Pathetic, isn't it. You read on someone's advertising bumf that they write a blog after every show, then two months pass and what is there to read? Nada. Then, just when you think you'll sign out there is a splurge of verbal diarrhoea. Well, soz, but it's been a bit hectic since April and I'm in a bit of a strop since I've suggested two films to man and boy this evening and neither of them is interested in either because Portugal are playing Holland (like, do I care?), so I'm going to reminisce about the last two months instead.
April. Oh. Looks like nothing happened in April.
May. "Something Fishy" in Ettington. The venue was festooned with fishy decorations. Brilliantly huge audience and they made a colossal sum of money, chiefly I think because noone has to drive home and there was a bar.
The next day I did "Ten Days ..." in Rous Lench. There were tea towels hanging from clothes lines all around the venue. "Bit odd" I thought and assumed that they were some form of heritage or the latest sign of madness from the WI. Even the "I dream of Daniel Craig" tea towel didn't register the fact that they'd been put there specially for me. Only when I saw that the table decorations were wooden spoons and cooking implements did I cotton on. No dressing room in Rous Lench so I changed in the organiser's kitchen up the road, watched by an unblinking collie.
That was it until the Brighton Fringe. Oh my. So many stimuli. Here are my main impressions:
1. Flyering, flyering and flyering. Interminable flyering. Fabulous when someone sounds interested and oh, so depressing when they don't. So, so tempting to just put them in the bin. Reminded me of being a papergirl.
2. Tarik, the beautiful venue manager. He'd bought a sewing machine and sewn gold fabric to his collar and cuffs. Seated cross-legged on the floor of the green room lacing fairy lights onto string Tarik lit up my life.
3. Jenny's baby blanket. Jenny is married to John the techie (Hi John) and came along for a little holiday, together with the most complex piece of knitting I have ever seen for baby Jamie who was born last week. Message to Jamie: don't forget to thank Granny for the baby blanket when you learn to talk. She is the side of your bread that is buttered.
4. John's weather forecasts. John (Hi again John) is into the weather having been a sailor in a former life. Winds in Brighton were either on or offshore, according to their caprice. Rather witty, I thought.
5. My annual swim. Oh I do like to be beside the seaside for a week or so and can't resist a dip. Stinks though, the sea in Brighton. It's a kind of gross dead fish like pong. How come? It's not like that in Cornwall.
6. Prize for the most strange audience member. Well it's a toss up between the dog and the High Court Judge and his Clerk. The dog slept throughout. The Judge and his Clerk managed to stay awake, pre-show champagne at the Judges' Lodgings notwithstanding. If I'd had to bet on who'd nod off first I'd probably have put money on the Judge.
7. A most fortuitous meeting with a fringe reviewer. After four hours of continuous flyering I'd retired, knackered, to the Fringe Office - incapable of movement of speech until I gathered the strength to continue. Lady walks in and starts chatting to someone else. After 10 minutes or so I gather who she is, and we chat, and she promises to come to the show, and she does, and she gives it four stars, and THAT, is what I hoped to get out of Brighton.
The day after Brighton we did "Something Fishy' in Coventry. Unpacked the car to discover that the crutches had been left in Brighton. No!!!!!!! They are the punchline! As I mentally started rewriting the play Lady Fortune smiled on me. The organiser said she had not one but two pairs of crutches at home and she could spare one of them - in fact give one of them to me - forever.
And then the day after that we went to King's Bromley to do "Ten Days ..." And you'd think that we'd have felt a bit knackered after the May we had had, but there is nothing like a good audience to perk up a performer and King's Bromley came up trumps. What a night!
Day off .. then "Something Fishy" in Clipston. Dear, lovely Clipston. Have to say, hats off to the organisers for the nibbles: little plates with fancy meats, hummus, bread and olives. Fish and Chips is proving a popular accompaniment to Something Fishy (don't know how they think of it). Clipston was definitely a cut above.
And then Marston Green where Margret Wilden hosted the play with the kind of spirit and good humour I've seen in small doses elsewhere but rarely in such quantities as she brought to the evening. When we arrived it turned out we didn't need some of our equipment and I asked if it would be safe to leave it in the car. Marston Green looked a nice enough place, but then, I'd thought that about Bulkington where all my equipment was stolen from the car mid show last year. Margret said she would keep an eye on things for me. So efficiently did she keep to her promise that she was unable to prevent an opportunist thief from sneaking into the kitchen and stealing her purse while she was watching my car. It was a real shame. The evening had gone well, but this really spoiled it.
A week later we returned to Kirtlington, for whom I have a great affection as I have now performed there five times, even though I so far only have four plays. (Watch out for the "so far"!) It was a small but perfectly formed audience and "Something Fishy" went as well as I could have hoped.
Two weeks off and then back to Tysoe for "Family Matters". Gosh, it'd been a while since "Family Matters". A while during which a mouse had half eaten the sperm cell and I'd had to glue it back together again. Steve came to size up the techie's job. He arrived with the news that he had a bad back, a strong portent that he would be ideal for the job. John and I hobble around the place with varying states of bad back. John has now upped the anti with an Achilles tendon problem. Has to be said though, Steve did look in pain. Another moment for Lady Fortune though. We needed an extra curtain to hide the techies from the audience. Mel just happened to have not only the curtain but the stand to hang it on too because she is a photographer. How likely was that?
Leaving the best till last, now I come to Fenny Compton. One hundred in the audience. But not just one hundred, one hundred lively young people who were up for a laugh and didn't mind how long they had to wait till supper. Their laughter delayed the end of the show by a good 15 minutes. The moment I will remember. They were laughing, really laughing and I knew that the next line was going to make them laugh even more. I paused. I waited. I smiled. I looked at the lady who was laughing most. I smiled again. I started to laugh too. And then I delivered the line and the house came down. Moments like that are what it's all about and it's a good moment to talk.
No comments:
Post a Comment