Quiet Saturday with language

Off to a unit in Old Street much like the one I’m looking for, where Callum has a large selection of glorious Elizabethan costumes and props. Bottom heads and Chanticleers and boxes of ruffs. I ended up with a green jerkin for Fluellen and a nice top for Burgundy. What the fuck am I doing? It’s like The Factory but I don’t know these people, we will have posh clothes on, and we are only working off cue scripts. I’m playing Fluellen at a history festival in Wiltshire.

Years ago I was asked to play Fluellen by the OH Players, the AmDram outfit associated with my old school. My willingness led me to say “yes” to them for a while with Don Pedro and Shylock but then it got like too much work. I care deeply about my career. I can’t be involved really, it does no good. The last time I was asked, it was for Fluellen. He’s Welsh. “I only do these parts if I think the learn will be useful professionally down the line,” I said. “I’ll never be asked to play Fluellen professionally.”

Bugger. I couldn’t have expected that.

I’ve got a lot of prose to learn now, look you. And it is in a Welshish Shakespearey accent – that’s in the text, look you. I’ll have to make sense of it. Playing Burgundy as well. He at least gets to be delightful and versey. It’s probably for the best I didn’t do Flu back in the day, for many reasons. But I’ve got prose to learn. Fuck it. I eat verse. Prose is slow.

Summer is a good time for Shakespeare though, and energetically this festival feels like a right thing. New friends, passion and work. It should be joyous.

For now though I’m home and knackered. The day started in the dump trying to offload loads of paint and contaminated Euro Crates. They wouldn’t let me dump a tiny amount of white spirit and polish because its flammable so it is better to book an appointment to have it safely disposed of instead of finding a drain and just pouring the fucking stuff into it. Less than two litres in total. Still, I made progress. Horrid glass covered books, done and recycled. A Bergman load, emptied. I need to do at least two more next week.

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Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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