A little rented flat in Greve d’Azette.
Will got a flat cos he’s a new dad. There are stage managers to put up, and yeah maybe it was cost effective to put us all in the Premier Inn. I’m here now, in the town where I was born, where I want to move back… In a Premier Inn.
Christmas was at Will’s though. He had an oven. I wish it had sold better. The show was brilliant. But all that aside, today we made Christmas.
Over in London, Brian was doing however many for the annual orphans. Here in Jersey it was me, Will and Ciara, Aylar and Brad. A new community. I still blew loads on unnecessary fripperies.
Christmassy Christmas.
I am so proud to have brought professional work to this island. It needs it. But they don’t expect it. I imagine it would be even worse in The Isle of Man. There’s fuck all happening in Jersey. But the theatre things that have happened over the years have been enthusiastic amdram for a tenner a pop. “Jersey really needs this quality of thing,” said literally everyone. That’s all very well and true, but if they rehash an opinion piece from their smaller paper as an extremely late review in their main paper… I rarely get on my high horse, but this is not about my or Will’s performance: The producers made a tight and complete piece of theatre. Next year it might sell out… This year everyone had a ball. But we were totally fucked over by the local paper and by the admins of the local groups. Small town mentality, sadly. I had to learn it hard. Next year, if it is practical, we need to build in opportunities for locals. It is nice that I want to move back. But I’m not a local. And Jersey is a boat in the rain, full of people who think they are the captain.
Hopefully I will sail on the 27th. Who knows where I’m going.
AlBarclay 