AlBarclay

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.

Today felt like a series of remarkable alignments.

Up at Sprite one day I remember It was standing at the edge of the walled garden talking to Jon and someone hadn’t shown up to one of his corporate gigs. At the time I was doing what I thought was right to build my skill and my contacts. I look at it now and I know I was working too hard for nothing. But back then I remember learning what the actor would have been paid, and wondering how the fuck they wouldn’t show up.

Jon clocked my indignance and he was misunderstood on the Sprite job as well. The director was putting energy into waste, and making it harder for him to turn in the excellent performance he turned in. We became friends in his adversity.

Jon started using me for the corporate gigs. Then when he decided to drop it, the baton passed to Ffion and I. And there we were today. Ffi and I are sufficiently different that it works. We are both absurdly busy at the moment but we’ve managed to just just just make everything that everyone needed for the thing today. It is an extremely positive creative partnership. We piss each other off but we love each other and we are both pointing the same way and we allow space for each other.

They wanted all sorts of AI stuff. We presented them with a script. We built it, I paid Lou to make a crucial costume, Ffi brought her sister in. Outside of the two of us we employed three actors today.

I even made Canice learn and deliver a sonnet. “That’s the first formal acting I’ve done for ten years,” he says. And he is fucking brilliant, every time, always. And this is the joy of the address book that I’ve got now. Joanna as The Wall, with a wall of really hard text, and not only is it learnt, it is learnt with attack because she is Joanna. Claude with sonnets and a clear legit and authoritative delivery. Ffi and I are there for the ease around it being a first gig like that for most. I kept my mic on to do occasional Voice of God, as the client kept moving the timings and the requirements.

Then home. A very happy client and jobs for those we love. This is how it should be.

An evening zoom to Australia, and another collaboration being discussed. Old friends coming together, this is an alignment of the mystic, crossing the world. Deep deep things and wonderful possibilities, and yeah, actually, this is what I signed up for. I never wanted it vanilla. I never wanted it easy. I wanted it to be weird and bright and forever fresh and possible. I was cash broke for decades while I looked for it. Now I’m here, still only just threading it together but doing so with expensive tastes and so long as I have time to pull that fucking ridiculously expensive Canterbury storage out then things are manageable in this damn city. Just about. Within reason.

No time for thinking. Much time for being.

Lou and I left in convoy this morning. I knew I wouldn’t be going back so she booked a justPark so she could get the train back. I absolutely still rate that service.

Tomorrow I’m going to one near The Globe for our gig there. I looks tiny but it exists. And £24 for the day in Southwark is, surprisingly, a good price, despite the collapse of NCP.

I’ll make it work. We are offloading costume at 9 so I’m gonna need to be up at like 6 to make sure of it all as the costume is still in Latimer Road.

We had a read through tonight of something that is so far down the line I almost can’t be bothered to credit its existence. But it’s a good script. Just not one I can look at yet or care about yet. Nice to connect with people. I didn’t connect too much. I’m too busy with other things. But the part could have been written for me and the things I do and care about doing. It’ll be a thing when there’s headspace.

Today we stopped at Crawley to change vehicles. Then we stopped at North Acton to pick up a sewing machine. Then to Sloane Square and tube into town for a matinee of Hayfever. This is a badly kept secret present from Lou.

I love that old stuff. Of course I do. Facebook reminds me that 19 years ago this week I was in Norfolk playing Victor in Private Lives. That job brought many more. I’m very happy and well placed in that stuff, and it used to be everywhere. The industry when I entered it was all about surviving to now, when I would be eminently employable. I survived but the stories changed. There’s still room for 50 year old posh white men but we aren’t the only story anymore. It took a lifetime for the world to adapt away from me and it seemed almost to adapt as I aged it on purpose. I’m happy to still have use – we aren’t sympathetic anymore, but I’ve always enjoyed playing baddies. I’ve seen enough wish fulfillment fantasy where some guy my age has written what they think they are.

I loved Hayfever today in the West End. Well cast across the board, I felt everyone was comfortable in their part, none more than Christine Baranski who absolutely owned it. They are selling it partly on the Grant name over hers, but she’s the star of it. He’s a proper actor though and has perspective. I was lucky enough to spend a day on set in the winnebago next to Richard E Grant. He took me under his wing bless him. It was my first job out of drama school and I was starstruck. I got to hang out with Withnail. And he was fun and kind and left me feeling like I could have a wide and strange career. Which I have.

Tessy is going bananas trying to get into the wardrobe next to me as I write. Outside that it is extremely peaceful here.

A simple routine. When I come down it is the weekend at the moment, and that’s been the vibe. Up in the morning and out seeking coffee and I liked the look of an Indian Restaurant we stumbled on by mistake. Then back here for a zoom rehearsal which was really helpful just keeping the ball in the air regarding Awaken, but I was freezing so did it in my coat with hat and scarf. Didn’t want to be shivering. Lovely to connect with them and that work again. I think it’ll come easy when we get into production week but I’ve still got two more projects to deliver and the last three tours before it becomes my next one.

Halloween is now automatic. I can riff with it, it doesn’t hurt my head beforehand, it is a happy place for me. Just forty people and all I have to do is be charming and witty and audible. That’ll probably be what they put on my gravestone so it isn’t costing me anything. I think I’d sooner have “So you’re still alive…”

So yes, I sat in the window and tried to remember my lines. And then Lou finished making a Wall costume for Thursday while I puddled around looking for mushrooms.

A little clutch of Wood Mushrooms. Didn’t stain yellow so not yellow stainers which are sicky. I’m still not good enough to be certain they aren’t bad amanitas though – I’d take a spore print if I was considering eating them but actually they are only my second positive on a wood mushroom… Agaricus Silvicola. Brown gills, ring on it. My rule is three strikes on the same mushroom with second opinion confirming before I can eat the damn thing, which seems stringent but when you have things like these which grow in the same habitat plus look very like the ones that murder you no matter what, it’s the least you can do really, to check properly. Life is fun. By and large.

This evening we went to the Indian. No time like the present. Had a perfect vegetarian meal for two for 32 quid. That’s the joy of not being in London and staying off the sauce.

A change of pace. No pubs and no shouting. I’m not even cramming lines even if there are lines to cram. I’m chilling with Lou and Tessy. We didn’t really want to put any pressure on ourselves to “do”. My body is tired so various bashes and bruises feel worse than they are. So… I’m happy to have little walks and look at nature and groom cats. The shouting and the pubs can wait. They’ll still be there when I’m rested.

We walked through an orchard and grabbed a good pile of windfall apples. Washed them and chopped them fine and made a crumble. From tree to tract in about two hours. Potatoes and veg. This morning we did go out for breakfast. I realised that I had essentially eaten a single crappy pizza and some bar snacks in the 48 hours beforehand. Halloween walkies messes with my appetite. Not to do with nerves, just routines. So a couple of days looking after myself can only be a good thing.

Being here with Lou today has been a little bit like being in an Enid Blyton book. Full English Breakfast and a jolly good walk down to the river. Gosh are those people supposed to be fishing? Oh what a happy dog you have sir. Apple crumble? Have to find some apples first. Ooh that one’s still good, let’s gather some. Back home, isn’t it a little bit chilly? Let’s chase the cat around and run a hot bath. Oh no, the hot bath isn’t hot! Can you put some medicine on my owie?

This is what people do when they aren’t paid to shout in public, it seems. Who knew? I almost feel… Rested?

Zoom rehearsal tomorrow morning just to make sure I don’t get too complacent. Then another afternoon of lovely restfulness. Can we feel the bed slats? Gosh, best put a blanket down. Zzzz

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.