It's about a month before I go to Brazil for my show in Rio.
To my mild surprise, nothing has happened to cause the show to be cancelled.
In the lead-up to this trip, nothing must go wrong. Everything has to line up - there really is no margin for error.
I must not slip or fall over. I walk more carefully than usual.
One day, walking home from the shops, I encounter a patch of pavement sprinkled with slippery seeds. I slide crazily, my shopping bag threatening to unbalance me. I must not fall! After performing a little dance, I manage to right myself.
One day, nearing my office, I skid on a slice of tomato that has fallen out of someone's sandwich onto the footpath. I lose my balance but eventually manage to stay upright.
I watch a disturbing news report - passing a city building site, two women have been knocked over and pinned to the ground by a heavy gate that has fallen on them. One has a broken leg and hip; the other has cuts and bruises. I have walked past that building site - it could have been me.
I must not have an accident. I drive more carefully than usual.
I must not get sick. I'm still battling to rid myself of the cold I collected on the plane returning from the US.
I must not miss my flights. Every night I am having airport nightmares.
I always feel anxious leaving the house, and I will be the last one in my family to depart, so it's a responsibility. Perhaps I could ask a friend who lives nearby to come and supervise my departure? This might save me from melting down.
Nothing must happen to my husband or my children.
Parents must not die or suffer injurious falls. I visit my mother and my mother-in-law, and thankfully they both seem fine at the moment.
Nothing must happen to any my musicians or support team. I ask our agent, Mara, to organise some travel insurance for them.
I must not lose my credit card - it can take more than a week to get a new one.
Nothing must go wrong with my heart. I have postponed my annual check-up until I get home.
Nothing at all must happen to prevent me from travelling.
Everything must be in alignment. It must all go according to plan.
Nothing must happen to destabilise things in Rio. I watch a news report of an incident in which parts of Copacabana and Ipanema are locked down because of a police raid on a drug dealer's home in a nearby favela.
The logistics of this trip are complex. Lots of bookings and documentation are required. How on earth would we have done this in the days before Internet bookings, email and Facebook?
None of my plans must come unstuck.
The idea that the plan might actually work is incredibly intoxicating.
I am so excited, I can hardly sleep.
To my mild surprise, nothing has happened to cause the show to be cancelled.
In the lead-up to this trip, nothing must go wrong. Everything has to line up - there really is no margin for error.
I must not slip or fall over. I walk more carefully than usual.
One day, walking home from the shops, I encounter a patch of pavement sprinkled with slippery seeds. I slide crazily, my shopping bag threatening to unbalance me. I must not fall! After performing a little dance, I manage to right myself.
One day, nearing my office, I skid on a slice of tomato that has fallen out of someone's sandwich onto the footpath. I lose my balance but eventually manage to stay upright.
I watch a disturbing news report - passing a city building site, two women have been knocked over and pinned to the ground by a heavy gate that has fallen on them. One has a broken leg and hip; the other has cuts and bruises. I have walked past that building site - it could have been me.
I must not have an accident. I drive more carefully than usual.
I must not get sick. I'm still battling to rid myself of the cold I collected on the plane returning from the US.
I must not miss my flights. Every night I am having airport nightmares.
I always feel anxious leaving the house, and I will be the last one in my family to depart, so it's a responsibility. Perhaps I could ask a friend who lives nearby to come and supervise my departure? This might save me from melting down.
Nothing must happen to my husband or my children.
Parents must not die or suffer injurious falls. I visit my mother and my mother-in-law, and thankfully they both seem fine at the moment.
Nothing must happen to any my musicians or support team. I ask our agent, Mara, to organise some travel insurance for them.
I must not lose my credit card - it can take more than a week to get a new one.
Nothing must go wrong with my heart. I have postponed my annual check-up until I get home.
Nothing at all must happen to prevent me from travelling.
Everything must be in alignment. It must all go according to plan.
Nothing must happen to destabilise things in Rio. I watch a news report of an incident in which parts of Copacabana and Ipanema are locked down because of a police raid on a drug dealer's home in a nearby favela.
The logistics of this trip are complex. Lots of bookings and documentation are required. How on earth would we have done this in the days before Internet bookings, email and Facebook?
None of my plans must come unstuck.
The idea that the plan might actually work is incredibly intoxicating.
I am so excited, I can hardly sleep.
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