I spent the day in The Harrow School Speech Room. There’s this old tradition of turning it into an Elizabethan Theatre. They’ve got rid of the columns now though and mothballed the costumes so we are doing this modern dress, more’s the pity. Toby is clever though. The son of an English teacher who helped ignite my love of Shakespeare – we did As You Like It. I didn’t understand it in the slightest as an acting text through him, but the story made sense and there were lots of interesting little observations. His son is a good director and a good actor. I’m glad he’s flying the flag for this tradition. I’ve been out of the mix for ages as just didn’t have the time or inclination to do it, but I need to learn Marc Antony for The Factory anyway, and there’s nothing like a deadline where an audience is gonna know damn well if you haven’t put the work in.
There on the stage, observed by portraits of some of the better remembered alumni – Churchill, who didn’t enjoy it when he was at school, Jawaharlal Nehru who said that his time at Harrow helped solidify his anti-Imperialism. Various other dignitaries. One of them will play the Soothsayer, his first entrance beneath his portrait. They all stare down over the ranks of chairs as we hack our way. First half today. I’m quiet right up until I have to do Friends Romans Countrymen and then just a bit of shouting and I’m in the pink.
There are plenty of people who have been at this OH game for decades. Ricky Ritchie I remember from when I was a boy. He does a great job at Cinna the Poet. I never felt we made sense of it at The Factory, as our Cinna always seemed to know he was gonna get torn apart. Ricky is playing to win, like we should have been. You find your lessons everywhere.
Late finish though, 9pm. I’m knackered. I’ve run a hot bath as I’m gonna suggest to Toby that my servant might help me with lifting Caesar. There’s no spare flesh on Ollie, he’s skinny and buff. But I’m not gonna fuck my back for the next ten years doing firemans lifts at my old school. I need people to refer to me as “spritely” when I’m eighty. Belly is gonna have to go.
On which subject I bought porridge and bananas and some fish cakes at Tesco. Came out with two bags for less than I might have spent on an oven lasagne and a bottle of wine. This having to watch my food thing might be a good moneysaver, which is for the best because I keep getting emails from my agent to say they’ve taken the pencil off.
Bath is run, and I made myself a chamomile infusion and it is revolutionary. New things. Gotta keep finding them. I’ve largely exhausted the cornucopia of booze options. Ooh a nice cup of flowers in water? Don’t knock it. I feel relaxed and happy.
AlBarclay 