AlBarclay

This show I’ve just finished has been working on many levels. Cheryl the writer is a medium and is channeling that into her work. There’s a lot in this play about witches. “When I wrote it first there were no witch plays but now it feels like there are loads,” she said to me a few days ago. “It’s a past life play,” I offered. There aren’t so many of them.

We play the same people in two different iterations. We look at the shared blood, the way permissions and society reshape the same souls. And yes, we look at what happened to more women than records keep, as a result of the invention of the printing press. The play doesn’t go into that, that’s me nerding out. Because it was the printing press that allowed Heinrich Kramer’s Malleus Maleficarum – The Hammer of Witches to be distributed so far and so wide that one nasty little Dominican friar brought potentially millions of cunning women to an early death. In these isles the lore had been devastated before the hammer was distributed, but we were not always as we are and the hammer fell hard on the remaining keepers. We don’t know what we’ve lost, we can never know, but we can guess at it.

We still carry a primary faith structure that was imposed on us after the conquering Romans withdrew. They arrived as pantheists, but they left centuries later as passionate Christians with money and force. Likely the pantheism would have ellided better with whatever was ours, but  our home grown learnings were largely buried in the name of control. We only have snippets. Oral tradition takes time and thought to properly send down. Wisdom passed down by word of mouth has to have mouths to remember. Silence the mouths and you lose so much, and it can be lost forever if people seek to snip the trail off, as they did.

But we can channel things and intuit things. After the show, Angie – one of our audience members – said something about her past lives that shot right through us both, goose bumps, everything. A knowing. She hit on a buried truth in her records. I sent her to Cheryl in case it ever comes back, this show. We end with names. Names of some of the many more than we know who were removed by Heinrich and his fragile ilk for being a challenge to their nonsense entitlement. Important names that were silenced.

I’m home, cats jumping on me, aware that I’ve eaten nothing but a croissant today and it’s almost midnight. I just topped the cat food up. I might look into a late night delivery… Or what do I have in the fridge?

I’ll miss this show. I miss all the shows. But this one is a special place. A deep place. And rooted into early stages of my career in unexpected ways, based on some of the people who came.

—

Apparently Five Guys do late night delivery in my area. I am only a little bit ashamed of myself. I didn’t get a shake.

The cats have been alone a lot recently so they assaulted me as soon as I came home.

Boo is currently doing her weyard duty as a black cat on Halloween.

This evening many things.

In a London boiled with strangeness and the drunken energy of thoughtless party, we gathered in little Playhouse East. Six of us and we are all basically what they call Gen X. We had a play written on its own terms and we did it on our own terms. Process and care and bravery and risk. We let it in. We let them in.

Very full in there. Wonderfully so. I love a little space like that. We can drop all the projection and we can focus on listening and nuance. The audience is right on top of us so there’s no room for bullshit, like with TV. It’d clang as loudly.

Cheryl cleared some serious things energetic things tonight up there. This is closer than many jobs I’ve done to why I’m in this game in the first place. Othello did it for me too.

The alignment of theatre and ritual, the way in which we can do them both simultaneously. Law holds a safe space, that’s her thing and she’s the director. Lou spotted it immediately. “She held space really well as the wise woman. Made us all know we were held too.” That’s been our director, and I agree. This is a powerful feminine company and it’s huge to be able to be part of it. We called in the directions in the warm-up. We opened and closed a ritual in that little room and the audience were with us throughout. That’s the power of a little theatre like that.

When it was over I helped with the reset and then drove Lou to Victoria. Then I still have my Halloween Walk costume in the car.

James’s wedding. A Halloween wedding. I get on my crooked hat and my cape. Everyone else has been drinking for hours. “I just threw on whatever I had in my car.” A golden alignment of truth and cool.

I’m happy to have made the drinks. Too many weddings I’ve missed it missed them. Sometimes much damage has been done to friendships. A wedding is big banana. If you’re not an actor it is not easy to know how impossible it is to cancel a show to fly to Germany or wherever. Even to get off a crash rehearsal to go to one… I lost years of a good friendship by being forced into an unnecessary stressrehearsal on a Saturday.

James was an actor once. It’s how we met, very early days. We stayed in touch because of raving – we found Planet Angel and it kept us sane in the early noughties. Christ I genuinely don’t know if I’d still be alive without those days and the festivals. I’m the glowstick man still. Even without my endless supply of glowsticks.

I’m so glad to have been there and danced at his wedding, even after having done a show tonight and extended my heart into that work. What a treat, to get to do the thing I love and not have it ruin another old friendship. It was good to see him and his kids and his missus. What a thing that they’ve tied the knot at last.

Halloween and the energies are flowing still. I’m home now. Boo is welded to me. All is well.

Funny night tonight. Not a bad night but a strange second half. “I’m sorry for fucking up the last scene,” said Venus after the show. “It was a joint effort,” I assured her. Because it was. Everyone but Cheryl was floundering around. It’s always been 50/50 as to if some of the cues are gonna come or not, but that’s likely because it’s always been 50/50 as to the cue lines come out right or at all.

Problem with it is it’s a courtroom drama, that last scene, and everyone on that stage including myself is right brain dominant. So all the hierarchy nonsense means nothing to any of us, we are very just pretending. Then there are some lines that are very very similar. I think a crucial sound effect might be cued on the word “evidence” which is always gonna be carnage in a courtroom drama. We might need to rethink that. I know my way through it but the thought changes are often embedded in other people’s lines, some of which never come and others of which come out of order.

Thankfully the writer was on stage with us. She helped us get back on track…

We didn’t go so far off piste as it felt from within. We just hit a jolt, had a bit of improv, a few omitted interjections and slightly crazy tech. It caused me to switch into attack-barrister mode as I know a multitude of sins can be covered by attack and I was lost in it for a moment. I’m not the happiest that it’s the version that was filmed… My John was there tonight, but that last scene was a bit of a drop. We all tried to keep the internal logic thread, and succeeded. But we could have served it much much better between us, even if we had just allowed a moment of silence instead of running our mouths. Just a bit of funny sound cueing is enough to whack the brain out, it seems.

A lovely show at Luton. Madness. Delight. Onwards.

Tech went right to the wire in Bedford today. Barely time to do presets let alone warm up. There’s an ambitious amount of lighting state change and sound cueing going on. Venus our stage manager was worked to the bone today. Impressive work though. But we had to let the house in so there was no time at all for rolling around on the floor as is my wont.

As the play opened we didn’t really know if anything was gonna come out in the right order, including our lines. We’ve done it a few times but never under pressure and never with all the tech. My adrenaline was off the scale.

Problem is that immediately after my hardest scene I have to lie down on my front for ages and eventually be dead. Dead people don’t tend to bounce around lots. My heart was going like a jackhammer and I was lying on it. As Simon lay the shroud over me I thought I might have been bouncing up and down like a pogo stick. I wanted to pant like a hot dog to bring the rate down but all I could do was lie as still as I could and hope that my crazy heartbeat didn’t bounce me out of the theatre and into the parking lot like a Mexican jumping bean.

It’s a sign you care, that sort of adrenaline shock type reaction. But it’s also a sign you haven’t had time to warm up, frankly. I don’t get dicky legs anymore, haven’t since I trained and learnt to breathe. But it was close at that moment, lying heart down on the floor thinking about what the hell I say in my next scene, heart pressed to the stage and jumping. Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I haven’t got loads more to do so calm was a long way away. But I’m there now…

It’s a long drive back from Bedford. Both Venus and I regretted not making the decision to book a little Airbnb in Luton tonight. Nice to be home though now I’m here. The cats are fluffy and there’s an electric blanket which is on. I skipped dinner but had mushroom risotto for lunch. I’ll get up in the morning and cook eggs. Too late to eat now, it’s past midnight.

That was a treat. The audience really heard it, really got it. You never know what a thing is until you hear people listen to it for the first time. There’s a lot that was last minute, a lot that might have been more precise. But there’s a lot of joy in this thing we have. And tomorrow in Luton I expect there’s gonna be time for us to warm-up.

First night tomorrow. I’m still loving this bunch. It is a complicated and strange and wonderful piece of theatre. Unusual on purpose. I really respond to such things. I think of my favourite directors, how they all are in some way or another deliberately against the establishment.

So yeah I’m happy here making this thing. If you’re in Bedford tomorrow I know we could sell more tickets. Luton the night after. Then two nights at Playhouse East. It’s a short tour for something that has been so long in the becoming. Cheryl and Ellie and co have been eight years with this to get to where we are now. Eight years and fuck knows how many lifetimes. This is low budget theatre red in tooth and claw but for unusual principles, motivations, clarities, restructurings. This ain’t anything close to the stuff that annoys me where people just want to be looked at.

Of course we need to sell tickets for this though, and that energy in the cast does help sell tickets. We can’t afford to advertise for it and fuck knows how but Cheryl is able to pay us all. But I want this play to be seen. I want this work to be celebrated. I love these practitioners. Hopefully I’ll see some of you in the second half of this week.

Here’s the ticket link for this one. Come see. Pay money. Etc

Shameless plug done.

It’s a lovely bunch of coconuts.

Outside of that I’m just being functional and using Bergman as a vessel. Being reliable and physically safe. Carrying props if needed. Doing my job.

There’s never enough time in the day.

I got through the first thing I needed to record just in time. I was editing when the ventilator system in the block decided to go full on demonic and make a consistent loud rattle. The location of the sound really felt like the building was trolling me. I tried to get the maintenance guy out but he had clocked off early. It was egregious enough that I could let myself patternmatch a belief that he was watching me through the CCTV and cranked up the aircon when he realised I was recording then pretended to clock off so he could laugh at my distress. More likely the burst of heat that was released when I left my hotbox oven studio and pulled up the curtains to air it – that hit some sort of thermostat sensor and caused all the building fans to go into overdrive. It was cold air vented in from everywhere and something isn’t screwed in properly.

Almost always in these cases, the random reality bites harder than anything targeted. I was unlucky. I was under time pressure and feeling it and things outside my control weren’t perfect. Perhaps I should have started earlier but I wanted a lie in. As a result I didn’t have enough time to overcome the unexpected. That’s why we start early.

Still… I’ve got something done. I’ve done what I set out to do. It isn’t perfect and I want it to be perfect but art is messy and I am pretty sure the guy has enough to work with now.

Back at home and Brian cooked tortillas which was an unexpected delight and very welcome. I’m post prandial, happy of a day of work even if it didn’t go according to plan. My own stupid fault for not checking for edits. I’ll have a hot bath and an early bed. That sort of behaviour is habit forming.

I’m starting to properly understand my little soundoven now. It is functional and works very well in shifts. I spent too long on ladders looking for a thermostat control to stop the rattle, but as Lou says I just need to wear very little when I’m recording. I have wrapped the thing in fucking velvet now, stapled soundproofing to the outside of it, it’s good and I keep getting better at it. Should’ve made it years ago but never had the space. Long cold winter ahead. Unless they have noisy heating in that building it’s gonna be the best place to be. I’ll have to come up with some projects around my Santa commitments.

Mostly one thing.

Mostly.

I thought I would be able to have a nice day tomorrow prepping for Awaken Production Week. But getting home this evening I had an email from a studio engineer.

I’ve been reading a short story for an anthology. I read it a year ago so just used my annotated notes. Turns out the author has edited it and reworked some parts of it. Oops. The engineer must have thought I was randomly improvising large sections. I think he only got the courage to ask about it when he listened to the other story and I wasn’t making it up. So I’ll have to go back into my box and give new versions of all the edits.

Today was delightful at least. At Telos, running Awaken which will be my life for the next week but for tomorrow.

Sara has managed to get some chairs for the space, and also hung some small amount of serge. Any of you who know any theatre that has serge (aka blacks) that they are getting rid of, I know she’ll bite your hand off for it. She asked me to build the scaff tower and hang what little they had but it was the day I was at The Globe.

“There are loads of actors coming to help but we need someone who knows what they’re doing?” I responded: “I’m busy as is Canice, but I pretty much guarantee you there’ll be an actor who can work it out and upskill themselves in the process.”

Sure enough there was. That’s the joy of actors. You have a potentially very skilled workforce chasing an absurd dream. My best friend at school was an engineer. Things rub off. You’ll find actors who are very employable in many other walks of life. They are doing this thing they have to do, and as long as you can make space for that as an employer – the fact you’ll have to occasionally step aside if they get some filming etc – then you’ll get someone with a work ethic and a positive attitude and, randomly, some skill.

They’ve hung some half decent soundproofing. It doesn’t sound so cavernous anymore. Telos is a new thing and I really want well for them and now it isn’t so echoey they are gonna do their Racine.

Me? I’m gonna go into my booth tomorrow and try and finish this thing. It might turn into quite a long day which I’m not so happy about. There’s no fucking internet there so it might turn into something impossible but I might be able to rinse local cafes. Last time I broke my phone by tethering. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it tomorrow…

Siwan is extraordinary and I’m very happy to have become her friend. This evening we had a strong reminder from a coked up audience member of that truth. She agreed to record a thing for social media that definitely never needs to be seen by human eyes. Then she disappeared off to the bathroom for ages. But she LOVED Siwan.

Tonight was my last night on the Halloween Walk. Canice is on it now and Sam. I’m happy to have found people I trust to fill in for me. Neither of them are anything close to a like for like replacement, but that’s kind of better. The things I do are not the things they do. With stuff like this it is better to let charming people do whatever they do. I have my own eccentric full on delivery. Imitating it would be a hiding to nothing, it’s too personal and too immediate. Canice and I have shared jobs before, Sam has a work ethic you can see from miles away. The tour is in good hands, and if I’m free I’ll go watch it on the 1st and thoroughly enjoy not having to be the energy that sticks it all together. Because it is knackering.

Now I’m just back home, and the flat is full of people sleeping. Tom is in the sitting room trying to kip. I’m hungry though so I’ve booked a pizza. I thought I’d be good to just go to sleep but… reality bites. No way I’m going to sleep unfed even if it means staying up later than planned. I almost cooked a cassoulet I have in a can, but it’s just me and it would be too involved. With Tom asleep in here I only have a little window of light. So I’ll get expensive cheesebread.

Amazon was supposed to deliver a load of stuff to me for an upcoming job and they totally failed to deliver it, asking for a one time password even though people were home. Absurd little fuckers. I’ve never claimed something wasn’t delivered so that’s over the top as far as I’m concerned. It’s all just packing materials, but I need it all for a coming job.

Anyway, it’s pushing one and now finally I can focus on Awaken without obstacle. The next week I’ll have just one thing to think about. AND YOU CAN COME AND SEE IT! This one is trad theatre, fourth wall and all. Three different venues, there’s a director wot does directing. We had a rehearsal PROCESS. Kids, this is the bomb.

I’m very proud of and excited about Awaken. We are in Bedford, Luton and Playhouse East.

I’m at The Freemasons trying to regulate my temperature. I spent all day in bed with my laptop sending emails and listening to the rain hammering on the window. At one point I put pants on and closed the window properly so it wouldn’t blow in quite so hard. This storm is not fucking around. I saw a video this morning of part of the West Pier in Brighton collapsing into the hungry sea. As we gear up to plunge ourselves into darkness this night at the edge of winter, I knew I would have to be thrusting myself out into the heath again. And reader, I didn’t want to. I would like to be in a hot bath right now.

I edited and sent a short story. I like my reading of it. Haven’t heard anything from the engineer but he’s downloaded it.

Then I dragged myself into my car. The dream was to do my laundry. The reality was different.

I am wearing warm socks and all black. I’ve been waxing my cape. I don’t get much adrenaline for this these days and I fucking need it. None of us want to go out in this deluge. But I’ll put a face on. I’m gonna go get my cape and hat on. Oh hell. But somehow I still know I’ll enjoy it when it happens.

—

It was fun. It was wet. It was quick because it was fun and wet. I didn’t want to sit in it and nor did the audience. We went from place to place joyfully. But the rain was relentless for the first half.

Second half a respite and just wind. By the time I got home I was literally soaked to the skin and that’s with two capes on, one of which was waxed.

It went well. Now I’m back in bed. I think if I had my way I’d stay here for the next day until I start production week for Awaken. But no. There’s much to do. Oh joy.

Actually an unexpected moment happened just now. The Magdala. It’s a pub we love in Hampstead. We wanted to end the walk there every night, but it got temporarily shut down under very suspicious circumstances. The same way “team know how” from Curry’s found twenty year old mouse droppings behind an oven in my flat and used it as a reason not to install the new oven or take the old one down the stairs. If you know the game and have an agenda you can use regulations to your advantage. Apparently they found historic droppings in the Magdala somewhere and called it an infestation. Someone was in on it, I guarantee you. I call FOUL.

Tonight we ended the walk there. They’ve reopened, but the manager was leery of us stopping there every tour. She even tried to hit us with a minimum bar spend which was a bit “fuck you” but I like them so I rolled with it. Mostly we are going to The Garden Gate where they take your first born in exchange for badly casked lager. The nights the Magdala manager told us it would be okay to go to them, we will go to them, because I prefer them.

The Magdala had an excellent kitchen, excellent staff and was one of the best pubs in Hampstead. The negative stuff is about people wanting to turn it into flats. It’s such a shame. Money and greed using social media to try and destroy an important pub in the area, and one with proper history.

Pubs die all the time. Brian has a show about it. Choir of Man. It is always a loss to the local community when they go. Public houses are a way of bringing people together. They’re important for communities.

We had a great night tonight, and no rain despite expectations. And yes, that unexpected moment I referred to:

I left, told a couple of people I was leaving first. But I was trying to leave discreetly which is impossible since I’m wearing my hat and cape in order that there’s no possibility I’ll forget it. And everyone in the pub had been on the tour and suddenly I’m leaving a pub and someone starts it and suddenly literally everyone in there is clapping for us… For me under the circumstances. Yay etc. I’m the fruiting body of the mycelium that is Siwan. I’m visible in my big hat. It’s hers not mine but I’m the one shouting.

Waheyyyy etc. It was a pleasant validation. I just chatted shit to them for a few hours. We take the validation where we can though. And I’m fucking good at crowd-work now. Been doing it ages. Won’t do it for what they offer with most of the bad contracts across the major immersive shows in the industry. Often I see breakdowns looking for people with the skills I have where they want to try and pay them in buggery. No.

Anyway.

Tomorrow I reckon it’ll be soaking. I’ve bought some wax for my cape… Let’s see. It’ll still be fun even if it’s wet.