AlBarclay

Here I am with Canice, getting ready for the Sunday walk. He bought me a coffee. I gave him the industrial sewing machine that I was gonna give to Lou, so he can mess around with canvas on his boat. Lou didn’t like it. Too juddery. It still works but whoever had it last didn’t know how to use it and Lou knows what she likes well enough to know it isn’t that one.

He came for a costume fitting. Fitted the red slitted hose and jerkin perfectly. Hurrah. I’m feeling a lot more ready for Thursday now even though the line learning is playing at the back of my mind considering I’m driving down to see Lou tonight. I’m trying to train myself into being a bit less stressed out about these things though so I can do them and have a life at the same time. They’re happening frequently enough that it’s the only solution. This is what I do now. Random short performance man. Get me some telly, universe.

Tonight though, I improvise stories in the cold and the dark once again. There was a wonderful cat last night right by Flinders Petrie’s house. I ended up talking about cats and Egyptians and William Burroughs. I managed to make some of the stops a little creepier, which was my intention.

A lovely audience last night. It helped me remember why I love this weird Halloween job we’ve made. They were so up for it from beginning to end. We have our regulars, and there was a team at the core of it all who are modelling agents and who come every year. With their energy caught up in it it was largely impossible not to have fun as we went out into the cold and dark. There’s a bit of trouble with the Holly Bush, where there’s an overzealous bouncer who has been instructed by the landlord to monitor noise outside the pub. I’m currently at war with him a little bit. Joke war is still war. I made him into an angry ghost that hates noise. I taught the audience a chant to banish the ghost but it only enraged it further. It’s all mischief but it keeps me occupied. It’s a shame though, about the Holly Bush. Lovely pub, well located, landlord is a pig.

A few days of rest are definitely in order. I’ll be driving down to Lou tonight and I can’t wait. It’s worth the late drive just to know I’ll be there with her.

Time to start to switch my head into the walk. I have extended family coming tonight. That should be delightful. But I’m tired now. Three nights running only, but my rib is still a little owie and it’s a vigorous walk.

Back in the hot studio and I’ve worked out what was causing all those squeaky poppy noises and it’s so obvious. It’s not my mouth. I was reading off my phone, and have a plastic screen cover, and was constantly tapping and moving it to zoom in and out and change pages etc and that microphone is really sensitive and my phone much closer to it than my mouth so it was getting them all even though I’m too deaf to hear them. Every day is a school day.

So now I’m about to go in again and having had one read of it yesterday I reckon should be able to do it without much to edit this time. I’m learning how to make my errors visible too so I can edit nice and quickly. This’ll be a breeze today, he says… Unless that dog keeps barking.

—

One-bombed it. A couple of flubs, one noisy car and actually more time wasted turning the page (touching my screen) or clearing my throat or belching (!) than actually screwing it up. I think it’s a good way through it. It is coming up to a year to the day that I read that same story on film. I would have knocked it out much quicker if I didn’t find myself fighting technology. I very very nearly did the whole thing with the laptop failing to record it. Thankfully my stomach was loudly digesting something so I stopped right at the beginning in order to roll around on the floor a bit. Having it on the iPad is infinitely better. A nice big screen so you can get ahead of the text.

My voice is perhaps a little tired with all the Halloween shouting but I’ve still got my upper register. Believe it or not I’ve learnt boundaries on how much I overdo things. I love this walk and it is ours, we made it. But that’s no reason to fuck my voice up. People will respond how they respond. For the work we’ve put in, I’m glad of it. It’s a fixed bit of madness in the general swirl of madness.

That’s where I am now, with John and Joanna in pre-show. The rain is due to stop just as we start. I did one tour one year in an absolute deluge and it was delightful but a different route. I like this route. I like this team.

—

Time to get started. Hat and cape and game face on. Rain is just about to stop. Here we go.

Damn. Learning learning. I locked myself in a hot black box this afternoon and read a story. By the end I was puddled in sweat. I’ve just played it back and the gain was set too high, plus my mic positioning was too direct. You can hear the inside of my mouth. The delivery’s okay I guess but it sounds like I’m covered in slime and constantly oozing. Which sort of works for the story, but I’m doing this as part of an anthology of stories for an author I care very much about. I don’t want to turn in something that isn’t worthy not just of myself but of him and our relationship, which now stretches over decades and was formative. I’m annoyed with myself for not testing the position before I committed to reading the whole story. Overconfidence and self imposed time pressure. Plus a noisy mouth as I haven’t hydrated enough and I like milky coffee.

I’ve now gone online and apparently I was a decent distance from the mic – further than a fist but that’s what caused me to set the gain too high. I was going right into it though, popping to the side with my p and b plosives as I’ve been taught. But too direct to the mic. I wanted to make it sound intimate. It sounds like I’m licking you and telling you a story at the same time which sure is intimate, but might get a bit old over 40 minutes of slushy clicky wordy goodness.

I’ll try again tomorrow at a 45 degree angle and slightly above me. Also I have the gain cranked up to max. I have a feeling it can be much much lower so I’ll risk one tomorrow that is too quiet. Once I’ve sorted this tech stuff out the audio will be another thing I can bring to the table. But… like with a decent self tape environment, it’s an ongoing and involved process getting the environment working to serve the work as well as possible.

I’m sitting in The Freemasons Arms in Hampstead with headphones in, but I’ve just dropped the idea of editing this particular version to send to the sound engineer. I also really struggled to read it on my little phone screen so was more hesitant than I would normally be, reading on the word rather than a few words ahead… I’ll find a way to send it to my iPad tonight. Bigger screen innit.

So now… the next few hours are for finalising my stories for the Halloween Walk. First night tonight! I’ll still be refining the stories on my last night doubtless. Sometimes I try new stuff and it lands and I develop it, sometimes I try new stuff and it falls flat and I rethink. I’m gonna teach them all a rude sea shanty tonight I think. And instead of editing this slushy audio from today, I think I’ll sit here and dream up silly tales for the bits where I need to fill more time so they can run from place to place. And then record the fucking thing again tomorrow. Too much? Nah.

Over to Freston to do various things. It’s brilliant as a work away from home place. If only there was internet. I rinsed my phone data setting up the voice booth and ended up paying a fortune to add more.

Today I operated everything through my phone rather than tethering. I think my laptop tried to update over my phone last time. I blew 20 gigs in a minute.

Free hotel rooms in Jersey and free food came with a price in work. It was beholden on me to make content about them. You’ll see it on my oft neglected Instagram at @alecsparkly . It’s not something I’ve been in the habit of doing, that sort of content, but I’ve got the software from self tapes and over the course of two videos I had some very useful learns. I used my sound booth to record a narration. It’s dark in there because I let the light run out of battery and the light strip I bought isn’t chargeable like I thought, it has to be plugged in. It gets hot in there as well. I’ll be in there for an hour tomorrow and it’ll be sweaty at the end of it. I don’t really want to leave it until I’m done just as going away and coming back will affect the sound environment and might be jarring to listeners.

Still it’s a good thing. It’s a start. It’ll be useful.

Claud showed up and I fitted her in an Elizabethan dress with a bustle and corset. She’s gonna be helping out at The Swan for the next event. We are training her up. She’ll be great.

It’s a bit more up in the air than usual this one. Hard to judge what exactly the client wants. Lou is making a wall costume. We are doing what we can to make what we think they are after. I’m sure it’ll be fine. The amount of random stuff we’ve ended up doing over the last few months, this is just more of that surely. I find I genuinely care too much and it makes me worry too much.

November is filling up now. I keep thinking there’s gonna be a stop. I think though that the stop might be December. No Carol. No Underglobe. I am trying to avoid Santa. No Panto. Someone’s gonna hit themselves in the head or something and I’ll end up on stage with three days notice… But if not I just might have a peaceful festive season, calloo callay.

That’s more than I can say for the next few weeks. I’ll take my stops where I can but there are lots of things pulling my thoughts in lots of directions.

My only night off tonight for some time. I went to the Affordable Art Fair. Didn’t buy anything. Saw some friends and family. Left early. Going to bed early after a hot hot bath. Night.

AHH.

I’m knackered.

The dress rehearsal of our Halloween Walk. Joanna had met some lovely people who work at Fenton House. They came along to help make up audience, as did Jo who was in it for a decade. One friend had a group booked, totally forgot, and styled it that he was unexpectedly busy when I rang him asking when he’d arrive. I’m glad he forgot so completely that he picked up the phone to me. It meant I heard the penny drop but it also meant we didn’t waste time wondering if he’d show.

So it was me and five women out on the dark streets of Hampstead.

Considering that, it was very heartening to hear them genuinely laughing. I was trying out new material as I always do. This walk is closer in discipline to a standup routine than it is to an acting job, but it has the wonderful get out of jail free card that unlike standup, it isn’t supposed to be funny. I just have to talk to them. And the ladies tonight were all lovely and clever so it was fun.

We had a few pub changes last minute. The Magdala has opened again after greed tried to shut it so we will try and end there when possible. And the manager at our middle pub fucked it. We hadn’t met her in scouting or we would have read it by instinct… People like her get my back up. My instinct is to say yes to everything but snacks. That’s a good way to exist as far as I’m concerned. She’s a “no” person.

We had a great experience a few years ago with that pub, but it all stands or falls on the management. We are asking unusual things in exchange for more punters at a busy time. We are predictable and disciplined, but we operate on nights when pubs are crowded.

Her being an instinctive “no’ person manifests as borderline rude. Having just had a wall in our faces, we walked 2 minutes up the hill to The Duke of Hamilton. We walked in to the Duke having just been repelled, and literally before we had even asked they recognised us and said “Do you need to store some stuff?” They were thrilled to see us, we used them last year, we weren’t gonna use them this year, but they won it right there at the last second. So we rejigged it. Now we’ll go through them instead.

We wanted to bring it to the smaller pub down the hill and we had arranged it as such. We know it can be good for places like that to have guaranteed custom. But everything suddenly felt like it would be too difficult.

Tonight we asked for somewhere to temporarily store a box of masks for the dress rehearsal while we worked out the logistics. She didn’t even ask what they were, how long for, showed no curiosity at all. “There’s no space at all,” she said, with a cellar beneath her feet and an empty private area above her head. “Absolutely none,” she insisted.

Once we knew The Duke of Hamilton were okay with us stopping there instead, we told her to strike us out of the diary. Communication had been tricky anyway between her and Siwan – this was not the first alarm bell.

We told her and she suddenly came across all passive aggressive with “I’m sorry if I “offended” you.” on repeat.

She hadn’t offended us. She’d blocked us, sure but more importantly she’d exposed an instinctive “no” which is Creativity Death. No point wasting time when you hear that knell.

You’ll notice I haven’t named her pub and I won’t. This isn’t a vendetta. It’s just a bad personality alignment. We are Peculiar London. We like Peculiar People.

Book a ticket!!!!! This Sunday we are so undersold it is almost worth cancelling. Go on!!!

Fun fun fun fun etc etc etc etc

This morning I woke before the dawn even though I didn’t have to. I went out into the garden of my wonderful room at The Somerville and watched the dawn. My last morning at that lovely hotel. Good to make the most of it.

I took it easy today. Let myself rebuild after filming. Didn’t put any pressure on myself to DO even though I was in Jersey. A full English breakfast. Then I checked out. I had a full meal at Tides Restaurant last night. Sure I paid for my drinks but everything else was on the room. When I checked out I half expected them to hit me with unexpected charges. Instead I got an unexpected compliment. “Your style, your clothes and the way you are – all the staff are talking about you. I’m glad you had a good stay.” I’ve been nice to them and I’m twenty years younger than the average punter there. It felt like he was being pleasant to me, not concealing a barb. I walked away smiling. Nice to feel relevant when you’ve just been the old guy on set.

“We should do more of these. I’ll be your Peter Cushing,” I told the director.”Fuck yeah,” he agreed and showed me some incredible stills on his phone that I can’t share. I’m genuinely quite stoked at what this tight knit Jersey team have achieved. I think it’ll look beautiful.

“After today I’m gonna forget about this until it’s made. I want to be able to watch it without remembering my acting choices.”

It’s hard to watch yourself. I hate it, but I’ve got better at it because of self tapes. I feel for Andy the director, going solo into the edit. He’ll have to watch himself acting a lot. He never did too much though so I think he’ll forgive himself. And he’ll have to spend a long time looking at my big long face too. By December I reckon he’ll have as many lifetime “looking at Al Barclay face” hours as I did at the age of 40.

I barely recognised him this afternoon without his goatee – the missus made him shave it immediately after we wrapped. I was driven into St Helier by a fresh faced young slip of a fellow.

Then absolute whistle stop catch-ups in town with an old schoolfriend (ten minutes walking while he mostly took phone calls) and a very quick catch-up with Adam, who took me to the airport.

Up and down is so quick. The flight was to Gatwick. Took me no time to get home from there. Jersey is currently accessible – even with the fuel crisis it was £35 to fly back this evening, all in.

I’m happy to be home. Switching my head again again. Halloween now, and perhaps an audio book recording if I’m up early enough. To which end, goodnight goodnight my darlings goodnight!

I’m in bed in one of the Garden Rooms at The Somerville Hotel in St. Aubin Bay. It’s one of my favourite parts of the island and this room is a treat and a revelation.

We finished the filming today for Bread. It’s a film about sacrifice and fear, need and desire. It’s a folk horror short, beautifully shot on a shoestring. Core team was an experienced director, DOP, Sound and Lead. Everyone else working upskilling. A happy set though and the basics were covered. We were incredibly well looked after by local Jersey businesses. I’ll likely name them all in later blogs as I’ve felt very involved in this process since arriving here and seeing what people have given to help make this a thing.

I didn’t really fully understand the extent to which the film is gonna be about me experiencing things. But yeah it’s me and my beard vs the ineffable. There’s virtually no dialogue. It’s about light and feeling. It’s film. And a very lot of my face.

“Jen is a great contrast to Al,” says the DOP. “She looks so young and fresh whereas Al …” and he glances up at me and isn’t sure if he should finish the thought. He’s been looking very closely at my face for ages and I’m not made up here. It’s his job to look at my face and he’s getting me raw, I didn’t tend my beard on purpose. I’m chaos. I try and finish his thought for him with a smile: “Whereas Al looks like he’s been through the fucking wringer backwards because he fucking has.” I’m ten years older in years than the next oldest person on set and “I’ve seen things”…

It’s in the edit now and the DOP is upbeat about my craggy face. “Some people look beautiful off camera and look flat on camera. Some people look weird off camera but they ping out on film. You’re one of them.” The sound guy is sound and the director is a mad delight. Everyone seems happy with what’s in the can. Apparently I’ve given a great performance so now it’ll be put together however it is put together, my work is done, I only have to try and show up for the premier and then see how it does in festivals. If it gets through the edit. There’s plenty of stuff I’ve done over the years that died after the shoot. But I’ll enjoy the feeling of a happy set tonight.

I’m in a certain amount of pain this evening. I’ve already told you the director isn’t an actor but he’s in it anyway for budget reasons. Before the fight I tried to teach some rudiments, the aikido stuff and curves versus direct. Only once and in the heat of the moment his opening move was an open palm directly to my rib with his full body weight behind it. I had tried to say “avoid impact at all costs, you can sell impact with the reaction and pulling away at speed”. I don’t really blame him but in the heat of that moment he bruised my rib. It’s not broken, but it’s a rib I broke once by skiing into a metal pole to win a race. That kicked off all the fun with double pneumonia, lung collapse and a year off school. I’ll keep an eye on myself this time. I’m not a teenager with parents who are divorcing this time so I’ll action it if I start to feel my lungs filling with mucus.

Bread. A Jersey film, here where we all have currency with the French language as well as Jerrais. Bread. Pain.

I have my way through the journey of the character. We’ve tried to avoid answering questions whenever possible. But I’m in pain tonight because of that bread. But … I’ll be reet. And this footage we took this weekend, I think I’ll be able to stand by it for a long time.

Half past eight. I just went to The Muddy Duck, which is my favourite place to eat in Jersey. It didn’t exist when I was living here but I found it by happenstance just after it opened about eleven years ago. Since then I go back whenever I can, even if I’m only here on the island for a couple of days.

The hardest day on set for me tomorrow by a long chalk. I’m gonna have to fight and die. I’m also gonna have to find an authentic journey through that. There’s a lot of action in this script and very few words, as film should be. I only have to tender my journey, really. But we are a small unit. And the director has put himself into the film despite not liking acting. He can serve it when he has to, he just doesn’t want the lens. Tomorrow, I’ll need to make him take his time over things and I’ll need to persuade him that he needs a close-up when we square off to fight about the bread. I think if I don’t suggest it as a shot he’ll skip it. He is good at the stitching but he’s deliberately stitching over himself knowing he’s not an actor but he couldn’t find one.

That said I trust his vision. The DOP is local and is genuinely excellent. The Sound Guy is a sound guy as well, as they weirdly always are. He’s the only crew member with a Leatherman on his belt. (I didn’t have mine as hand luggage only, so couldn’t do the old surprise actor tool use). He made a hole in my belt. No wardrobe department here. This is a skeleton set. No gaffer. Skeleton lights. But… we are so fine with the skeleton team we have.

This is a local Jersey film with a few deep practitioners in core roles. There are four of us who know their role deeply, and at least the four of us know our roles very well. Director. DOP. Sound. Lead. You can make something good with that square even if everyone else is learning.

“I don’t know if this island could support a native gaffer,” one of the lads says. And perhaps they’re right. Gaffers need a van really, and if most of the work is on the mainland then they are at the mercy of the weather to get their equipment over. Lights are both precious and heavy. We have been shooting outdoors, so natural light directed via diffusers and canopies.

This is low budget film but the team is good. There’s a shot at something here. If this works, if the sound design matches what we already have in the can, if tomorrow works out, if if if THEN…

One thing at a time though.

Also just generally a helpful tip: if you’re playing the lead in a woodland shoot where there’s just one rented portaloo a long way from shot, don’t ask for hot noodles the night before no matter how much you love spicy food. It was touch and go at points today. I managed to make it work. But some of the pain in my eyes wasn’t feigned.

I landed at Jersey airport about an hour ago. Was sitting at the back of the plane so I disembarked right away. Walking down the gangway I looked up and there’s a little bit of rooftop where mum and Peggy and Oz would often stand to wave at us as we landed. As my foot hit the tarmac of the land where I was born I hit a wave of unexpected emotion. I haven’t been here since Christmas Carol.

I waved at the ghosts and they waved back. And I was met at the exit and bundled into a Renault. We drove down roads I’ll never forget to St Helier. I am staying in The Omaroo hotel.

A brief talk with the director. He is very much invested in running this shoot properly. It’s a short but he cares about it. I have faith he will make it well.

Apart from the new Bergerac which was mostly shot in fucking Devon there isn’t much being filmed over here and there’s scope for it. Sure it rains a lot, but there are landscapes and seascapes, there’s big skies and history. When I was approached about this magical short it immediately played to my tastes. It’s a bit pagan, a bit edgy, it has a voice. My grandmother was a witch here. She would tell me of spirits she spoke to. Her spirit has become very active in my life recently again through Cheryl and Awaken in London. Of course the best way to reconnect with the dead is to hang out with people who talk to them for a living. And I have a feeling peggy’s part of the reason I’ve been flown over here for three days to make this film. Still working hard behind the scenes. I’ve been talking to her again.

I went down to the beach just now, stood in the dark and listened to the roar of the sea. This island still pulls a bit of my heart with the word “home” every time I come here, much more than The Isle of Man.

“I’ve told everyone to call you Mister Barclay unless asked otherwise,” I’m informed. “Probably better if you maintain that separation.” I actually understand that part of the game better now than I used to. The star is the star and it helps morale if we all pretend they’re special because otherwise why the heck are we all working so hard ironing these trousers in the rain and holding up these reflectors in the wind? And this time it happens to be my turn to wear the silly hat. Great. I know how to wear it now.

I bought a book at the airport. That was an early observation of people I admired at work on set. They stay self contained and easy to find, and then they show up when the camera rolls. If you’re spending all your energy being social you’re spent in the crucial shot. And the most important shot of the film will be tomorrow afternoon.

I’m gonna get in the bath. This is a delightful thing. I have been overextended recently. I didn’t expect to be but I’m so glad of it. What a treat to have three things I care about all running alongside each other. But I don’t get to see Lou as much as I want to.

“Are you still with the wonderful woman who read my i-Ching?” That’s the director. And yes. Thank the lord. We are gonna catch each other soon… “Tell her to come out and stay in your hotel rooms while we do the shoot!”

Tonight and tomorrow The Ommaroo. Then The Somerville. Both are being very generous and The Ommaroo have put me up in a fine room with a HUGE bed. Which I need to get into. Breakfast at 6:30. Dawn just after 7:20. Carpe Diem tomorrow.