This is why I do this sort of thing.
This evening was a validation of my quest for joy. I arrived at the van very much not in the right headspace. I had driven in, realised I’d left all the cups at home. Disaster! One can’t take tea without cups. Heavens to Betsy!
The van was already wired for power, and the tunnel was too crowded to reverse up. I had to get a black cab back to get the things in time for the show. We got stuck in traffic, and I ended up having to get involved in a scheduled video conference call using unfamiliar software on the line to M&C Saatchi about creative things related to a spot of lovely work I have coming up. I’ve never spoken to these people before. There are police sirens blaring past the window, the cabbie making conversation, me having to pay him on arrival. So much for my plan.
I wanted to have taken the call whilst reclining in a chaiselongue inside the van interior we built. Maybe some lights, a cigar, a silk robe. “Ahh I’m the talent. You find me at rest. How are you my darlings.” No such luck. Black cab, bag of cups, sirens and a geezer who wanted money. Make your first impressions count, kids.
Thankfully the client is a friend and it’s a done deal already, otherwise I’d be filing that with “video audition nightmares”. The creative team are probably worrying about me now which is great as they’ll be double happy when I go to the shoot and turn out to be on it and professional. One of my most fruitful and enduring creative partnerships, with the joy that was Sprite Productions – that started up with them worrying about me when I drove to Yorkshire a day early by mistake, leaving my luggage in London. My work is the bit that works, though. It’s the rest that goes blooey.
I made it back to the van a bit spun out though, knowing in a semi resigned semi amused way what had just occurred. My dear friend was shadowing me on the show as she’ll be covering me when I’m filming for the website, Gods bless her. She’d just given blood. I was halfway through improvising a story about the sexy devil taking my name when she almost passed out, and went home. I always could knock ’em dead.
I went to the loo. In the queue I ran into the eminent theatre critic, who said lovely encouraging things. This is why I love her. I strode back to the truck determined to change my head for a better one.
I’ve got all my mystic stuff in the van. If I can do it for others I can do it for myself. So I chanted the heck out of myself, got stuck into the Palo Santo and Florida Water, and generally cleared out the contents of my head. Then I went out there and got a load of people to come play with me. They did. It was immense fun. The last person in was a thoughtful and very well traveled American man. He completely got it, appreciated what we were doing, had a clearly very emotional tarot reading from Mel, and then sat with me for a good twenty minutes with tea and ceremony before heading back out with the best soundbite be could ask for in terms of a review. “Everything about this is just perfect.” We should put that on the poster…
Get your tickets here.
Spread the word. First weekend of shows coming up! Aaaaaa