done something trump, I mean, I can't even remember what, but it was something shocking, and this was before he was even elected. It was on the newsor radio and I happened to mutter under my breath, I just can't standthat horrible man. And that was that. He, and that moment, becamea trump supporter and he batted me over the head with that bloated orangestump. For the next five years, he started watching the news. Henever watched the news, but he started...

...insisting I watched with him just soI could hear his remarks about how trump was a visionary and that the bestPresident America had ever seen, parting the same delusional hogwash that trump himself wascoming out with. He ordered a Maga hat off the internet make America greatagain. He's never been out the country. Every evening would come home from work, take off his jacket, put on his Maga hat and sit infront of the telly. And at some point his faked interest in this pulsivebeing became a true and fatuation, not but because he agreed or even understoodhis politics, but because trump being trump somehow validated heace behavior. The veryfact that the most powerful man in the world could act like that and saythose things give him permission to act like that and say those things. Ifirmly believe that trump would have liked my husband. I don't say that lightly. That is a terrible thing to say about anybody. His Fun natical supportfor trump became another weapon in his campaign and misery against me, but aftera while it became repetitive and boring, just like all the others. EventuallyI just nodded along when he went on one of his trump rands. Iwould not allow him the pleasure of knowing how much has malignant hero worship gotunder my skin. But he knew, I'm sure he knew. And thenout of nowhere came covid I was terrified, not the disease of the lockdown.It's suthing happened that we were both furlough to on the same day withoutany warning. The only way my life was at all bearable was being ableto escape to my work, being able to have my free lunch times todo what I wanted to, be able to have my precious twenty minutes walkto and from work every day. I I could cook with all of itif, and only if, I was allowed my brief escapes. The ideaof being locked in the House with him for an unknown amount of time wasnot torment I could tolerate. I remember just crying uncontrollably when they announced it. I went into our back guard in the stank of his person, Iscreamed at the sky. I could just be fair. This was beyond whatI could bear what anyone could be expected to bear, and occurred to meright there for the first time. It hit me like a rock to thehead. No one cared. Literally no one knew nor cared about how awfulI felt, how desolate my life was. I was nothing, no one.I couldn't even bring myself to hope anymore. Those first few weeks oflockdown but among the worst of my life. He, unsurprisingly, was livid atthe situation. He didn't take well to being told what to do thebest of times, but now that his life was being dictated to buy afake virus straightened up by liberals who are trying to bring back socialism. Hehad no idea what socialism was. He was in candescent with a scarlet ragethat was furious even by his own standards. In his own words, not enoughsea words. It died for this to be allowed to happen, andas the numbers of some steadily grew, so do the amount of times aday he would repeat this. It became his mantra. He saw the wholeglobal pandemic as a personal vendetta designed to inconvenience him, and he banned mefrom complying in any way with the restrictions. This, of course, was pointless. I've been effectively socially isolating for the best part of fourteen years.It's not like ad options. For the...

...first time, and I don't knowhow long, he volunteered to do the weekly shop, not out of kindnessor even boredom, but for the sole purpose of provoking a screaming argument withanyone who dared to challenge his democratic rights, to not sanitize his hands, notwhere a face mask or try and keep his distance. He went toantimass Rallys in Hollywood park. He protested outside the Scottish Parliament, protesting againsta pandemic. I told you he was stupid, but it's anger became bigger, exhaustingly unrelenting, all day every day, when no end in sight, Iplunged into a depression. I fell further than I'd ever done before,smothered myself in a wet, cold tale of melancholy. And it was there, right in the midst of that wretchedness, that a terrible but genuine thought ranthrough my head. I would rather cantch covid they go through lockdown.I wanted it to tell me honestly couldn't imagine it would be any worse inthe agony I was already in fact, it would be a release. AndI held that awful, terrible thought for the second at the very forefront ofmy mind. And something happened. I watched a transform right in front ofme. I saw it morph into an idea and then it paused for asecond only, and then then it took shape and mutated once more. Andsuddenly, just like that, for the first time in fourteen years, Ihad a plan. I'm not saying it was a good planet. Was aterrible plan, I see that now, but I had nothing to lose,you see, and I had everything to gain. I was so abysmally unhappythat this seemed like the rational thing to do, and I make no apologiesfor it. I mean, it worked, didn't my plan was to agree withhim, agree with everything, not just agree, enthusiastically, contribute,become the robin to his Batman, the Sancho Pazzer to his Don Quixote,and we would go on this delusional crusade together and take on the windmills ofscience and reason, armed with only the speed of lunatic theories and the shielda bloated self entitlement and we were going to lose that curacy, not justlose. I was going to make sure he caught covid even if it meantcatching it too, and I was going to survive and his morbidly will besmoke friddled asthmatic approaching sixty ass wouldn't. That was my plan. I toldyou. It was terrible. There were two things I was not prepared for. The first was how much I would inadvertently please him. I did itone evening after I served him his favorite dinner. I was wondering. Ithought maybe I might come with you tomorrow to your protest. What's brought thison? If your board this host work and needing doing the bathrooms and openSTU? It wasn't because I'm bored. It doesn't matter. You don't wantme to come and won't come. It's fine. Where d you ought tocome? To be honest, I think you might be right. I've beenlistening to you, the things you've been telling me, and they started tomake sense and this locked in so ridiculous. I get it. You know,I think you might be right and it's obviously important to you and Iwant to support you. I admire you for standing up for what you believe, but if you don't want me to,...

...then I won't get any way.No, no, he says, and that's Scaly, smart and curled. I'm glad I'm finally getting through to you. Right then, well,tonight you can make us some placards, and I did as a fantastic jobto one cardboard box in a snap room handle later. I was always goodat crafts. A Google damages for anti mass protests and copy down a fewof their slogans. On the first sign I painted fear as a currency ofcontrol, and I do the figure from that painting. You know the scream, but I put a face mask on him. On the other side Idon't. It's not a pandemic, it's a planned emic. And Beg angryscript. Then on the slightly smaller one, I just painted hawks and made itlook like it's written in blood and on the other side Hashtag unmask thetruth. When he came down in the morning he looked like it was Christmas. That's not even a joke. He'd never been as pleased as anything I'vedone over the entire course of our relationship as he was with those placards.It almost caused me to doubt the plan. Was this all it took to makeour marriage work? Me To show him a little support? Was thisme getting it all wrong? And then I looked at the way he waslooking at me. He wasn't happy because I was supporting him. He washappy of his handiwork. He was happy because, as he saw my conversionas affirmation of his authority, I was now completely compliant and product of hispoisoning. He was happy because he had managed to pull me down to hismucky, filthy level. That's why he was so delighted. I was hissacrificial offering to the Lord God trump. We went to that protest. They'reabout thirty or so others, all of them clearly had issues, all ofthem angry. Of course, I'll placards got a lot of attention, whichutterly thrilled him. The gloating self importance steamed off him. A reporter forthe evening news even took our picture. I managed to hide most of myface behind the black guard. He stood there grieving like an idiot, onehand holding the signal of like a sword, the other inexplicably in a black panthersalute. Did it not just make the paper? Oh, I wasmortified. He was over the moon. It was as close to happy asI've ever seen him. He bought all the copies at the convenience store.He even paid for a carry out for both of us. That was afirst. I mean, he chose what I had, but still. Heputs the photo on Facebook, he makes it a screen saver on his phone. Then he gets a phone call from one of those idiots asking him tospeak at the next rally. My God, I thought the man was going todance. Thank thankfully, he never intempted such a feat. The secondthing I wasn't prepared for was how difficult it was to actually catch covid it. It's like my husband seemed largely few and far between. Most people werescared, compliant, anxious and grateful. Grateful to the NHS, grateful toothers who gave them space to pass in the street, grateful to shop ownersfor staying open. The vast majority people were trying to do the right thing. More than that, I would say the vast majority people saw the needto be visibly better than they might have been, to be extra courteous tobe more aware of the needs of the people around them. I desperately wantedto be one of them. Despite taking extraordinary risks flaunting all the rules,neither he nor I caught covid. Throughout the summer. We got into Augustand I was beginning to think it wasn't going to happen. It occurred tome that I may have unwittingly made my life worse. What we both survivedthis and everything just returned to normal. I would be stuck in this roleforever. Winter was coming. The numbers...

...started to go up, the restrictionsstart coming back down in his mood darkened, he became less jubilantly defined, morebitter and care stick and, when the pub's close again, utterly impossibleto live with. The rallies had tailed off. Trump caught covid, whichthrew him because up until that point he was insisting covid wasn't even real.He was struggling toward on to a consistent narrative. Now, whatever pleasure hehad taken up my show of support had long since dissipated and I was backto being the emotional punch bag. Our performances resumed with intensity. I realizeif I was going to survive, I had to go out the house.I had to do something. So I volunteered to deliver meals. I toldhim I was just taking long walks to see the orts on Arthur's seat,but for two or three hours a day I helped take ready cook meals andshopping to the elderly and vulnerable. If I heard of someone who had caughtthe virus, I would note the adgest and make a point of visiting.I would take some essentials round to the House and say I was responding aspart of the charity. I would touch everything I could in their gardens orthe closest to their flat. Sometimes they would open their doors and I wouldstand as near as they would let me and breathe deeply. I went asfar as to cut one of the STRAPS on my compulsory face mask so thatit would keep slipping off. That so desperate I was two weeks ago.Past three weeks, then win in October, the numbers keep getting higher. Peoplelosing the little hope they had for a normal Christmas. Then November,and as the winter begins to become cold and brittle, so does a generalmood. Everyone seems spiky and fragile, on Edge, and I'm losing hope. I feel I feel myself disappearing under the weight of him. I startto have intrusive thoughts, horrible thoughts that I don't want to talk about,and then, boom, one morning I wake up with a temperature and feelingabsolutely terrible. I couldn't have been happier. I immediately booked a test, gota spot that day. Within twenty four hours it was confirmed. Allelujah, I was infected. I really enjoyed the confusion on his face when Itold him. I showed him the printed test result. He still refused tobelieve it. He was caught in his own trap. I could see hewas furious and also, for the first time ever, scared. Yet hisuseless pride would not allow himself to concede that there was any need to takeprecautions. He couldn't back down. He would not allow himself to in anyway acknowledge that he was at risk. After all, it's only losers toto of covid the week, those who are on their way out anyway.Trump had got it and survived, no problem. It was just a badcold. It was not just a bad cold. It was horrible. Forabout four or five days I was really sick. I only just managed toreserve what little energy I had to merge from my room at night and ensureall the surfaces in the house were quated in Covid I. I breathed onand touched everything, including him as he slept. He didn't come near me, never once came up the stairs to see how I was or ask ifI needed anything. I could hear him through the floor, piecing, mutteringto himself, sometimes shouting, sometimes throwing open the back door to Piss intothe garden. Then on the fourth day, when I was starting to feel marginallybetter, I heard him cough, not as usual smokers cough, anothertype of cough that I hadn't heard him cough before. Any thrill ran downthe back of my spine. Two days later I'm folding the ambulance. Heis struggling to breathe. I feel like...

I might just be starting. He'stransferred to I see you the day after. He's every week. I don't visit, can't visit, not allowed and I have other things to do now. Anyway, on the eighth day the nurse phones me. She says thingsdidn't look goods and did I want to have a video call with him?It would be route to decline. Anyway, I wanted to see him. Iwas shocked when I did. He was almost transparently Pale, his eyesbloodshot and half closed. I can see was exhausted. He was collapsed ina bed like some gigantic jelly fish they'd scooped off a beach. He hadan oxygen mask on and when he tries to talk, it's just incomprehensible raspingnoises. I can't hear what you say in Darl and say that again.Oh, I'm feeling much better. Thank you. You will too, I'msure. Chin up now. Trump survived, didn't he? It's just like abad call down and this and that what you said, and I cansee the impotent regeon his eyes, his pointless, powerless anger, and he'strying to shout, but all he can do is gasp for air. Don'tget excited. Listen. I don't want anything to happen to you. Youneed to get better, okay, Sweetie, because you know, and then Ipause and I'll allow a smile to unfurl across my face and I'm surehe sees the dark clint in my eyes as I pick up myles, mynew kitten, and hold him up to the camera, and I see,slowly, deliberately, my tongue slipping over every syllable. Wouldn't you miss yournew weep pussy cat, and his eyes narrow, he starts to cough andsplutter. Machines in the background begin to beat faster and louder. I canhear people coming into the room and then the tablet falls to the ground andfor a few seconds all I can see is the ceiling, before nurse appearson the screen and explains they have to go right now. And as ascreen goes blank, my world opens up. Alexa, I say to my newin integrated TV at speaker system. Play raw by Katie Perdy, andI saying my ffing heart out. Catching breath was performed by daisy girl.It was written by Ker mcallister. The music was composed by Dave B Mac. Special thanks go to Seana McDonald, Christa McDonald, Scott Edinbrough, youtheater, Katie and Karen Cordon, and all it guilded balloon, the CORONALOGUS. The second wave is a watch this space production in partnership with Gilded Balloon. This has been a difficult time for the arts. None of the contributorshave received any payment. If you have enjoyed this episode and would like todonate, then details can be found in the audio description. Alternatively, youcan donate by visiting watch this space productionscom or gilded balloon dot call dot UK. All do nations will be split equally amongst the contributors.

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