April 2013 to March 2014
Oh dear. Almost a year since my last post. So here goes with a show by show summary:
April 2013
Talks at Sutton Arts Theatre, Stratford Lite WI and Packington WI.
Loved all of them. Sutton Arts Theatre - wonderful place - would love to work with them again. Stratford Lite. Quite a lot of people turned up. Far more than I was expecting. Lucky I'd rehearsed. Packington - gave the talk in the undercroft of Packington Hall, a private mansion north of Coventry. There were deer in the park and a wonderful mix of WI members in the undercroft. The President and Secretary of the WI did a double act that made most other comedians look boring.
Double Booked at Hill Ridware. I like Hill Ridware. Been there twice now and this time I was given a raffle prize. Bath bombs. As with all bath bombs they are gathering dust. Same show at Festival Centre in Drayton - the smallest WI Hall I've been to. Went fine and the lights didn't break down this time, which was a bonus compared with my last visit.
Home Truths at Heron Theatre, Cumbria. Big occasion. Second performance of the double bill which is Double Booked and Something Fishy. Took all day to get there and near disaster when lights went funny and the electrician was on Windermere - i.e. right bang in the middle of the blinking lake. All part of the fun of rural touring. You don't get this in London.
Something Fishy at Kettering Arts Centre. I don't know why but I never look forward to performing in a church. However, this one worked really well. The vicar's wife knows how to set up a theatre and their sound and lighting worked a treat. Good audience too. Wouldn't mind going back there.
Something Fishy in Abberley. Oh Abberley! You never let me down. Always a top audience. But the steam driven lights have been condemned and Marcus, their maker was nowhere to be seen, which was a sadness because my memory from previous visits of my retired techie John nudging ancient Marcus to prompt every lighting change will never fade.
May
Talk in Shipston. Big mistake to go and look around the shops before the talk. Spent four times my fee in about half an hour. Talk in Wellesbourne. Funny performing to friends and neighbours.
Ten Days in Byfield and Sytchampton Nice to be in two new venues and a while since I'd done Ten Days.. still love that show.
Something Fishy in Olton. Love Olton. All for Children of Chernobyl - one of the best charities I know.
And then a mistake - the regional final of Britain Does Variety. WHY do I do these things? Some experiences are best left not had. Best forgotten.
Back to familiar ground with Double Booked in Kings Bromley. Second smallest village hall I know. Dressing room is upstairs next to the men's snooker room. Kind of odd but love the people.
Then the third Home Truths performance at Artrix and an auspicious first meeting with Tom Jude.
June and July
Nice show in Shrewley and nice talk in Lillington (highest quota yet of midday audience falling asleep) but more to the point, rehearsals started for HOUND DOG. New play, cast of seven, including husband, best friend and her son, techie's ex boyfriend. My directing debut. A true-ish story about my rescue of Juno the Greek harehound. Big, big challenge and all in order to go to Edinburgh Fringe in August. A few wobbles, of course, but overall a good experience and the Wellesbourne debut went well.
August
Mad, mad August: me performing Double Booked and Something Fishy on alternate days at Pleasance Courtyard. Everyone else performing Hound Dog every day for first 11 days at Sweet Grassmarket and then son Ralph and his company performing Daughters at Space at Surgeon's Hall for final week.
Result: 5 star review for Double Booked - great.
Slightly disappointing attendance for Something Fishy: a mistake to bill it as a sequel
Audiences grew in size and appreciation for Hound Dog and decent 3 star reviews.
Daughters - 3 star ratings didn't match wording of reviews. Amazing Edinburgh performing and directing debut for a 17 year old.
Cost - through the roof on account of Juno (the Greek harehound) destroying the house we rented. Post show party was brilliant fun. Great to spend so much time with so many young people.
End of August - so knackered decided was going to give it all up.
September
A couple of gentle talks to remind me that I do like performing.
October
Lots of Double Booked - Gosford Hill, a Live and Local performance and a memorable day performing in aid of Vanessa Rose's charities at King Edward's School Birmingham. They raised £7k. Just shows.
November
Largely taken up with my tour of Lincs, Notts and Leics with my lovely techie Ellyie Mendelsohn. Oh we did have fun. Every audience was wonderful and every B and B was individual, slightly wacky, clean, comfortable and unforgettable. Loved every minute.
December
Memorable for the tiniest audience ever: 11 people and some had to leave in the interval because they were too young. But despite that it was still a really nice evening for some reason. Can't work out why because in a way everything was wrong: the venue, the audience, the lighting. Still think back to it being a good night. Weird.
Sadly though, my dearest techie, Ellyie Mendelsohn left to take up the next stage in her career. She has been brilliant. Probably made about 2 mistakes during the entire time she was with me. Taught me all above Judaeism, the fear of spiders, gluten intolerance and how to be quiet and get on with it when something is difficult.
January
Talks in Halford and Wellesbourne and Alderminster.
And the beginning of FASHIONABLY LATE. Despite my predictions that Something Fishy was the final Ruth Rich episode, this is the next one. But it's different: principally because after a few rehearsals I realised it cried out for another performer and James Goldsworthy is performing with me. (He played Jack the dog in Hound Dog).
February
Performances in Bromsgrove (nice), Bedford (very nice - a two-nighter), Playbox Theatre (really nice), Braintree (guess what, nice) and Leicester (poor audiences but I liked the venue).
And here we are in March. Surprise surprise. I have lost my voice. It is staging a quiet protest at the amount of work it's doing. But it'll have to get its act together because there are more shows to do in March including the first ever public performance of Fashionably Late - proudly sponsored by the Arts Council, R Locke & Co and Lodders Solicitors. Rehearsals with James are hilarious. Rehearsals with James and Tom the techie - ah yes, Tom Jude has filled Ellyie's big boots sensationally well - are cripplingly funny. Can't wait.
Friday, 7 March 2014
Wednesday, 27 March 2013
Autumn 2012 - Spring 2013
Looking forward, not back for a moment. This is going to be an amazing summer. I am taking not one, not two, but three plays to this summer's Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
In no particular order they are these:
Ruth Rich makes a long awaited return. She will reprise her 2010 sell-out run of Double Booked at the Pleasance Courtyard (Attic) and on alternate days will perform Something Fishy, the sequel. These two plays see Ruth grappling with teenagers, her own batty mother and the constant stream of bitchy one-upwomanship that Tim's mum doles out in daily doses. No worries about audiences seeing Something Fishy before Double Booked, both plays stand alone.
Meanwhile something else new will be happening at Sweet Grassmarket. HOUND DOG - a story inspired by the real life importation of Greek harehound, Juno, into our middle english family life. This is a touching, funny, uplifting play which exposes family tensions but the audience will leave wagging its tail. The musical interludes alone are enough to make you smile - Flanders and Swann, Noel Coward, Monty Python and a tiny bit of My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
Winding backwards though, there have been quite a few moments to describe over the past season. Here are the highlights:
26th March, checking into the Lincolnshire Poacher Inn for an overnight stay. Five minutes later checking out again. Frankly I'd rather drive home than stay overnight somewhere where there's literally a bed and a shower and a summer weight duvet in minus 1 degree weather.
16 March, a return visit to the charming village of Ashton under Hill, Worcestershire. Every single piece of equipment was loaded into and out of the van for me. That's what I call hospitality.
14 March Bromsgrove School. A lovely ethereal audience who appeared from nowhere in the mist and disappeared in a similar way. During their stay they gave a lovely warm response and the show went as well as its gone anywhere, or was it all just a dream?
8 March sorry Ilmington, but I think it was probably a mistake to give the people sitting at the back an hour's drinking time before the start of the show. First prize for the most beautifully designed village hall and smartest nibbles though.
5th and 6th March Talks at Tysoe, Milverton and Napton. Fascinating how the same talk can produce such differing responses. It's great when people smile and look interested. Not so good when they fall asleep. But was I actually sitting in the sun outside Milverton Village Hall in early March? It's now late March and there's snow on the ground.
2 March Fenny Compton. Hats off to you guys for being wonderfully laid back about the news that if mum took a turn for the worse in intensive care I might not get there. But she didn't and I did and I hope I'll go back another day.
22 Feb West Haddon. Love you guys.
20 Feb Hollington Hub - This was fun. It was kind of a canal boat club. What lovely, lovely promoters though. Everything I did seemed to delight them more and more. It doesn't half help. Sheer delight.
9 Feb Shottery - the debut of the new song - One Prawn Risotto in E Flat Major and they liked it. Very friendly crowd that lot at Shottery. The subject matter of the play couldn't have been less tactful if it had been designed that way. Noone told me. Noone could have known.
1 Feb - Middleton Cheney. Interesting to turn up and discover that the stage is still being built. Not that I'm complaining, sometimes there isn't a stage at all. Backstage is fascinating too: the dressing room is the medical centre, wonderfully clean and I worry that I'll contaminate it; the green room is the staff room. Nowadays I judge a school on the orderliness of its staffroom. 10/10 here.
26 Jan Wellesbourne Village Hall in aid of Amasango Career School, South Africa. This was a magical day for me: doing something in my own village for a cause I totally believe in. Wellesbourne came up trumps. Teas served by flunkies in suits and ties, Warwickshire's best fish and chips for the evening performances. Total sum raised £2300 - that's what I call fundraising.
Winding back further the high and lowlights of the autumn season were:
Home Truths at Alleyns School: the debut of the double bill comprising Double Booked and Something Fishy. It went down well to an intelligent and savvy audience. Encouraged.
Ombersley performance: first prize for the best nibbles and one of the best audiences of late.
Perrott Hill. Don't go there. I didn't.
Brighton performance: weirdest night of my life performing in a house built like a ship to a silent audience. Just one of those things I suppose.
Langley School made up for everything. Guys you were amazing and I'm looking forward to coming back.
Cheers everyone. Roll on the summer. Roll on Edinburgh.
In no particular order they are these:
Ruth Rich makes a long awaited return. She will reprise her 2010 sell-out run of Double Booked at the Pleasance Courtyard (Attic) and on alternate days will perform Something Fishy, the sequel. These two plays see Ruth grappling with teenagers, her own batty mother and the constant stream of bitchy one-upwomanship that Tim's mum doles out in daily doses. No worries about audiences seeing Something Fishy before Double Booked, both plays stand alone.
Meanwhile something else new will be happening at Sweet Grassmarket. HOUND DOG - a story inspired by the real life importation of Greek harehound, Juno, into our middle english family life. This is a touching, funny, uplifting play which exposes family tensions but the audience will leave wagging its tail. The musical interludes alone are enough to make you smile - Flanders and Swann, Noel Coward, Monty Python and a tiny bit of My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
Winding backwards though, there have been quite a few moments to describe over the past season. Here are the highlights:
26th March, checking into the Lincolnshire Poacher Inn for an overnight stay. Five minutes later checking out again. Frankly I'd rather drive home than stay overnight somewhere where there's literally a bed and a shower and a summer weight duvet in minus 1 degree weather.
16 March, a return visit to the charming village of Ashton under Hill, Worcestershire. Every single piece of equipment was loaded into and out of the van for me. That's what I call hospitality.
14 March Bromsgrove School. A lovely ethereal audience who appeared from nowhere in the mist and disappeared in a similar way. During their stay they gave a lovely warm response and the show went as well as its gone anywhere, or was it all just a dream?
8 March sorry Ilmington, but I think it was probably a mistake to give the people sitting at the back an hour's drinking time before the start of the show. First prize for the most beautifully designed village hall and smartest nibbles though.
5th and 6th March Talks at Tysoe, Milverton and Napton. Fascinating how the same talk can produce such differing responses. It's great when people smile and look interested. Not so good when they fall asleep. But was I actually sitting in the sun outside Milverton Village Hall in early March? It's now late March and there's snow on the ground.
2 March Fenny Compton. Hats off to you guys for being wonderfully laid back about the news that if mum took a turn for the worse in intensive care I might not get there. But she didn't and I did and I hope I'll go back another day.
22 Feb West Haddon. Love you guys.
20 Feb Hollington Hub - This was fun. It was kind of a canal boat club. What lovely, lovely promoters though. Everything I did seemed to delight them more and more. It doesn't half help. Sheer delight.
9 Feb Shottery - the debut of the new song - One Prawn Risotto in E Flat Major and they liked it. Very friendly crowd that lot at Shottery. The subject matter of the play couldn't have been less tactful if it had been designed that way. Noone told me. Noone could have known.
1 Feb - Middleton Cheney. Interesting to turn up and discover that the stage is still being built. Not that I'm complaining, sometimes there isn't a stage at all. Backstage is fascinating too: the dressing room is the medical centre, wonderfully clean and I worry that I'll contaminate it; the green room is the staff room. Nowadays I judge a school on the orderliness of its staffroom. 10/10 here.
26 Jan Wellesbourne Village Hall in aid of Amasango Career School, South Africa. This was a magical day for me: doing something in my own village for a cause I totally believe in. Wellesbourne came up trumps. Teas served by flunkies in suits and ties, Warwickshire's best fish and chips for the evening performances. Total sum raised £2300 - that's what I call fundraising.
Winding back further the high and lowlights of the autumn season were:
Home Truths at Alleyns School: the debut of the double bill comprising Double Booked and Something Fishy. It went down well to an intelligent and savvy audience. Encouraged.
Ombersley performance: first prize for the best nibbles and one of the best audiences of late.
Perrott Hill. Don't go there. I didn't.
Brighton performance: weirdest night of my life performing in a house built like a ship to a silent audience. Just one of those things I suppose.
Langley School made up for everything. Guys you were amazing and I'm looking forward to coming back.
Cheers everyone. Roll on the summer. Roll on Edinburgh.
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
The final assault - summer 2012
How to follow Fenny Compton?
OK - double, almost treble the audience and thus the amount of money raised. Equal the appreciation. This, I think happened in Solihull the following week. Lorna Bevins. I don't usually mention promoters by name but Lorna had responded to the Marie Curie Big Build appeal in Solihull to find 100 women willing to raise £100 each in order to fund the building of a new wing on the side of the Children's Hospice. She drew an audience of 300 to watch Family Matters at The Bushell Hall, Solihull School and raised £4000. For the first time ever I had an inkling of what it is like to perform in a big venue. I'm used to intimate face to face, ear to ear contact with the the audience. I'm used to standing in kitchens and corridors, staff rooms and meeting rooms - anywhere that is out of sight of the audience in a village hall or school venue. But as I stood on the dark side of the vast velvet curtain on the Bushell Hall stage, surrounded by drum kits, music stands and the leftovers of previous productions all I could hear was a hum. The kind of hum that 300 people make. Only a velvet curtain separating me from them and even as I write this it sounds frightening, but there wasn't time for nerves. The route from the dressing room had been complex and I'd left the SatNav in the car so I had to go it alone. Made it in time and located the cans. Yes, cans. I had walkie talkie contact with John the techie who was five miles away at the other side of the auditorium. "Hello?" I whispered hoarsely. "Hello Ginny." said John in a normal voice, being used to this kind of thing. And that was pretty much the end of the conversation. All we really needed to do was establish that each other was there and we were ready to go. Cue music. Cue lights. Step on stage....miles of stage on which to stretch out and perform. Ok, don't get carried away. Audiences and venues like that are usually neither for Christmas nor for life.
The following week I gave my talk "To The Fringe And Beyond" to the Knowle Branch of the British Legion. This was fun. I set up the stage informally in full view of the audience and listened in on their banter. "You've got a lovely bum." wafted over from a table at which three rather elderly ladies sat with drinks. I turned to look, not wanting to miss out on a view of a lovely bum. Wasn't expecting it to belong to another woman. Gosh its different giving a talk though. No script. Sometimes when I share stories with friends I know I'm being interesting, sometimes I know I'm not. Without a script, but with sixty or so listeners, how could I know in advance which way this would go. Not as easy as it sounds, is talking. Thank heavens for my friend Cathy who heard the dress rehearsal in the morning. No script? No way!
Then back to Family Matters. Back to Middleton Cheney Primary School - one of the best audiences I know. Middleton Cheney isn't that far from Fenny Compton. They're both pretty close to Banbury. I guess there can't much else laugh at in Banbury.
And then .... the final assault - the Buxton Festival Fringe. Four days of flyering frenzy and Festival hype. I must confess that by this time of year I'm pretty done in and I had wondered to myself why I was bothering with Buxton. Within an hour of my arrival I remembered The people of Buxton are absolutely charming. They take flyers from my hand, they express interest in the show, they wish me good luck, and they make the whole experience utterly enjoyable. AND they gave me a five star review. I didn't think my shows were up to that. Solid four star stuff was what I did, I thought. I have always hoped for that elusive fifth star but had rather given up on it. But Buxton came up trumps. Lovely Buxton, bless you.
That is it for the 2011-2012 season. See you in October.
OK - double, almost treble the audience and thus the amount of money raised. Equal the appreciation. This, I think happened in Solihull the following week. Lorna Bevins. I don't usually mention promoters by name but Lorna had responded to the Marie Curie Big Build appeal in Solihull to find 100 women willing to raise £100 each in order to fund the building of a new wing on the side of the Children's Hospice. She drew an audience of 300 to watch Family Matters at The Bushell Hall, Solihull School and raised £4000. For the first time ever I had an inkling of what it is like to perform in a big venue. I'm used to intimate face to face, ear to ear contact with the the audience. I'm used to standing in kitchens and corridors, staff rooms and meeting rooms - anywhere that is out of sight of the audience in a village hall or school venue. But as I stood on the dark side of the vast velvet curtain on the Bushell Hall stage, surrounded by drum kits, music stands and the leftovers of previous productions all I could hear was a hum. The kind of hum that 300 people make. Only a velvet curtain separating me from them and even as I write this it sounds frightening, but there wasn't time for nerves. The route from the dressing room had been complex and I'd left the SatNav in the car so I had to go it alone. Made it in time and located the cans. Yes, cans. I had walkie talkie contact with John the techie who was five miles away at the other side of the auditorium. "Hello?" I whispered hoarsely. "Hello Ginny." said John in a normal voice, being used to this kind of thing. And that was pretty much the end of the conversation. All we really needed to do was establish that each other was there and we were ready to go. Cue music. Cue lights. Step on stage....miles of stage on which to stretch out and perform. Ok, don't get carried away. Audiences and venues like that are usually neither for Christmas nor for life.
The following week I gave my talk "To The Fringe And Beyond" to the Knowle Branch of the British Legion. This was fun. I set up the stage informally in full view of the audience and listened in on their banter. "You've got a lovely bum." wafted over from a table at which three rather elderly ladies sat with drinks. I turned to look, not wanting to miss out on a view of a lovely bum. Wasn't expecting it to belong to another woman. Gosh its different giving a talk though. No script. Sometimes when I share stories with friends I know I'm being interesting, sometimes I know I'm not. Without a script, but with sixty or so listeners, how could I know in advance which way this would go. Not as easy as it sounds, is talking. Thank heavens for my friend Cathy who heard the dress rehearsal in the morning. No script? No way!
Then back to Family Matters. Back to Middleton Cheney Primary School - one of the best audiences I know. Middleton Cheney isn't that far from Fenny Compton. They're both pretty close to Banbury. I guess there can't much else laugh at in Banbury.
And then .... the final assault - the Buxton Festival Fringe. Four days of flyering frenzy and Festival hype. I must confess that by this time of year I'm pretty done in and I had wondered to myself why I was bothering with Buxton. Within an hour of my arrival I remembered The people of Buxton are absolutely charming. They take flyers from my hand, they express interest in the show, they wish me good luck, and they make the whole experience utterly enjoyable. AND they gave me a five star review. I didn't think my shows were up to that. Solid four star stuff was what I did, I thought. I have always hoped for that elusive fifth star but had rather given up on it. But Buxton came up trumps. Lovely Buxton, bless you.
That is it for the 2011-2012 season. See you in October.
Sunday, 17 June 2012
Update
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.
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.
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
More tea?
Six months is a long time to wait for .... well most things really, particularly pain relief. Nevertheless, it is almost six months since I went into anaphylactic shock after a combined dose of ibuprofen and paracetamol. My blood pressure dropped so low that day that any doctor to whom I recite the figures rewards my story with a satisfying gasp of horror. There were other symptoms too: a blotchy, itchy rash, hot ears, rasping throat, loss of voice, swelling, more itching, uncontrollable itching .... So I stopped taking both drugs. That was fine until I developed a toothache. "Pass me the paracetamol. No, actually, don't." And then backache. "Try ibuprofen, it's an anti-inflamatory." Not in my case.
The letter from the hospital about today's appointment made it sound like it was going to be a pleasant experience. It told me to bring a book and that I might have to wait around for several hours whilst a controlled test of the least likely drug to affect me (paracetamol) was administered. Once I knew what I was allergic to I could re-establish a safe form of pain relief should I need it.
With novel in hand I set off for the hospital. All set, but I forgot to have a cup of tea before I left home.
Terrible traffic. According to the hospital information, the allergy testing clinic was located in The Department of Infection and Tropical Diseases (like, why there?) at the bum end of the hospital next to the Department of Sexual Health, or the Clap Clinic if you're in the trade. I clocked the location of the the tea counter at the hospital entrance but didn't dare stop for fear of being late. I hurried towards Infection and Tropical Diseases, gave the CC a wide berth and hoped that I wouldn't pick up anything nasty en route. Here there was no sign of a tea trolley.
"Would it be at all possible to have a cup of tea?" I asked my specialist nurse an hour later. "Not until we've finished the procedure, I'm afraid." How long would that be? Four hours. Four hours without a cup of tea?! "How do you cope?" I ventured. My specialist nurse said that for two years she'd worked in A and E and felt lucky to get much more than a sip of water in a 12 hour shift. I tried to look as if I wasn't that bothered.
Tiny droplets of paracetamol were being pin pricked into my skin, then syringed into my mouth with much waiting, taking of blood pressure, heart rate and lung capacity tests in between. If nothing happened I wasn't allergic. If it did, I was. After about an hour and a half I started to itch, but thought that it was merely the power of suggestion, a caffeine dip more likely, and paid no heed. Two hours later, my fingers were drumming on the table. This procedure was taking its time, clearly nothing was going to happen and my thirst for a cup of tea had not abated. And then my eyes began to feel prickly. "It'll be nothing." I thought. Then my ears started to get hot ... but the nurse had just shut the window so that was probably why. "Hang on." I thought. "My ears don't usually go hot every time someone shuts the window .. and now my eyes are itching even more .. and now my arms and legs, and I feel really woozy all of a sudden. I'm really sorry." I said "I think something's happening."
What is it about medical symptoms that makes us apologise? This was the sole purpose of the visit. My specialist nurse looked sceptical and wanted further proof. We looked at my legs. Red, blotchy patches were developing but the nurse was still doubtful. The itching and generally unwell feeling continued. Then a registrar joined us. She looked interested. Then, finally, the consultant came in and announced that the procedure would be halted and that we had proved that I was indeed allergic to paracetamol. Great! Now, finally, I might get some tea. Gasping wasn't the word.
As I said goodbye to the nurse I quipped that of course I had made the whole thing up just to get away to the cafe. She smiled. "I've never really known anyone do that. But then, it's not often that I find myself in the hands of a professional."
Me neither.
And I really don't know if that was a compliment or not, and red blotches are hard to fake. But since I now have a mug of the finest English Breakfast in my hand, I'm not that bothered.
The letter from the hospital about today's appointment made it sound like it was going to be a pleasant experience. It told me to bring a book and that I might have to wait around for several hours whilst a controlled test of the least likely drug to affect me (paracetamol) was administered. Once I knew what I was allergic to I could re-establish a safe form of pain relief should I need it.
With novel in hand I set off for the hospital. All set, but I forgot to have a cup of tea before I left home.
Terrible traffic. According to the hospital information, the allergy testing clinic was located in The Department of Infection and Tropical Diseases (like, why there?) at the bum end of the hospital next to the Department of Sexual Health, or the Clap Clinic if you're in the trade. I clocked the location of the the tea counter at the hospital entrance but didn't dare stop for fear of being late. I hurried towards Infection and Tropical Diseases, gave the CC a wide berth and hoped that I wouldn't pick up anything nasty en route. Here there was no sign of a tea trolley.
"Would it be at all possible to have a cup of tea?" I asked my specialist nurse an hour later. "Not until we've finished the procedure, I'm afraid." How long would that be? Four hours. Four hours without a cup of tea?! "How do you cope?" I ventured. My specialist nurse said that for two years she'd worked in A and E and felt lucky to get much more than a sip of water in a 12 hour shift. I tried to look as if I wasn't that bothered.
Tiny droplets of paracetamol were being pin pricked into my skin, then syringed into my mouth with much waiting, taking of blood pressure, heart rate and lung capacity tests in between. If nothing happened I wasn't allergic. If it did, I was. After about an hour and a half I started to itch, but thought that it was merely the power of suggestion, a caffeine dip more likely, and paid no heed. Two hours later, my fingers were drumming on the table. This procedure was taking its time, clearly nothing was going to happen and my thirst for a cup of tea had not abated. And then my eyes began to feel prickly. "It'll be nothing." I thought. Then my ears started to get hot ... but the nurse had just shut the window so that was probably why. "Hang on." I thought. "My ears don't usually go hot every time someone shuts the window .. and now my eyes are itching even more .. and now my arms and legs, and I feel really woozy all of a sudden. I'm really sorry." I said "I think something's happening."
What is it about medical symptoms that makes us apologise? This was the sole purpose of the visit. My specialist nurse looked sceptical and wanted further proof. We looked at my legs. Red, blotchy patches were developing but the nurse was still doubtful. The itching and generally unwell feeling continued. Then a registrar joined us. She looked interested. Then, finally, the consultant came in and announced that the procedure would be halted and that we had proved that I was indeed allergic to paracetamol. Great! Now, finally, I might get some tea. Gasping wasn't the word.
As I said goodbye to the nurse I quipped that of course I had made the whole thing up just to get away to the cafe. She smiled. "I've never really known anyone do that. But then, it's not often that I find myself in the hands of a professional."
Me neither.
And I really don't know if that was a compliment or not, and red blotches are hard to fake. But since I now have a mug of the finest English Breakfast in my hand, I'm not that bothered.
BLOG AWARDS 2nd attempt
Welcome to my fourth follower! Apparently the voting widget doesn't work. Try pasting this link into your browser link instead:
http://www.goodreads.com/book_blogger_award?category=Adult+Nonfiction
Thank you so much!
Ginny
http://www.goodreads.com/book_blogger_award?category=Adult+Nonfiction
Thank you so much!
Ginny
Thursday, 5 April 2012
Blog Awards
To all my members .... yes all three of us .... please use this to vote for me as blogger of the year in the Blog Awards:
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