“Well that was fucking pointless,” says the woman in the cubicle next to me as we emerge from our showers. I’ve never before been disappointed to discover that a festival shower was warm. But this is what we are up against today.
Inside a tent in this heat we all tried to top and tail the entrances and exits of Macbeth without letting the heat make us fractious. It didn’t really work. We all got pretty hot and bothered.
In about twenty minutes I’ll go and put on thick woolen clothes and tights and boots and all of it. Even a hat. Maybe some armour. Then I’ll try and remember Banquo and Old Seward and an apparition. And then I’ll drive to London and sleep on my own sofa.
Right now though I moved Bergie to a better place for a swift exit, and I’m sitting in him with the engine running and the air con blasting on full because it is the only way I’ll ever get less hot. I love it, this blistering heat. The world is dying because of people like me putting the aircon on. We put the aircon on because the world is dying. Sure we could sort it out still and we would if it was more profitable than killing it. But it isn’t yet. So it’s still Choose Death for now and all the bought people will try and say “but it was hot in the summer of ’76!” and use that as an excuse for inaction. At least I know it’s hypocritical of me to be sitting here with the aircon on. Oh but it’s nice.
—
I’m out of it. Back in the relentless heat. My fresh clothes are already pretty wet and I only showered half an hour ago. The water in my flask is hot hot hot so I bought some Vimto from the coffee concession as its been iced. Now I’m gonna have to stop writing and do this show in my hot hot costume. Also my phone screen is too sticky for me to swipe.
—
Wow. That was a sweaty business. It really was. We all felt it. Hard graft, Shakespeare in this heat. Neither Banquo and Macbeth wore their armour to war. Nor did old Seward. He was just in a George’s Cross Tabard. And I wore my T-shirt under it all as I’ve learnt about sweat now. We won. And there were some wonderful moments that could never be replicated, which is what I’m here for in the end.
And at the end of the show there was a voicenote.
Bergie was primed! Right outside the exit, pointing away, full of fuel. My shoes on the passenger seat to change into. I had it all worked out. But owing to possible illness and this mad heatwave, the rehearsal has shifted onto zoom. So I’m likely gonna drive off site and find a peaceful place with good mobile phone reception where I can be on zoom in and around my car and show up without having to drive seven hours. I was up for it, I’m always up for it. But never look a gift horse in the mouth. I get to stay in Salisbury.
So I’m in my tent, it’s barely midnight, someone is snoring nearby. The shuffles and grunts of people windinh down are audible. I’m on my air mattress which will slowly deflate overnight but it’ll get me through. I lent my better one to a couple in the company. And I can stay here and plug into the Antony and Cleopatra stuff we’ve got going instead.
Summer plus. It seems every time it gets properly hot this year I sleep in a tent and mostly live outdoors. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
