Just returned from paying in night. Actually that's rather an odd name. It used to be the time when people turned up to hand over all the money for the tickets they had sold. That's a long, long time ago. Now we are mainly paying out. Funds to all those who have run up huge credit card bills on behalf of the group by spending on wood, paint, props, materials etc. Strange how the old names stick.
Our party on Saturday night involved a moderate amount of drinking on my part but some outstanding word games with Ysabell, Albert, box office, high priest, director him and a whole range of others from time to time. This went on for a couple of hours. We all found out one thing. Don't pull your willie instead of the ripcord when using a parachute. Sound advice.
I was drinking Wychwood and Hobgoblin. Two of the ales in a case of 12 presented to me after the show in the bar. Black Magic chocolates too. But the things which mean the most to me are the card signed by all the cast, complete with photograph of DEATH and Mort and wonderful calligraphy, and the clapperboard and film reel with director her, director him and producer's names and the dates of the show written on.
Ysabell and Albert dropped secretary and me off at about 3.30am. The clocks had gone forward. What a nightmare.
We made it to set break at just after 10am, with footnote already in the kitchen putting her promise of bacon sausage and egg butties for the early arrivals into practice. I joined her, in the spirit of Harga's House of Ribs, having initially got to grips with some flats with a screwdriver. Then it was time to load up the van and take it to the shed. Amazingly this only took one trip as opposed to the three or even four it has often taken in the past. High priest, Albert, director him and producer unloaded and stowed away all the flats, platforms, chairs, stools and other assorted oddities and we were back to the hall in record time. We ended up sitting down eating a roast dinner in The George pub at the back of the hall car park by 3pm. When we got home, secretary and I both slept the sleep of the just and arose for only a couple of hours before returning to sleep more.
Today was fabulous. Warm and sunny. I spent a lovely hour or so with director her walking her dogs in Virginia Water, blowing the strains and aches of the week away, while secretary had the aftermath of a week of heavy make-up removed with a facial. Then the three of us spent a couple of hours over lunch and drinks outside the Rose & Crown chewing the fat about the aftermath of the show. Very relaxed and very pleasant. Certainly better than having to go back to work for the day.
So the sums are being done and we will find out how financially successful we have been. In terms of ticket sales, we have shifted a bigger percentage than any show since Stags & Hens in 2004 and before that Aladdin in 2002. Most of the costs seem to be under budget, so hopefully we will be in good shape. Director him will no doubt tell us at our committee meeting next Wednesday.
We also await the review from the National Operatic and Dramatic Association who came to see the show on Saturday night. This review is being done by a new rep, so there should be no holds barred as she doesn't know anyone from any past show. I know what I think, but I look forward to seeing it in print.
Thought for the day: 'Fly away on my zephyr, I feel it more than ever, And in this perfect weather, We'll find a place together.' The Zephyr Song. Red Hot Chili Peppers. Director her was playing it in her car. Tops.
Monday, March 26
Sunday, March 25
And so we face...
The final curtain. It has come and gone. The last two days went by in a blur. Out with Mother and Dad for lunch on Friday. Evening show. Curry. Coffee with them here on Saturday morning. Frantic rush around. Saturday matinee. Frantic rush between shows. Saturday night show. Party. Set Break. Post set break lunch. Sleep. All quite straightforward...
Well of course it's not straightforward otherwise I would have stopped there. It misses out the fact that secretary and I took Mother and Dad to the pub where acolyte has just started working for their lunch. Well to the Italian Restaurant section around the back. Very nice too. It misses out my long conversation about money and presents with director her outside the pub. It ignores the fact that once we had dropped them off at their hotel we raced into Slough for me to pick up a cake and present(s) for high priest's birthday. It doesn't mention that after that secretary and I then sped over to Taplow for her to buy a variety of things at a couple of shops.. while I was told to wait in the car. And it doesn't explain why we need to hold production meetings to discuss the set up for my special performance with my toes and bottom. Sorry, you had to be there. Well rather, you had to be part of the text communication. Only set man, box office, previous producer and secretary will have the faintest idea what that's all about. Hey-ho.
Friday's show was great fun. Maybe the thought of a curry afterwards stirred everyone into action. Maybe I was concious of Mother & Dad being in the audience. Maybe it was the fact that we had to squeeze in some tables at the back to accommodate the extra sales. But the finest performance of the night came from producer and Cutwell in the male dressing room as they were getting changed after the show, with a stream of witty conversation masking the full blown lovers' tiff that was raging behind them. Introduced set man to Dad. They discussed the relative merits of civil and mechanical engineering.
Secretary and I shared a table with the ginger one and the animal lover (they are married), box office and maid (they are not - thank the gods!). Good food. Didn't eat too much - I ordered two vegetable side dishes which I could share with the animal lover, who is a vegetarian plus. Normally I end up with way too much. Well that's what curries always end up like if you're not careful. And I'm not normally careful. Box office stayed overnight at ours. Goodie-goodie yum-yum was supposed to go to the curry and also stay at ours but didn't.
Saturday was a rush job with M&D round for coffee. I just about had time to shower before they appeared and ate breakfast once they had arrived. Dad was most impressed with the technical skills used to put the production together. Surprise, surprise! Secretary then spent ages trying to print out photographs from her laptop but wouldn't let me help.
The afternoon show wasn't packed, but there were plenty of people there who wouldn't have been able to make any other show. Previous producer and producer put in a great scene together at the job centre. The fight went well. And there were ploughman's lunches nleft over to have for supper between the shows. Secretary and I went to Budgens and Threshers in Langley to buy some stuff. She dropped me back at the hall to have my make-up retouched while she went home to pick up a red bow-tie and dress shirt for producer geezer to wear on front of house. And to have another go at the pictures.
Saturday night. I step out onto the stage. And there they are. In the front. At the middle table. Scud and previous chairperson. And they laughed all the way through. It was great. And I suddenly realised just how much I have enjoyed performing opposite the ginger one. Lots of laughs all round in fact. Right from the first scene. In the job centre (although my hood had dropped way too far down at that point). Even the Rite of Ashkente. That scene got better show by show. Another great fight. Both shows I gave the table a massive whack to knock the Duke's hourglass off. And at the end the ginger one and I hugged instead of just shaking hands.
Having been told by others (including Albert, doorknocker and director him) to pull my mask up for the walkdown I was instructed by director her to do so for the afternoon show. Albert said you take the bow as yourself not as your character. When I walked down for the final time I was apparently bright pink underneath the mask. It had been phenominally hot inside the mask every show. That one was just insane though. I came off after scenes one to six and was sweating then. After the fight and the final scene I could barely breathe. But the applause was wonderful. I think people applauded more when they saw who the man behind the mask was. We stepped forward together and bowed. Then we stepped back and bowed again. The curtains closed. They opened once more. We bowed. And then they closed for the final time. Hello Spider. What came after comes later.
Thought for the day:
'Now with the help of your good hands.
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please.
....
Let your indulgence set me free.'
Epilogue spoken by Prospero. The Tempest. Shakespeare.
Well of course it's not straightforward otherwise I would have stopped there. It misses out the fact that secretary and I took Mother and Dad to the pub where acolyte has just started working for their lunch. Well to the Italian Restaurant section around the back. Very nice too. It misses out my long conversation about money and presents with director her outside the pub. It ignores the fact that once we had dropped them off at their hotel we raced into Slough for me to pick up a cake and present(s) for high priest's birthday. It doesn't mention that after that secretary and I then sped over to Taplow for her to buy a variety of things at a couple of shops.. while I was told to wait in the car. And it doesn't explain why we need to hold production meetings to discuss the set up for my special performance with my toes and bottom. Sorry, you had to be there. Well rather, you had to be part of the text communication. Only set man, box office, previous producer and secretary will have the faintest idea what that's all about. Hey-ho.
Friday's show was great fun. Maybe the thought of a curry afterwards stirred everyone into action. Maybe I was concious of Mother & Dad being in the audience. Maybe it was the fact that we had to squeeze in some tables at the back to accommodate the extra sales. But the finest performance of the night came from producer and Cutwell in the male dressing room as they were getting changed after the show, with a stream of witty conversation masking the full blown lovers' tiff that was raging behind them. Introduced set man to Dad. They discussed the relative merits of civil and mechanical engineering.
Secretary and I shared a table with the ginger one and the animal lover (they are married), box office and maid (they are not - thank the gods!). Good food. Didn't eat too much - I ordered two vegetable side dishes which I could share with the animal lover, who is a vegetarian plus. Normally I end up with way too much. Well that's what curries always end up like if you're not careful. And I'm not normally careful. Box office stayed overnight at ours. Goodie-goodie yum-yum was supposed to go to the curry and also stay at ours but didn't.
Saturday was a rush job with M&D round for coffee. I just about had time to shower before they appeared and ate breakfast once they had arrived. Dad was most impressed with the technical skills used to put the production together. Surprise, surprise! Secretary then spent ages trying to print out photographs from her laptop but wouldn't let me help.
The afternoon show wasn't packed, but there were plenty of people there who wouldn't have been able to make any other show. Previous producer and producer put in a great scene together at the job centre. The fight went well. And there were ploughman's lunches nleft over to have for supper between the shows. Secretary and I went to Budgens and Threshers in Langley to buy some stuff. She dropped me back at the hall to have my make-up retouched while she went home to pick up a red bow-tie and dress shirt for producer geezer to wear on front of house. And to have another go at the pictures.
Saturday night. I step out onto the stage. And there they are. In the front. At the middle table. Scud and previous chairperson. And they laughed all the way through. It was great. And I suddenly realised just how much I have enjoyed performing opposite the ginger one. Lots of laughs all round in fact. Right from the first scene. In the job centre (although my hood had dropped way too far down at that point). Even the Rite of Ashkente. That scene got better show by show. Another great fight. Both shows I gave the table a massive whack to knock the Duke's hourglass off. And at the end the ginger one and I hugged instead of just shaking hands.
Having been told by others (including Albert, doorknocker and director him) to pull my mask up for the walkdown I was instructed by director her to do so for the afternoon show. Albert said you take the bow as yourself not as your character. When I walked down for the final time I was apparently bright pink underneath the mask. It had been phenominally hot inside the mask every show. That one was just insane though. I came off after scenes one to six and was sweating then. After the fight and the final scene I could barely breathe. But the applause was wonderful. I think people applauded more when they saw who the man behind the mask was. We stepped forward together and bowed. Then we stepped back and bowed again. The curtains closed. They opened once more. We bowed. And then they closed for the final time. Hello Spider. What came after comes later.
Thought for the day:
'Now with the help of your good hands.
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please.
....
Let your indulgence set me free.'
Epilogue spoken by Prospero. The Tempest. Shakespeare.
Friday, March 23
Not sharp enough
I forgot to take on the sword tonight. Bugger. Thank God the ginger one is pretty quick on the draw. Boy, does he need to be. Ysabell dropped her first line tonight. Was she annoyed? Too right. High priest got very upset with himself for missing a bit. I got most of the ones I had mucked up last night right. Apart from one fairly important one. And I got away with a momentary lapse in the crucial fight scene by breathing very heavily while I found time to think. The fight went well and the pyro scene was the best we have done it yet. Classic moment of the night though, apart from the sword, fell to box office. His line as the abbot 'I can remember all my lives' became 'I can remember all my lines'. Quality. One change of letter can a magic moment make.
Thought for the day: 'The pen is mightier than the sword.' That's why I forgot it. I'm a writer. I had a biro in my pocket.
Thought for the day: 'The pen is mightier than the sword.' That's why I forgot it. I'm a writer. I had a biro in my pocket.
Thursday, March 22
Trying to focus
Last night's performance was a bit of a catologue of errors. I'm not sure which was the funniest or most alarming. I got lost in the first scene (how bad is that?) and footnote (who has the unenviable job of prompting) had to feed the next line to the ginger one and so it looked like he was the knob. Cutwell, who had spent the day driving to Cwmbran and Wolverhampton (I think) had to be rescued by the ginger one when he dropped some lines. High priest managed to punctuate the beginning of one of footnote's pieces with 'hear me ye gods...'. The ginger one managed to walk on and cross the stage as footnote was starting another one of her pieces. I managed to hit the table to knock off the Duke of Sto Helit's hourglass as required... but so hard that Albert had to grab the table to stop it falling off the stage. Keli was late on for scene four to see her father get killed. Albert referred to me as 'DEATH, the bloke'. Town crier managed to kick the pyro as he went off so that it landed next to my feet. Oh and to top it all I forgot my best line...
I feel I have some kind of excuse as I spent three-quarters of an hour in the bar discussing whether the licensing issues with the premises supervisor, and later with him and previous producer. We were also discussing the absence of alcohol, in two respects, and the access and otherwise, to the bar for members of CAST. Not entirely the best way to focus for the start of the show. Shame really as I had enjoyed an excellent chilled out lunch with Albert.
I have also had some problems with the interior structure of the mask. The area around my chin collapsed on Tuesday night, and we fixed it, repositioned the mic and taped it in before the start yesterday. I didn't work. By the time I had walked on I was practically chewing it. It all ads to the amusement.
Thought for the day: 'Sylvia'. Now work that one out...
I feel I have some kind of excuse as I spent three-quarters of an hour in the bar discussing whether the licensing issues with the premises supervisor, and later with him and previous producer. We were also discussing the absence of alcohol, in two respects, and the access and otherwise, to the bar for members of CAST. Not entirely the best way to focus for the start of the show. Shame really as I had enjoyed an excellent chilled out lunch with Albert.
I have also had some problems with the interior structure of the mask. The area around my chin collapsed on Tuesday night, and we fixed it, repositioned the mic and taped it in before the start yesterday. I didn't work. By the time I had walked on I was practically chewing it. It all ads to the amusement.
Thought for the day: 'Sylvia'. Now work that one out...
Wednesday, March 21
God bless'em
I just love the OAPs. Every show they turn up, have a good time, enjoy the entertainment, have a cup of tea and biscuits, buy some raffle tickets and then clap everyone enthusiatically at the end. They love everything. At panto they love the smut. Tonight they loved the naughty words. They got most of the gags. They sympathised with Mort, empathised with Ysabell and recognised part of themselves in Albert. It's a great way to start the run.
All sorts of complications have arisen off stage, which I won't go into, but today I was running around all afternoon. Programmes. Pictures for front of house. Warning signs about the pyrotechnics. Posters showing who our fire officers are. I detailed most of it yesterday. To be honest, it's hard to tell what day it is. There were a lot of very obviously tired people around this evening.
I personally had an interesting time. I skipped a bit of dialogue in a scene with the ginger one. I got to wave my teddy, goldfish and tankard around. I had the best version of my scene with previous producer so far. I had the pyro go off up my trousers. I thoroughly enjoyed the big fight scene. But... the support inside the mask keeping my chin away from it caved in so I found myself chewing rather than speaking my way through the lines in the last two scenes.
Anyway, best thing is, here I am ready to go to bed at the earliest time for five nights. Marvellous. And I'm doing lunch with Albert tomorrow. What fun.
Thought for the day: 'There's a child in your eyes, And the child never dies, So keep the dream alive, With the aid of second sight.' Achilles Heel. Joseph Washbourn. Onka's Big Moka. Toploader.
All sorts of complications have arisen off stage, which I won't go into, but today I was running around all afternoon. Programmes. Pictures for front of house. Warning signs about the pyrotechnics. Posters showing who our fire officers are. I detailed most of it yesterday. To be honest, it's hard to tell what day it is. There were a lot of very obviously tired people around this evening.
I personally had an interesting time. I skipped a bit of dialogue in a scene with the ginger one. I got to wave my teddy, goldfish and tankard around. I had the best version of my scene with previous producer so far. I had the pyro go off up my trousers. I thoroughly enjoyed the big fight scene. But... the support inside the mask keeping my chin away from it caved in so I found myself chewing rather than speaking my way through the lines in the last two scenes.
Anyway, best thing is, here I am ready to go to bed at the earliest time for five nights. Marvellous. And I'm doing lunch with Albert tomorrow. What fun.
Thought for the day: 'There's a child in your eyes, And the child never dies, So keep the dream alive, With the aid of second sight.' Achilles Heel. Joseph Washbourn. Onka's Big Moka. Toploader.
Tuesday, March 20
Death unmasked
The tech rehearsal on Sunday and other associated items of work which followed it saw the late night shift finish at 2.10am. Last night I have already mentioned. Yesterday we were all up and tackling various chores by lunchtime. Here I am today having just finished my lunch (which is also my breakfast), ready to go again.
The consequences of such strange timekeeping are tiredness, bad spelling (just corrected the spelling of tiredness) and short term memory loss. They combined, along with a natural fear of being blown to pieces, to provide one of the more amusing moments of last night. Yes. OK. It was me. What do you want - a medal?
Scene 21 is the only one in this show with a pyro. We have had to fireproof all the costumes worn in that scene. Last night we had a visit from a fire safety officer to make sure we had done it all properly. Serious stuff.
The thing is, the scene has to be set behind another dropcloth. This means there's not much room for the pyro. That is, it's right underneath Albert and me at the point where it goes off. We're, basically, a pair of scaredy-cats. So we were protesting about this and I lifted my mask so it was on top of my head as we discussed the matter with director her, director him and set man. Tough. That's basically what we were told. So we started the scene. I spun around in dramatic fashion. Began my first word 'Bugger...' and Albert was laughing his head off. 'Oi DEATH pull your mask down.' Yes. OK. Bloody pyrotechnics. I blame them.
When it came to it the pyro was absolutely tiny. It exploded and we vanished... or rather, we did'nt vanish. I asked secretary who had finished her stint as doorknocker about it and she said there was a little pop, a waft of smoke and two people walked off the stage. Not exactly the vanishing effect you might hope for. Anyway the two of us felt rather pathetic for complaining...
Today secretary has to sort out the ordering of the wine, which she was told was under control weeks ago. I have to get posters done warning the audience about the pyro (!) and the use of strobe in the show to put up in front of house. I have to copy the poster about fire officers and general supervisors etc from the last show to put up. I have to sort out the front of house photos. I have to get the newspaper finished. I have to pick up the programmes. And I MUST remember to take down the teddy bear.
Thought for the day: 'Bugger'.
The consequences of such strange timekeeping are tiredness, bad spelling (just corrected the spelling of tiredness) and short term memory loss. They combined, along with a natural fear of being blown to pieces, to provide one of the more amusing moments of last night. Yes. OK. It was me. What do you want - a medal?
Scene 21 is the only one in this show with a pyro. We have had to fireproof all the costumes worn in that scene. Last night we had a visit from a fire safety officer to make sure we had done it all properly. Serious stuff.
The thing is, the scene has to be set behind another dropcloth. This means there's not much room for the pyro. That is, it's right underneath Albert and me at the point where it goes off. We're, basically, a pair of scaredy-cats. So we were protesting about this and I lifted my mask so it was on top of my head as we discussed the matter with director her, director him and set man. Tough. That's basically what we were told. So we started the scene. I spun around in dramatic fashion. Began my first word 'Bugger...' and Albert was laughing his head off. 'Oi DEATH pull your mask down.' Yes. OK. Bloody pyrotechnics. I blame them.
When it came to it the pyro was absolutely tiny. It exploded and we vanished... or rather, we did'nt vanish. I asked secretary who had finished her stint as doorknocker about it and she said there was a little pop, a waft of smoke and two people walked off the stage. Not exactly the vanishing effect you might hope for. Anyway the two of us felt rather pathetic for complaining...
Today secretary has to sort out the ordering of the wine, which she was told was under control weeks ago. I have to get posters done warning the audience about the pyro (!) and the use of strobe in the show to put up in front of house. I have to copy the poster about fire officers and general supervisors etc from the last show to put up. I have to sort out the front of house photos. I have to get the newspaper finished. I have to pick up the programmes. And I MUST remember to take down the teddy bear.
Thought for the day: 'Bugger'.
Stupid O'Clock
It's a quarter past four and I have just got home. That's 4.15am. We finished the dress rehearsal, which was excellent apart from a few prop and costume items which need sorting out, at around midnight. Then producer, director him, director her, footnote, set man, previous producer and mad new mug, aka stand-in landlord, did four hours of work. We finished and hung the unseen university drop cloth, director her's magnificent Michaelangelo, and completed the side flats to go with it. Then we tidied up. Paint, tools, brushes, trays, bits of paper, battery packs, half drunk cups of coffee... We then took pictures. Of director her with the Michaelangelo. And of us all under the clock. Then footnote drove me home. She said she felt more like fucknote. I feel like DEATH.
Thought for the day: 'Success is one per cent inspiration and 99 per cent persperation.' When I started typing that I could remember who said it. Now I can't. I think I'm too tired. Night, night.
Thought for the day: 'Success is one per cent inspiration and 99 per cent persperation.' When I started typing that I could remember who said it. Now I can't. I think I'm too tired. Night, night.
Sunday, March 18
The importance of food
Today followed an interesting pattern. Paint some bricks. Have a cuppa. Paint some more bricks. Eat (Big cooked breakfast). Paint some more bricks. Have a cuppa. Paint some more bricks. Have a cuppa. Paint some more bricks. Have a pint. Paint some more bricks. Watch the rugby (first half). Paint a few quick bricks. Watch the rugby (second half). Cry. Paint some more bricks. Eat (Big curry). Paint some more bricks. Attend to the requirements of nature. Have a cuppa. Paint some mortar. Eat (Big chocolate chip muffin). Paint some more mortar. Come home.
That is of course an over simplification. I had more cups of tea and coffee than that. I also haven't mentioned that my brick painting sponge fell apart twice, so dangerous repaired it twice and then the third time I happened tto mention that it would be good if it had a handle on it... and I was given a new sponge cut to size fixed into a specially made wooden box with a handle on it.
Keli did most of the mortar. She also did most of the shouting during the rugby. She supports Wasps so she's obviously a very special and lovely rugby fan.
Footnote and previous producer masterminded the breakfast, or rather brunch. The first time we have ever had sausage, eggs, bacon, beans, fried bread and toast at the hall. It was a great idea as it meant we had a good long afternoon to get things done. Nice.
The curry we had in the evening was excellent too. Director her didn't partake though after last night's experience. She still had a lot of crawling on her hands and knees to do. But the food over these long and tiring sessions is important. There is a delicate balance of stodge and grease to be consumed. I was concerned that set man might have upset his metabolism by having two glasse of orange juice with breakfast. He seemed to be OK though.
Ysabell and Albert created DEATH's world in shades of black. Set man and dangerous sorted out secretary's position on the door so her head was comfortable. Footnote showed off her calligraphy skills for the books in DEATH's library.
Director her tackled the Michaelangelo again. She was there in the evening. Director him was down supervising during the day. Box office painted the fireplace, went off to a party (one of our members 18th birthaday) and then came back at midnight to finish it. High priest, dangerous and set man hung one drop. And then at the end they painted the extension to the stage black. All in all a good day's work.
Thought for the day: 'An army marches on its stomach' I'm not sure whether that was Napoleon or Wellington or someone from a completely different time and place, but it's a good quote so I'll stick with it. I'll check for tomorrow.
That is of course an over simplification. I had more cups of tea and coffee than that. I also haven't mentioned that my brick painting sponge fell apart twice, so dangerous repaired it twice and then the third time I happened tto mention that it would be good if it had a handle on it... and I was given a new sponge cut to size fixed into a specially made wooden box with a handle on it.
Keli did most of the mortar. She also did most of the shouting during the rugby. She supports Wasps so she's obviously a very special and lovely rugby fan.
Footnote and previous producer masterminded the breakfast, or rather brunch. The first time we have ever had sausage, eggs, bacon, beans, fried bread and toast at the hall. It was a great idea as it meant we had a good long afternoon to get things done. Nice.
The curry we had in the evening was excellent too. Director her didn't partake though after last night's experience. She still had a lot of crawling on her hands and knees to do. But the food over these long and tiring sessions is important. There is a delicate balance of stodge and grease to be consumed. I was concerned that set man might have upset his metabolism by having two glasse of orange juice with breakfast. He seemed to be OK though.
Ysabell and Albert created DEATH's world in shades of black. Set man and dangerous sorted out secretary's position on the door so her head was comfortable. Footnote showed off her calligraphy skills for the books in DEATH's library.
Director her tackled the Michaelangelo again. She was there in the evening. Director him was down supervising during the day. Box office painted the fireplace, went off to a party (one of our members 18th birthaday) and then came back at midnight to finish it. High priest, dangerous and set man hung one drop. And then at the end they painted the extension to the stage black. All in all a good day's work.
Thought for the day: 'An army marches on its stomach' I'm not sure whether that was Napoleon or Wellington or someone from a completely different time and place, but it's a good quote so I'll stick with it. I'll check for tomorrow.
Saturday, March 17
Bricking it
It took footnote and producer about 3 hours tonight to 'tidy up' some of the brickwork on the inside of Cutwell's cottage. We have now finished a third of it. Two more walls, including a fireplace in one of them, to go. We reckon on that basis about another 18 hours should be enough to finish it...
Director her spent the evening on her knees working on the Michaelangelo backdrop otherwise known as the Unseen University. She didn't feel too well afterwards - doing that after a large Chinese meal didn't help.
Set man and dangerous completed building the corner of the set for DEATH's study & library and the evening ended with the two of them fireproofing the front of the stage. Funnily enough this prompted a mass exodus from the hall due to the dangerous radioactive cloud which descended as they did it. Not pleasant.
Director him and previous producer were also there working away and high priest, lord bless his soul, turned up after work... having finished at 10.15pm.
Downer of the night was secretary arriving at the hall after having been up to London to see The Sound Of Music, to tell us that her car had been broken into at Langley station. Apparently the show was great.
Tomorrow we are having a very big brunch. Footnote is turning the hall kitchen into a full blown restaurant...
Thought for the day: 'All in all it's just another brick in the hall.' Trad arr Cole.
Director her spent the evening on her knees working on the Michaelangelo backdrop otherwise known as the Unseen University. She didn't feel too well afterwards - doing that after a large Chinese meal didn't help.
Set man and dangerous completed building the corner of the set for DEATH's study & library and the evening ended with the two of them fireproofing the front of the stage. Funnily enough this prompted a mass exodus from the hall due to the dangerous radioactive cloud which descended as they did it. Not pleasant.
Director him and previous producer were also there working away and high priest, lord bless his soul, turned up after work... having finished at 10.15pm.
Downer of the night was secretary arriving at the hall after having been up to London to see The Sound Of Music, to tell us that her car had been broken into at Langley station. Apparently the show was great.
Tomorrow we are having a very big brunch. Footnote is turning the hall kitchen into a full blown restaurant...
Thought for the day: 'All in all it's just another brick in the hall.' Trad arr Cole.
Wednesday, March 14
Liking one another's company
It's a good job that the core group in Cast all get on. Set man pointed out tonight that we would see one another every day now until a week on Tuesday. Director her, producer, previous producer, box office and set man had the final production meeting tonight. We met at The Crown in Chertsey, venue for that first meeting which director her, director him and producer held all those months ago. A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since then.
I have just been delivered home by set man and previous producer. We have all been preparing ourselves mentally for the coming weekend. As always the list of jobs to be done, stuff to build and particularly things to paint is a long one. They will go up on the wall in the hall on Friday and be crossed off one by one. In many ways I enjoy this long weekend more tyhan any sane person should. Buit I guess it's the time when those key people bond and get on with it together to make the show for everyone else to take part in.
I could never sit on the sidelines and then turn up once it's all finished and go wow! haven't you done a lot of work. Even for Dick Whittington I was there for the weekend when I wasn't in the show. People just rely on one another - and as I say we must like one another's company.
Set build last Sunday was rather strange. First there was the Binky photo shoot. Then when director her and I got to tyhe hall there was the strange experience of being offered a bacon, egg or sausage sandwich rather than the usual bacon buttie we have. Our usual chef, bacon bitch was stranded in Portsmouth with dangerous because his car had gone kaput. I sent a crisis email to footnote on Saturday night explaining the trauma of the situation. And so we had a wonderful array of breakfast possibilities on offer to set us off for the day.
My actual contribution to the set was fairly minimal. I drew the outlines for a window and a door with director her. Well actually did the ones high priest had done free hand over again as his were a bit wonky. Then I started painting with box office... and got summoned so we could choreograph the fight scene between DEATH and Mort. Sword fight man was there to train us and work us hard so we mastered the moves. Knackering. It certainly wore me out. We had lunch and then did it all over again.
One amusing other incident saw director him and town crier drive off to do door-to-door delivery of our postcards. They headed off, did their own separate parts of the estate. Then director him returned to his car. And waited for town crier. And waited. And went to have a look for him. And waited some more. Town crier of course doesn't have a mobile phone. So director him waited some more. Then he called box office at the hall. Have you seen town crier? Oh yes. He's been back ages. What?! Yes, he walked back. Well I said amusing, director him was not that amused. But it did give us something to take the mick out of town crier over during lunch...
Thought for the day: 'We go together like rama-lama-lama-de-dinga-de-dingy-dong' Bizarre song from Grease. Albert will no doubt tell me that the lyrics are wrong, which they probably are. But he told me I had the lyrics to Wild West Hero wrong today and I checked on the insert for the CD and I had got it right, so there!
I have just been delivered home by set man and previous producer. We have all been preparing ourselves mentally for the coming weekend. As always the list of jobs to be done, stuff to build and particularly things to paint is a long one. They will go up on the wall in the hall on Friday and be crossed off one by one. In many ways I enjoy this long weekend more tyhan any sane person should. Buit I guess it's the time when those key people bond and get on with it together to make the show for everyone else to take part in.
I could never sit on the sidelines and then turn up once it's all finished and go wow! haven't you done a lot of work. Even for Dick Whittington I was there for the weekend when I wasn't in the show. People just rely on one another - and as I say we must like one another's company.
Set build last Sunday was rather strange. First there was the Binky photo shoot. Then when director her and I got to tyhe hall there was the strange experience of being offered a bacon, egg or sausage sandwich rather than the usual bacon buttie we have. Our usual chef, bacon bitch was stranded in Portsmouth with dangerous because his car had gone kaput. I sent a crisis email to footnote on Saturday night explaining the trauma of the situation. And so we had a wonderful array of breakfast possibilities on offer to set us off for the day.
My actual contribution to the set was fairly minimal. I drew the outlines for a window and a door with director her. Well actually did the ones high priest had done free hand over again as his were a bit wonky. Then I started painting with box office... and got summoned so we could choreograph the fight scene between DEATH and Mort. Sword fight man was there to train us and work us hard so we mastered the moves. Knackering. It certainly wore me out. We had lunch and then did it all over again.
One amusing other incident saw director him and town crier drive off to do door-to-door delivery of our postcards. They headed off, did their own separate parts of the estate. Then director him returned to his car. And waited for town crier. And waited. And went to have a look for him. And waited some more. Town crier of course doesn't have a mobile phone. So director him waited some more. Then he called box office at the hall. Have you seen town crier? Oh yes. He's been back ages. What?! Yes, he walked back. Well I said amusing, director him was not that amused. But it did give us something to take the mick out of town crier over during lunch...
Thought for the day: 'We go together like rama-lama-lama-de-dinga-de-dingy-dong' Bizarre song from Grease. Albert will no doubt tell me that the lyrics are wrong, which they probably are. But he told me I had the lyrics to Wild West Hero wrong today and I checked on the insert for the CD and I had got it right, so there!
Tuesday, March 13
Madness Part Two
Horses are animals with which I have very little experience. I have only ever ridden one seriously. And really it took me for a ride, lovely animal that it was. I didn't have to do anything. Australia 1990. I was staying in Queensland on the Sunshine Coast. I won't go into it because it will only make you jealous and make me depressed that I haven't been back since. Anyway, the guy I was staying with, his brother, their mum and I travelled into the backwoods away from the coast to Ipswich - a town that makes Colnbrook look like LA and Brands Hill like Hollywood.
It was fantastic though. Christmas Eve! Boiling hot and the reason for our trek was to visit the guys grandfather who owned a farm out there. I was given a pair of his old jeans to wear. Well shorts were not advised for a beginner. I got onto the beautiful grey horse. I posed for a picture looking very unsure of myself. Then off went the horse for a nice stroll, then a serious walk around the valley.
We headed back through the rainforest on the ridge between Ipswich and Brisbane and when we got to their mum's house looking out above the city it started. A lightning storm the like of which I have never seen before and may never see again. Warm rain. Flashes of forked lightning hitting every tall building to be seen. It went on for hours.
Those two things helped make Christmas Eve 1990 one of the best days of my life before meeting secretary. The Christmas Day that followed was pretty good too. Full cooked breakfast. Tennis. Full Christmas dinner. All in 40 degree heat. Bonkers but brilliant.
But let me get back to horses. Or rather Binky, aka Alfie Moon. What a lovely chap. Only four. A bit twitchy at first but pretty good when he had got used to us.
The great grey beast I am talking about is owned by someone who stables him at the same place as a man who travels on the train to London as previous producer. Remarkable the things you can lay on if you speak to the right people. We needed some photos taken for the press and for our programme somewhere, somehow and the concept of Warwick and/or any other castle had gone by the wayside. So there we were. Sunday morning. A farm in Middle Green backing onto Langley Park. Director her, producer, the ginger one, Albert and Ysabell.
Now this sort of special photo shoot has evolved through the years. The most famous was the first, arranged by producer, which saw us go to London to take pics for Moby Dick - The Musical. Dressed as schoolgirls and teachers and school staff. Including two blokes dressed as schoolgirls. I was assistant director for the show so I got to be the deputy head. As it was my idea too... Previous director was the headteacher as he produced and directed the show. We went to the Natural History Museum to have our pictures taken by set man with the gigantic Blue Whale. All before the museum had opened to the public. We did Trafalgar Square, Herman Melville's house, the Cutty Sark and the Greenwich Meridian among the many stops on our tour.
Since then other trips have included a trip to the Portsmouth Docks for Treasure Island, to Taplow railway station for Stranded and all over London again for Dick Whittington. But you can read all about that one at allaboutdick.blogspot.com.
Back to our horse. When it came to it, director her was the only one of us to get on Binky. She had already suggested that, and when we were told that Binky was only four and had never had a large flappy piece of material - or in our case DEATH's cloak - draped across it's back we knew she was right. Director her has experience with horses and it showed. So up she got onto this 17 hand beast to then put the cloak on once she was up there. Along with DEATH's mask. With producer's sunglasses taped into them. Prescription sunglasses. It was a sunny day, but as producer is blind as a bat the prescription meant she could barely see a thing.
It was very convincing though. Despite the foot gap in height between stand-in horse-riding DEATH and real but firmly rooted to the ground DEATH. Then Albert and the ginger one and producer had their pictures taken next to and leading Binky. And Ysabell had her picture taken dressed in pink looking demure leaning on a fence. Not as her character of course.
After all that it was off for the second set build... I'll tell you all about eggs, sausages and bacon tomorrow. Oh and swordfights as well.
Thought for the day:
'Ride the range all the day
Till the first fading light
Be with my western girl
Round the fire oh so bright
I'd be the indians friend
Let them love to be free
Riding into the sunset
I wish I could be'
Jeff Lynne. Wild West Hero. ELO. Out Of The Blue. And yes, they were The Beatles of the 1970s. And if you disagree i'll sort you out.
It was fantastic though. Christmas Eve! Boiling hot and the reason for our trek was to visit the guys grandfather who owned a farm out there. I was given a pair of his old jeans to wear. Well shorts were not advised for a beginner. I got onto the beautiful grey horse. I posed for a picture looking very unsure of myself. Then off went the horse for a nice stroll, then a serious walk around the valley.
We headed back through the rainforest on the ridge between Ipswich and Brisbane and when we got to their mum's house looking out above the city it started. A lightning storm the like of which I have never seen before and may never see again. Warm rain. Flashes of forked lightning hitting every tall building to be seen. It went on for hours.
Those two things helped make Christmas Eve 1990 one of the best days of my life before meeting secretary. The Christmas Day that followed was pretty good too. Full cooked breakfast. Tennis. Full Christmas dinner. All in 40 degree heat. Bonkers but brilliant.
But let me get back to horses. Or rather Binky, aka Alfie Moon. What a lovely chap. Only four. A bit twitchy at first but pretty good when he had got used to us.
The great grey beast I am talking about is owned by someone who stables him at the same place as a man who travels on the train to London as previous producer. Remarkable the things you can lay on if you speak to the right people. We needed some photos taken for the press and for our programme somewhere, somehow and the concept of Warwick and/or any other castle had gone by the wayside. So there we were. Sunday morning. A farm in Middle Green backing onto Langley Park. Director her, producer, the ginger one, Albert and Ysabell.
Now this sort of special photo shoot has evolved through the years. The most famous was the first, arranged by producer, which saw us go to London to take pics for Moby Dick - The Musical. Dressed as schoolgirls and teachers and school staff. Including two blokes dressed as schoolgirls. I was assistant director for the show so I got to be the deputy head. As it was my idea too... Previous director was the headteacher as he produced and directed the show. We went to the Natural History Museum to have our pictures taken by set man with the gigantic Blue Whale. All before the museum had opened to the public. We did Trafalgar Square, Herman Melville's house, the Cutty Sark and the Greenwich Meridian among the many stops on our tour.
Since then other trips have included a trip to the Portsmouth Docks for Treasure Island, to Taplow railway station for Stranded and all over London again for Dick Whittington. But you can read all about that one at allaboutdick.blogspot.com.
Back to our horse. When it came to it, director her was the only one of us to get on Binky. She had already suggested that, and when we were told that Binky was only four and had never had a large flappy piece of material - or in our case DEATH's cloak - draped across it's back we knew she was right. Director her has experience with horses and it showed. So up she got onto this 17 hand beast to then put the cloak on once she was up there. Along with DEATH's mask. With producer's sunglasses taped into them. Prescription sunglasses. It was a sunny day, but as producer is blind as a bat the prescription meant she could barely see a thing.
It was very convincing though. Despite the foot gap in height between stand-in horse-riding DEATH and real but firmly rooted to the ground DEATH. Then Albert and the ginger one and producer had their pictures taken next to and leading Binky. And Ysabell had her picture taken dressed in pink looking demure leaning on a fence. Not as her character of course.
After all that it was off for the second set build... I'll tell you all about eggs, sausages and bacon tomorrow. Oh and swordfights as well.
Thought for the day:
'Ride the range all the day
Till the first fading light
Be with my western girl
Round the fire oh so bright
I'd be the indians friend
Let them love to be free
Riding into the sunset
I wish I could be'
Jeff Lynne. Wild West Hero. ELO. Out Of The Blue. And yes, they were The Beatles of the 1970s. And if you disagree i'll sort you out.
Monday, March 12
Madness Part One
No blog for Friday, Saturday or Sunday. Why? Well it's been a bit busy, that's why. I'm not going to talk about work, because that's almost as bad as talking about problems with printers. No, I shall tell you of the fun of Saturday and tomorrow I shall run through Sunday and let you know just how good our rehearsal was tonight.
I brought the second batch of postcards home with me from work on Friday night and the task for Saturday was for secretary, director her and producer to tour the bookshops of the area leaving them by the tills.
Of course we started in Langley... with a cooked breakfast. We managed to get the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker to put a poster up in their windows. Well the sandwich shop, the greengrocers and the hairdressers anyway. Plus a couple of others if we get lucky. And we paid (grrrr!) to put them in the Post Office and hardware store.
I think it might have helped that I was carrying a cuddly rabbit that secretary had bought in the Age Concern shop. I asked everyone behind the counters if they would like to say hello to George. Maybe they said yes out of sympathy. Maybe they said yes to get rid of me. Or maybe they said yes because they thought it was really amusing and if the play was as funny as me then it would definitely be worth seeing...
Slough was on the map for two reasons. I needed a haircut. Barber in Queensmere. 15 minutes. £10. Secretary happy. Director her happy. Sorted. The other being to visit the town's two bookshops, which the pair of them did while I was having my locks shorn. We were going to meet footnote and woman in street, but woman in street couldn't make it, so Maidenhead, where they were going, has been put on hold for the time being.
Then we split up. Secretary went off to Uxbridge while director her and producer headed for Staines on the way we picked up some sponge, black and grey wallpaper, burgundy wrapping paper, silicon sealant and medical tape. And probably some other stuff I have forgotten. Why? Well firstly we planned to make up my deathly mask later that afternoon. Secondly we wanted something to cover DEATH's books and Albert's book of spells.
We visited Ottakers or Waterstones or whatever the main bookshop in the middle of Staines is and then went to Books etc at Two Rivers. The sales assistant at the back counter wasn't too sure about taking the postcards. But. She called her manager down. And. He turned out to be a Pratchett fan. So. He was quite happy to take a pile of them.
Then director her and I had one of those moments which really make such an exercise worthwhile. Like they say, if you don't ask, you don't get... thus I asked whether he and his team would put a card in each of the Pratchett books on their shelves. He didn't like that idea, but when it was suggested that we could do it... he said the immortal word 'Yes' (or something rather longer but basically meaning the same thing for practical purposes).
For the next 15 minutes director her and producer could be seen working their way through two-and-a-half shelves worth of Pratchett books. It's about as good a direct marketing campaign as we are likely to get. The manager did OK out of it - we ended up buying two books ourselves.
We ended up back at home (arriving at exactly the same second as secretary) to work on DEATH's mask, only to find, after director her had gone to work fixing in the blue lights and the sunglass lenses, that the switch to turn the lights on was broken. Yet another job for set man.
So that was it for the day. Well apart from secretary testing me on my lines for about an hour and a half. It's the first proper session we have been able to do. We should have done it ages ago. Hey ho. Consequently though, I got no work done on the programme. That is my biggest current concern.
Thought for the day: 'Two budgies on a perch. One says to the other: "Can you smell fish?"' Source unknown. Well it's obvious really...
I brought the second batch of postcards home with me from work on Friday night and the task for Saturday was for secretary, director her and producer to tour the bookshops of the area leaving them by the tills.
Of course we started in Langley... with a cooked breakfast. We managed to get the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker to put a poster up in their windows. Well the sandwich shop, the greengrocers and the hairdressers anyway. Plus a couple of others if we get lucky. And we paid (grrrr!) to put them in the Post Office and hardware store.
I think it might have helped that I was carrying a cuddly rabbit that secretary had bought in the Age Concern shop. I asked everyone behind the counters if they would like to say hello to George. Maybe they said yes out of sympathy. Maybe they said yes to get rid of me. Or maybe they said yes because they thought it was really amusing and if the play was as funny as me then it would definitely be worth seeing...
Slough was on the map for two reasons. I needed a haircut. Barber in Queensmere. 15 minutes. £10. Secretary happy. Director her happy. Sorted. The other being to visit the town's two bookshops, which the pair of them did while I was having my locks shorn. We were going to meet footnote and woman in street, but woman in street couldn't make it, so Maidenhead, where they were going, has been put on hold for the time being.
Then we split up. Secretary went off to Uxbridge while director her and producer headed for Staines on the way we picked up some sponge, black and grey wallpaper, burgundy wrapping paper, silicon sealant and medical tape. And probably some other stuff I have forgotten. Why? Well firstly we planned to make up my deathly mask later that afternoon. Secondly we wanted something to cover DEATH's books and Albert's book of spells.
We visited Ottakers or Waterstones or whatever the main bookshop in the middle of Staines is and then went to Books etc at Two Rivers. The sales assistant at the back counter wasn't too sure about taking the postcards. But. She called her manager down. And. He turned out to be a Pratchett fan. So. He was quite happy to take a pile of them.
Then director her and I had one of those moments which really make such an exercise worthwhile. Like they say, if you don't ask, you don't get... thus I asked whether he and his team would put a card in each of the Pratchett books on their shelves. He didn't like that idea, but when it was suggested that we could do it... he said the immortal word 'Yes' (or something rather longer but basically meaning the same thing for practical purposes).
For the next 15 minutes director her and producer could be seen working their way through two-and-a-half shelves worth of Pratchett books. It's about as good a direct marketing campaign as we are likely to get. The manager did OK out of it - we ended up buying two books ourselves.
We ended up back at home (arriving at exactly the same second as secretary) to work on DEATH's mask, only to find, after director her had gone to work fixing in the blue lights and the sunglass lenses, that the switch to turn the lights on was broken. Yet another job for set man.
So that was it for the day. Well apart from secretary testing me on my lines for about an hour and a half. It's the first proper session we have been able to do. We should have done it ages ago. Hey ho. Consequently though, I got no work done on the programme. That is my biggest current concern.
Thought for the day: 'Two budgies on a perch. One says to the other: "Can you smell fish?"' Source unknown. Well it's obvious really...
Thursday, March 8
Flash! Bang! Wallop!
We do all sorts of things on our stage, but in this show we need some pyros and using them causes all sorts of complications. When we did Wyrd Sisters all those years ago director her had several. This time it is all a little more restrained - just one for DEATH & Albert's disappearance in scene 21.
Of course such things require a certain amount of care. Setting fire to the front row wouldn't be a good idea really. After all they will have had a big meal during the interval. We don't want them getting indegestion while we run around putting them out with fire extinguishers.
Director her has been in touch with the people at Slough council who are responsible for issuing licences and we have to adhere to a number of key safety requirements to be given the go ahead. Most importantly, all the costumes of those people in the immediate vicinity of the big bang need to have their costumes fireproofed. As that includes me I think it is probably quite a good idea.
Fortunately director her, director him and producer are all trained at squirting stuff for work just in case something goes wrong. All the flats we have up were there at panto so they've been fireproofed already and the stage curtains are also protected so there shouldn't be any towering inferno.
It all adds to the complications though - but if you are doing a show with wizards or witches in it then a few magical pieces of stage action are likely to be required.
I shall now disappear....
Thought for the day:
'Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up - and that’s an invitation
Roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up - to make a reservation
Roll up for the mystery tour
The magical mystery tour is waiting to take you away
Waiting to take you away'
Them scouse blokes
Of course such things require a certain amount of care. Setting fire to the front row wouldn't be a good idea really. After all they will have had a big meal during the interval. We don't want them getting indegestion while we run around putting them out with fire extinguishers.
Director her has been in touch with the people at Slough council who are responsible for issuing licences and we have to adhere to a number of key safety requirements to be given the go ahead. Most importantly, all the costumes of those people in the immediate vicinity of the big bang need to have their costumes fireproofed. As that includes me I think it is probably quite a good idea.
Fortunately director her, director him and producer are all trained at squirting stuff for work just in case something goes wrong. All the flats we have up were there at panto so they've been fireproofed already and the stage curtains are also protected so there shouldn't be any towering inferno.
It all adds to the complications though - but if you are doing a show with wizards or witches in it then a few magical pieces of stage action are likely to be required.
I shall now disappear....
Thought for the day:
'Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up - and that’s an invitation
Roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up - to make a reservation
Roll up for the mystery tour
The magical mystery tour is waiting to take you away
Waiting to take you away'
Them scouse blokes
Wednesday, March 7
Do you trust the media?
No, I'm not referring to my own publications. Nor am I referring to town crier's newspaper or any of the other weeklies around here currently being pelted with press releases and interviews by producer geezer.
I am of course referring to our potential honorary president and one or two articles reporting problems with her health and the preview shows for Treats in the West End.
It seems so strange that what seemed to be a perfectly successful production when we witnessed the last night at the Theatre Royal in Windsor should hit so many problems. I can see it's been a tough run so far. Two weeks at Windsor, then with just a break on each Sunday a run at Great Malvern, then Bath and finally Richmond. They had no break then before hitting the stage at the Garrick Theatre in London.
If you do believe the papers - and what is true is that the opening night has already been put back a week and may be put back further - then our Billie is having a pretty tough time of it. Poor health, stress, self doubt. Whatever is true, it seems like she has reached a crucial rubicon in her acting career.
Performing in a three-hander is demanding and this is her first theatre role as a leading lady. The irony is that her solo scene involves her sobbing her heart out deciding whether to call her boyfriend. The scene certainly gripped and drained me when I saw it and I should imagine it's pretty demanding to generate that level of traumatic effect time and time again.
Method acting is a serious business and if she is tapping into some daemons from her past to produce all those tears of despair then I could imagine she has got some pretty heavy shit floating arround in her head at the moment. Anyway, we shall wait to see. Personally I hope that they delay the opening night another three weeks until March 28 - to give her time to recover properly from whatever health problems she has - then I'll be able to get to the opening night with press tickets and review the show!
Thought for the day:
'I know the way that I want it to be
But you know that I'm gonna take my chance now
I'm gonna make it happen some how
And you know I can take the pressure
A moments wait for a life time treasure
Every girl wants you to be her boy
But I'll wait right here 'till it's my turn
I'm not the kinda girl who gives up just like that oh no'
The Tide Is High. Billie Piper. Walk Of Life.
Should have been her number one hit, but she opted out and so Atomic Kitten hit the top with it instead.
I am of course referring to our potential honorary president and one or two articles reporting problems with her health and the preview shows for Treats in the West End.
It seems so strange that what seemed to be a perfectly successful production when we witnessed the last night at the Theatre Royal in Windsor should hit so many problems. I can see it's been a tough run so far. Two weeks at Windsor, then with just a break on each Sunday a run at Great Malvern, then Bath and finally Richmond. They had no break then before hitting the stage at the Garrick Theatre in London.
If you do believe the papers - and what is true is that the opening night has already been put back a week and may be put back further - then our Billie is having a pretty tough time of it. Poor health, stress, self doubt. Whatever is true, it seems like she has reached a crucial rubicon in her acting career.
Performing in a three-hander is demanding and this is her first theatre role as a leading lady. The irony is that her solo scene involves her sobbing her heart out deciding whether to call her boyfriend. The scene certainly gripped and drained me when I saw it and I should imagine it's pretty demanding to generate that level of traumatic effect time and time again.
Method acting is a serious business and if she is tapping into some daemons from her past to produce all those tears of despair then I could imagine she has got some pretty heavy shit floating arround in her head at the moment. Anyway, we shall wait to see. Personally I hope that they delay the opening night another three weeks until March 28 - to give her time to recover properly from whatever health problems she has - then I'll be able to get to the opening night with press tickets and review the show!
Thought for the day:
'I know the way that I want it to be
But you know that I'm gonna take my chance now
I'm gonna make it happen some how
And you know I can take the pressure
A moments wait for a life time treasure
Every girl wants you to be her boy
But I'll wait right here 'till it's my turn
I'm not the kinda girl who gives up just like that oh no'
The Tide Is High. Billie Piper. Walk Of Life.
Should have been her number one hit, but she opted out and so Atomic Kitten hit the top with it instead.
Tuesday, March 6
Dazed and Confused
At rehearsal last night producer was about as much use as, well, a not very useful thing. I returned from a long weekend in Berlin with scud, domefur and virtual dildo during the afternoon and was very, very tired. Why? Because I had a little problem sleeping on Saturday night due to the other resident of my room having a ridiculously loud snoring session. Suffice to say I could still hear him with my iPod on turned up to full volume. I ended up sleeping on the bathroom floor...
That aside, it was a magnificent trip. Here is not the place to detail the full story, but a good weekend of footie (Hertha Berlin 2 Bayern Munich 3), sightseeing (Reichstag, Checkpoint Charlie, Brandenburg Gate, Holocaust Memorial) and food (Oscar Wilde pub, a Spanish restaurant on Ku'damm and an Italian restaurant in Charlottenburg).
Now though, it is time to get on with the crucial few days before the show hits the stage. We have three more rehearsals before the dress. OAP show is two weeks tonight. While I was away the set man, dangerous and the rest of the crew got the two extensions to our stage put up. It's nevert big enough for us so we have been adding two 4ft extensions which run the width of the hall onto the front of the stage. Normally we don't get to do this until the final weekend before the show, so it's great to get the chance to rehearse on the full size stage for four extra run-throughs.
Last Friday I had the posters and 5,000 leaflets delivered to the office and on Sunday some of the team walked around in the rain (it was fine in Berlin!) putting them through letterboxes in the village. Town crier got absolutely drenched, so secretary told me... There are plenty more waiting to go out over the coming days. I have the rest of the programme to put together and we have to sort out the pics with 'Binky', DEATH's white horse. Previous producer has lined up one for Sunday - DEATH, Mort, Albert and Ysabell assuming the ginger one can get up for 10.30am. I tried on my costume last night for the first time and it will be finished for Sunday. It should make great pictures.
Thought for the day:
'I had a dream, oh now,
Crazy dream, oh-hoh,
Anything I wanted to know,
Any place I needed to go.'
The Song Remains The Same.
Plant/Page/Jones/Bonham.
Houses Of The Holy.
Led Zep
That aside, it was a magnificent trip. Here is not the place to detail the full story, but a good weekend of footie (Hertha Berlin 2 Bayern Munich 3), sightseeing (Reichstag, Checkpoint Charlie, Brandenburg Gate, Holocaust Memorial) and food (Oscar Wilde pub, a Spanish restaurant on Ku'damm and an Italian restaurant in Charlottenburg).
Now though, it is time to get on with the crucial few days before the show hits the stage. We have three more rehearsals before the dress. OAP show is two weeks tonight. While I was away the set man, dangerous and the rest of the crew got the two extensions to our stage put up. It's nevert big enough for us so we have been adding two 4ft extensions which run the width of the hall onto the front of the stage. Normally we don't get to do this until the final weekend before the show, so it's great to get the chance to rehearse on the full size stage for four extra run-throughs.
Last Friday I had the posters and 5,000 leaflets delivered to the office and on Sunday some of the team walked around in the rain (it was fine in Berlin!) putting them through letterboxes in the village. Town crier got absolutely drenched, so secretary told me... There are plenty more waiting to go out over the coming days. I have the rest of the programme to put together and we have to sort out the pics with 'Binky', DEATH's white horse. Previous producer has lined up one for Sunday - DEATH, Mort, Albert and Ysabell assuming the ginger one can get up for 10.30am. I tried on my costume last night for the first time and it will be finished for Sunday. It should make great pictures.
Thought for the day:
'I had a dream, oh now,
Crazy dream, oh-hoh,
Anything I wanted to know,
Any place I needed to go.'
The Song Remains The Same.
Plant/Page/Jones/Bonham.
Houses Of The Holy.
Led Zep
Friday, March 2
Time Marches On
St David's Day, Daffodils, A Pinch & A Punch. Yes it's the first of March and that means it's scary time. We are counting down the days until the first performance. There's no complication like having to add together bits of February and bits of March. The dress rehearsal is on March 19. That's 18 days time. That's not very long. Gulp! Would I like a glass of water?
Actually, it's past midnight. Which means it's March 2. Bugger. Why did you have to go and spoil it all.
Ysabell was complaining tonight that I had fallen behind a bit and needed to be writing something every day. And let's face it, who would argue with anyone who carries a large pink bunny around with them. Well her father maybe. Especially when he's carrying a goldfish and a teddy bear. I bet she hasn't noticed that in the script. Hah! Never mind the scythe my girl just make sure your bunny doesn't come anywhere near my goldfish or my teddy will be having words.
Thought for the day: 'What's the difference between a bison annd a buffalo? You can't wash your hands in a buffalo.' Bad joke c22.02.07. I won't even begin to tell you who told me that, but she was in disguise - not wearing pink at the time.
Actually, it's past midnight. Which means it's March 2. Bugger. Why did you have to go and spoil it all.
Ysabell was complaining tonight that I had fallen behind a bit and needed to be writing something every day. And let's face it, who would argue with anyone who carries a large pink bunny around with them. Well her father maybe. Especially when he's carrying a goldfish and a teddy bear. I bet she hasn't noticed that in the script. Hah! Never mind the scythe my girl just make sure your bunny doesn't come anywhere near my goldfish or my teddy will be having words.
Thought for the day: 'What's the difference between a bison annd a buffalo? You can't wash your hands in a buffalo.' Bad joke c22.02.07. I won't even begin to tell you who told me that, but she was in disguise - not wearing pink at the time.
Tuesday, February 27
Publish and be damned
Let's face it, most newspaper editors have problems with printers and deadlines, with equipment and distribution. However, it is very annoying to have the same problems at home.
To recap:
Point one: My Dad was given our old iMac, scanner and printer by my mother for Christmas. My mother paid secretary and me the money to buy a new flash three-in-one printer/scanner/copier as a replacement. You already know that.
Point two: When loading the software for the printer onto my iBook on the day of the Billie Piper letter I discovered that I couldn't use it with the Mac OSX operating system I had and had to load it onto secretary's pc laptop to print it instead. You know that too.
Point three: This Sunday we had the special screening of Songbook and the handing out of DVDs of the show. More of all that in a moment. I've mentioned that.
Point four: I did the DVD label and cover for the box a couple of weeks ago and gave them to previous director who was editing the recording to print but was due to do the booklet insert at work last week so that I could print it there. And that one as well.
Point five: I was so busy with work on Friday that I didn't leave until just before 11pm anyway, so I had no time to finish and print the booklets.
Point six: So I therefore had to do them at the weekend.
If you have made it this far you will probably have spotted the fundamental flaw in point six. I couldn't actually use the printer at home...
Well there's a solution to everything isn't there. and the solution to this problem was simple. Get the latest operating system for my iBook and upgrade it.
Simple stuff. But don't forget about the deadline, deadline, deadline, whispering away at the back of the mind.
Now there are Mac users and there are PC users and I won't go into a long detailed explaination of why Macs are far, far better than PCs here and now. Well other than to say of course they are and don't argue.
One problem with Macs however is that because they are the elite of the computer world, there are fewer stockists...
Well on Saturday morning I rang the Apple Centre in Brentford to check that they had the OSX Tiger operating system in stock - just in case - well actually because secretary told me to. After all she would be driving me there.
Of course they didn't. I asked where else might. PC World I was told. Oh the shame of it. A Mac man having to ring PC World. Did they have it in stock at either their Slough or Staines stores. No, of course not.
So off I went on a jolly little jaunt to the Apple Store in Regent Street. Oh the things I do for CAST on a Saturday afternoon. I spent the journey to and fro learning my lines with the recording of the show on my iPod so it wasn't time entirely wasted.
So I returned with Tiger plus the latest version of Adobe Photoshop Elements to sort out the pictures. And I began loading the software...
Now these are not small items. An entirely new operating system for your computer takes a little while to sort itself out. Suffice to say that I went to bed at gone midnight leaving the Photoshop stuff still loading.
Sunday was our first setbuild day, but I spent the afternoon sorting bits out for the Mort programme and then loading the printer software...
And finally, at about 5.45 I was ready to start printing the booklets.
Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines.
By now previous director was gathering together the last of the 18 DVDs he had managed to copy ready to race down to the village hall and set up the screen and equipment for the show.
Meanwhile back at the nightmare ranch...
I had put the booklets together with the publishing trade's number one tool, QuarkXPress. It's a wonderful thing. I have worked with it from my first days as a sub-editor at the Windsor & Slough Express through various generations of the software. There is nothing to match it as a layout and editing programme.
Every time I do a poster or programme or leaflet or postcard for Cast It gets done with QuarkXPress.
I have version 4.1 at home. It's not bad. To give you an idea, we had 3.2 on our Macs at work until a few months ago. I now have 4.1 on a Mac and version 6.0 on a PC.
Anyway, here's a crucial little techie bit - 4.1 will only operate on Mac operating system OS9, which I also have on my iBook. To use it on OSX or Tiger I would have to get an upgrade to version 6.0 or 7.0.
Am I boring you? Well it was all boring me on Sunday.
So here you are. The result of my endeavours. A series of equations which do not have an answer.
OSX Tiger on iBook can use printer. Tick in the box - bought it in London.
QuarkXPress can run in OS9 on iBook. Tick in the box - already there.
OOOOPS! S**t, b*****s, b*m.
Yes I couldn't print from QuarkXPress in OS9 as the printer would only work with software in OSX Tiger.
Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines.
Nothing to be done. No booklets.
And people would have loved them too.
So they will now have to go out separately at some point in the future once I have moved all the documents to work. I see another trip to the Apple Store to pick up a new version of QuarkXPress on the horizon.
Technology is a wonderful thing... except when you have to use it.
PS. If you hate all this sort of techno-gibberish you have my apologies. But don't worry. I do too.
Thought for the day: 'You are the apple of my eye...' You Are The Sunshine Of My Life. Stevie Wonder. And plenty of other people in other places. It's probably from Shakespeare. I'll check.
To recap:
Point one: My Dad was given our old iMac, scanner and printer by my mother for Christmas. My mother paid secretary and me the money to buy a new flash three-in-one printer/scanner/copier as a replacement. You already know that.
Point two: When loading the software for the printer onto my iBook on the day of the Billie Piper letter I discovered that I couldn't use it with the Mac OSX operating system I had and had to load it onto secretary's pc laptop to print it instead. You know that too.
Point three: This Sunday we had the special screening of Songbook and the handing out of DVDs of the show. More of all that in a moment. I've mentioned that.
Point four: I did the DVD label and cover for the box a couple of weeks ago and gave them to previous director who was editing the recording to print but was due to do the booklet insert at work last week so that I could print it there. And that one as well.
Point five: I was so busy with work on Friday that I didn't leave until just before 11pm anyway, so I had no time to finish and print the booklets.
Point six: So I therefore had to do them at the weekend.
If you have made it this far you will probably have spotted the fundamental flaw in point six. I couldn't actually use the printer at home...
Well there's a solution to everything isn't there. and the solution to this problem was simple. Get the latest operating system for my iBook and upgrade it.
Simple stuff. But don't forget about the deadline, deadline, deadline, whispering away at the back of the mind.
Now there are Mac users and there are PC users and I won't go into a long detailed explaination of why Macs are far, far better than PCs here and now. Well other than to say of course they are and don't argue.
One problem with Macs however is that because they are the elite of the computer world, there are fewer stockists...
Well on Saturday morning I rang the Apple Centre in Brentford to check that they had the OSX Tiger operating system in stock - just in case - well actually because secretary told me to. After all she would be driving me there.
Of course they didn't. I asked where else might. PC World I was told. Oh the shame of it. A Mac man having to ring PC World. Did they have it in stock at either their Slough or Staines stores. No, of course not.
So off I went on a jolly little jaunt to the Apple Store in Regent Street. Oh the things I do for CAST on a Saturday afternoon. I spent the journey to and fro learning my lines with the recording of the show on my iPod so it wasn't time entirely wasted.
So I returned with Tiger plus the latest version of Adobe Photoshop Elements to sort out the pictures. And I began loading the software...
Now these are not small items. An entirely new operating system for your computer takes a little while to sort itself out. Suffice to say that I went to bed at gone midnight leaving the Photoshop stuff still loading.
Sunday was our first setbuild day, but I spent the afternoon sorting bits out for the Mort programme and then loading the printer software...
And finally, at about 5.45 I was ready to start printing the booklets.
Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines.
By now previous director was gathering together the last of the 18 DVDs he had managed to copy ready to race down to the village hall and set up the screen and equipment for the show.
Meanwhile back at the nightmare ranch...
I had put the booklets together with the publishing trade's number one tool, QuarkXPress. It's a wonderful thing. I have worked with it from my first days as a sub-editor at the Windsor & Slough Express through various generations of the software. There is nothing to match it as a layout and editing programme.
Every time I do a poster or programme or leaflet or postcard for Cast It gets done with QuarkXPress.
I have version 4.1 at home. It's not bad. To give you an idea, we had 3.2 on our Macs at work until a few months ago. I now have 4.1 on a Mac and version 6.0 on a PC.
Anyway, here's a crucial little techie bit - 4.1 will only operate on Mac operating system OS9, which I also have on my iBook. To use it on OSX or Tiger I would have to get an upgrade to version 6.0 or 7.0.
Am I boring you? Well it was all boring me on Sunday.
So here you are. The result of my endeavours. A series of equations which do not have an answer.
OSX Tiger on iBook can use printer. Tick in the box - bought it in London.
QuarkXPress can run in OS9 on iBook. Tick in the box - already there.
OOOOPS! S**t, b*****s, b*m.
Yes I couldn't print from QuarkXPress in OS9 as the printer would only work with software in OSX Tiger.
Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines.
Nothing to be done. No booklets.
And people would have loved them too.
So they will now have to go out separately at some point in the future once I have moved all the documents to work. I see another trip to the Apple Store to pick up a new version of QuarkXPress on the horizon.
Technology is a wonderful thing... except when you have to use it.
PS. If you hate all this sort of techno-gibberish you have my apologies. But don't worry. I do too.
Thought for the day: 'You are the apple of my eye...' You Are The Sunshine Of My Life. Stevie Wonder. And plenty of other people in other places. It's probably from Shakespeare. I'll check.
Thursday, February 22
Right of reply
As with all reporters, I operate to the highest standards and should anyone feel they have been subject to a libel on the site then I will act accordingly.
I would therefore like to offer an alternative version of the entry pain and paintings...
My entry
DIRECTOR HER: Be very careful, remember he's badly hurt himself.
Corrected to:
DIRECTOR HER (mid scene): Watch his ribs!
and
I would therefore like to offer an alternative version of the entry pain and paintings...
My entry
DIRECTOR HER: Be very careful, remember he's badly hurt himself.
Corrected to:
DIRECTOR HER (mid scene): Watch his ribs!
and
My entry
DIRECTOR HER: I shouted out to be careful.....!!!
Corrected to:
well, nothing... cos that was never shouted!
also a clarification on one other part of the entry
My entry
"The ginger one broke the scythe as well. And he almost broke the sword. Well OK not really. But the switch to turn on the blue lights along the side of the blade won't move and needs replacing. Another task for set man to worry about."
Correction
The cheap Maplin switch failed to last more than two rehearsals. Better it broke early in rehearsal stage anyway isn't it than on the second night of performance?
and
The swords life was perfectly safe all evening!
allaboutdeath.blogspot.com is happy to publish these corrections and apologises for any inconvenience or distress caused.
Oh yeah and he WAS holding the scythe when the switch broke.
We'll se how rehearsal of that scene goes this evening... The show is actually quite violent. Ysabell gets to slap both of us and I get to stick the scythe into his nuts. The handle end that is. The other doesn't bear thinking about.
Thought for the day: 'All right now baby it's a-all right now.' Free. Free. Paul Rogers.
Chocolate
I forgot to say. Lent starts on Ash Wednesday. Albert told me so, quite properly pointing out that I am a heathen. He's a good catholic boy. Well good might be stretching things a little. Apparently his mum always used to tell him Lent ended on Easter Sunday. Then one day he counted out 40 days and worked out it actually ends on Palm Sunday. That's a whole week of eating chocolate he was deprived of for years and years. Outrageous.
Thought for the day:
'If love were liquid it would drown me
In a placeless place would find me
In a heart shape come around me and then
Melt me slowly down
If love were human it would know me
In a lost space come and show me
Hold me and control me and then
Melt me slowly down
Like chocolate'
Chocolate. Body Language. Kylie. I had never thought of it as a religious song before. Funny how you can miss these things.
Thought for the day:
'If love were liquid it would drown me
In a placeless place would find me
In a heart shape come around me and then
Melt me slowly down
If love were human it would know me
In a lost space come and show me
Hold me and control me and then
Melt me slowly down
Like chocolate'
Chocolate. Body Language. Kylie. I had never thought of it as a religious song before. Funny how you can miss these things.
The late, late, late show.
Previous producer has to get up at some ridiculous time in the morning to get to work. Like 5am or something equally stupid. I have caught the same train as her about twice. She was probably doing a half day and I was going in really, really early.
Now look at the reverse side of the coin. She stays up rather late. As ridiculously late as she has to get up. Have a look at her blog from the last show, allaboutdick.blogspot.com and see the time of the entries. That's the time she started writing them, not when she finished.
I can only conclude that she is a witch. She has to get up before she has gone to bed, so that is the only conclusion I can draw. In fact she's playing a wizard in the show.... so that's it.
Previous director is similar, but he works on the don't go to bed at all principle.
So when I tell you that we had a CAST committee meeting last night followed by a Mort production meeting, held at previous producer's house as committee meetings always are, and that we finished at gone midnight, at which point previous director then had to go through one or two important other issues, you will understand.
Having one after the other might seem ludicrous, but we always spend a large chunk of committee meetings discussing the current production, it isn't actually such a mad idea. We were still discussing committee stuff when director her arrived at 10ish, and still discussing them when director him arrived about 20 minutes later having been training staff all night. He now the record for the latest arrival at a CAST committee meeting.
Most things are progressing well. We're going to ask whether we can put the stage extension up early so that we can work on Keli's bedroom and DEATH's study before the final long weekend. There are one or two extra costume issues which previous producer needed opinions on. This weekend there's going to be a lot of ironing to do. We can't go to Warwick Castle for a photo shoot, so it is probably going to be a few of us in Windsor instead We're still hunting for a white/grey horse (depending on how you describe it). Set man is going to take photos of people this evening and on Monday for the programme. Producer geezer is going to sort out the biogs for the programme, once I can get the old ones to him. All good stuff.
This morning I had a great piece of news. Grundon waste management are going to sponsor our show again, paying for the publicity production costs to the tune of £680. I rang director him, director her and previous director to give them the good news. Director him is especially pleased. If you remember, he is also the CAST treasurer. Happy man.
Thought for the day: 'Show me the way to go home, I'm tired and I want to go to bed...' Just about everyone who's ever recorded a song anywhere ever. And a lot of drunk people outside pubs at closing time. Including me. Probably.
Now look at the reverse side of the coin. She stays up rather late. As ridiculously late as she has to get up. Have a look at her blog from the last show, allaboutdick.blogspot.com and see the time of the entries. That's the time she started writing them, not when she finished.
I can only conclude that she is a witch. She has to get up before she has gone to bed, so that is the only conclusion I can draw. In fact she's playing a wizard in the show.... so that's it.
Previous director is similar, but he works on the don't go to bed at all principle.
So when I tell you that we had a CAST committee meeting last night followed by a Mort production meeting, held at previous producer's house as committee meetings always are, and that we finished at gone midnight, at which point previous director then had to go through one or two important other issues, you will understand.
Having one after the other might seem ludicrous, but we always spend a large chunk of committee meetings discussing the current production, it isn't actually such a mad idea. We were still discussing committee stuff when director her arrived at 10ish, and still discussing them when director him arrived about 20 minutes later having been training staff all night. He now the record for the latest arrival at a CAST committee meeting.
Most things are progressing well. We're going to ask whether we can put the stage extension up early so that we can work on Keli's bedroom and DEATH's study before the final long weekend. There are one or two extra costume issues which previous producer needed opinions on. This weekend there's going to be a lot of ironing to do. We can't go to Warwick Castle for a photo shoot, so it is probably going to be a few of us in Windsor instead We're still hunting for a white/grey horse (depending on how you describe it). Set man is going to take photos of people this evening and on Monday for the programme. Producer geezer is going to sort out the biogs for the programme, once I can get the old ones to him. All good stuff.
This morning I had a great piece of news. Grundon waste management are going to sponsor our show again, paying for the publicity production costs to the tune of £680. I rang director him, director her and previous director to give them the good news. Director him is especially pleased. If you remember, he is also the CAST treasurer. Happy man.
Thought for the day: 'Show me the way to go home, I'm tired and I want to go to bed...' Just about everyone who's ever recorded a song anywhere ever. And a lot of drunk people outside pubs at closing time. Including me. Probably.
Tuesday, February 20
Pain and paintings
CUTWELL:
Are you sure this couldn't be sorted out by just getting round a table -
MORT/DEATH
NO.
CUTWELL
One...Two...
(and they start fighting. Slow motion. Strobe effect)
DIRECTOR HER:
Be very careful, remember he's badly hurt himself.
KELI:
They both cheated!
YSABELL:
Of course.
(As they fight the DUKE's hourglass is knocked off the desk or shelf and breaks on the ground)
The Duke of Sto Helit!
KELI:
Isn't there something we can do?
YSABELL:
Mort will lose either way.
(MORT shows signs of tiredness)
DEATH:
YIELD, I MAY BE MERCIFUL. THUS IT ENDS, BOY.
MORT:
Mort. Mort. Mort, you bastard!
DIRECTOR HER/REST OF CAST:
Noooo!
(MORT flies at DEATH in a fury, and DEATH is driven back against a wall, he crumples and tries to fend MORT off with cries of 'Ouch!')
DIRECTOR HER/REST OF CAST:
Stop! You're really hurting him.
MORT:
Sorry mate - are you all right?
DEATH:
No, you've hit me on my fractured rib.
MORT:
Oh no! I didn't know!
DIRECTOR HER:
I shouted out to be careful.....!!!
I think the ginger one felt pretty bad after that incident, although probably not as bad as I did when I got up this morning. Secretary is threatening to send him texts calling him a 'beastly boy'.
My ribs are just one element of the effects of my fall. Actually I think plummet is probably a better term. Anyway, I have also discovered that when you smack your knee on something hard, as the knee cannot bruise a ring of bruising appears around the knee. It, and particularly my upper calf are both a lovely mix of yellow and purple.
The ginger one broke the scythe as well. And he almost broke the sword. Well OK not really. But the switch to turn on the blue lights along the side of the blade won't move and needs replacing. Another task for set man to worry about.
Director her gave me her artwork for the poster/postcards/programme last night. Well I say artwork, what I mean is painting. It's fab! DEATH and Mort on Binky (and she really is very, very good at drawing horses) with the Discworld beneath. You can even see one of The Great A'Tuin's er... are they called flippers? I'm not really an expert on large turtles that fly through space carrying elephants holding entire worlds on their backs.
Of course secretary very carefully put it away in her bag so that no-one spilt beer or tea on it.
When we got home we put it on the table in our lounge. This morning I went to get it to take to work. I looked. It wasn't there. Or rather I should say the sketch pad was there, but her painting wasn't. Two other drawings. No Mort artwork. Cue expletives from secretary and producer. 'Someone must have taken it out of my bag.' 'The ******* ***** probably wanted to have a look at it and forgot to put it back in the ******* bag.' 'I can't believe it. Who'd be so stupid?'
Tonight I rang director her. I told her about it and asked who the last two people to leave the hall were, hoping someone had picked it up. The last two out were director him and director her. Then she asked if we were sure they had taken it out as they would have had to rip it out of the pad.... 'It was quite sticky around the edge, maybe it has got stuck to the back of.........'
DEATH
What do you call the feeling of being very small and hot?
DIRECTOR HER:
Please don't do that to me again!!!!!!
Thought for the day: 'By my troth Nerissa, my little body is a-wearie of this world.' Portia to Nerissa. Act I Scene II. The Merchant of Venice. Willy Shaker. Regularly quoted by my dear secretary. Just spoken as she headed upstairs to bed. She has just added 'Now quit your care and anxious fear and worry for schemes are vain and fretting brings no gain.' That's from a hymn. Apparently. She says it's the start of Lent so we should have a hymn. Well we had pancakes tonight. Actually, when does Lent start? On Ash Wednesday? Or is it the day after Ash Wednesday? I'm sure I have had this conversation with Albert before. Maybe he or one of my lapsed catholic friends could assist on this one...
Are you sure this couldn't be sorted out by just getting round a table -
MORT/DEATH
NO.
CUTWELL
One...Two...
(and they start fighting. Slow motion. Strobe effect)
DIRECTOR HER:
Be very careful, remember he's badly hurt himself.
KELI:
They both cheated!
YSABELL:
Of course.
(As they fight the DUKE's hourglass is knocked off the desk or shelf and breaks on the ground)
The Duke of Sto Helit!
KELI:
Isn't there something we can do?
YSABELL:
Mort will lose either way.
(MORT shows signs of tiredness)
DEATH:
YIELD, I MAY BE MERCIFUL. THUS IT ENDS, BOY.
MORT:
Mort. Mort. Mort, you bastard!
DIRECTOR HER/REST OF CAST:
Noooo!
(MORT flies at DEATH in a fury, and DEATH is driven back against a wall, he crumples and tries to fend MORT off with cries of 'Ouch!')
DIRECTOR HER/REST OF CAST:
Stop! You're really hurting him.
MORT:
Sorry mate - are you all right?
DEATH:
No, you've hit me on my fractured rib.
MORT:
Oh no! I didn't know!
DIRECTOR HER:
I shouted out to be careful.....!!!
I think the ginger one felt pretty bad after that incident, although probably not as bad as I did when I got up this morning. Secretary is threatening to send him texts calling him a 'beastly boy'.
My ribs are just one element of the effects of my fall. Actually I think plummet is probably a better term. Anyway, I have also discovered that when you smack your knee on something hard, as the knee cannot bruise a ring of bruising appears around the knee. It, and particularly my upper calf are both a lovely mix of yellow and purple.
The ginger one broke the scythe as well. And he almost broke the sword. Well OK not really. But the switch to turn on the blue lights along the side of the blade won't move and needs replacing. Another task for set man to worry about.
Director her gave me her artwork for the poster/postcards/programme last night. Well I say artwork, what I mean is painting. It's fab! DEATH and Mort on Binky (and she really is very, very good at drawing horses) with the Discworld beneath. You can even see one of The Great A'Tuin's er... are they called flippers? I'm not really an expert on large turtles that fly through space carrying elephants holding entire worlds on their backs.
Of course secretary very carefully put it away in her bag so that no-one spilt beer or tea on it.
When we got home we put it on the table in our lounge. This morning I went to get it to take to work. I looked. It wasn't there. Or rather I should say the sketch pad was there, but her painting wasn't. Two other drawings. No Mort artwork. Cue expletives from secretary and producer. 'Someone must have taken it out of my bag.' 'The ******* ***** probably wanted to have a look at it and forgot to put it back in the ******* bag.' 'I can't believe it. Who'd be so stupid?'
Tonight I rang director her. I told her about it and asked who the last two people to leave the hall were, hoping someone had picked it up. The last two out were director him and director her. Then she asked if we were sure they had taken it out as they would have had to rip it out of the pad.... 'It was quite sticky around the edge, maybe it has got stuck to the back of.........'
DEATH
What do you call the feeling of being very small and hot?
DIRECTOR HER:
Please don't do that to me again!!!!!!
Thought for the day: 'By my troth Nerissa, my little body is a-wearie of this world.' Portia to Nerissa. Act I Scene II. The Merchant of Venice. Willy Shaker. Regularly quoted by my dear secretary. Just spoken as she headed upstairs to bed. She has just added 'Now quit your care and anxious fear and worry for schemes are vain and fretting brings no gain.' That's from a hymn. Apparently. She says it's the start of Lent so we should have a hymn. Well we had pancakes tonight. Actually, when does Lent start? On Ash Wednesday? Or is it the day after Ash Wednesday? I'm sure I have had this conversation with Albert before. Maybe he or one of my lapsed catholic friends could assist on this one...
I can't fly
That's one thing I have in common with Orville The Duck.
I found out last Monday by 'flying through the air with the greatest of ease, like the daring young man on the flying trapeze', as the song goes. You see, I was trying to be helpful. That can land you in an awful lot of trouble.
I will make my story as brief as possible. But I do say 'try'.
We don't have a gents toilet (or a ladies for that matter) in our office. It's the same for every company in the building. We don't have a kitchen either. If you want the ladies it's the first, third or fifth floor of the six-storey office block. If you need the gents then it's the second or fourth. The communal kitchen is on the third floor at the opposite end of the building to all these toilets.
Now no-one much goes through the fire door at the end of the corridor past the kitchen. There are no offices to be found that way. But there hides a secret... a small stairwell with a toilet on every mezzanine floor on the way down.
It is a place of solitude used by 'those in the know'. Our Leisure Editor uses it. So does our 72-year-old marathon-running part-time sub-editor. But then he has a good excuse - he uses the kitchen the most to make us all cups of tea. Our circulation manager used to use it before he was made redundant. Then there's maybe half-a-dozen others who work in the offices nearest to the kitchen. That's about it.
Then of course there's the cleaner. Let's face it, it's a pretty good job she does know it's there... and last Monday I came out of that toilet and started up the steps towards the kitchen, to meet her coming down the steps towards me, bucket and mop in hand. She's Portuguese (there's a huge Portuguese and Brazilian community in Harlesden and Kensal Green) and very friendly although her English is limited. Far better than my Portuguese mind you.
She asked me whether there was anyone else in the toilet. Being helpful I said I would check for her and turned round halfway up the stairs. That was the crucial decision. Trying to be helpful.
I have epilepsy. It takes two forms. One, major seizures where I fall to the ground and shake all over, bite my tongue etc as you always see it portrayed. Fortunately that has not been a regular problem for more than 12 years. Two, absences where for a moment I will be totally unaware of what is going on around me and then 'come round' maybe two to five seconds later. This will mean my eyes glaze over and if people are talking to me I will just say 'hmmn' a lot. My body will carry on with normal activities. One flatmate watched me continue tying my shoelaces while I had 'blanked out'. I have been making a cup of coffee and put the spoonful of coffee straight into my mouth rather than into the cup. That's not nice. Nicer, however, than what happened when I blanked out on the stairs.
On this occasion I came to not going 'bleuuugh! what's that horrible taste in my mouth' but 'oh dear, the floor seems to be coming towards me at an alarming speed and I think I'm going to bang my.... thud'. Six or seven steps up. Concrete floor. Thin office carpet. Ouch.
Fortunately my glasses fell off during my fall. Fortunately I turned so that I landed on the side of my head not on my face. Fortunately I hit the area between my ear and eye and not my chin.
Cue very upset cleaner. She grabs a bloke aho happens to be in the kitchen to look after me. She then goes down to the ground floor to get the guy from reception. Then they get me some water. Then he goes down to our office to get my deputy. Then he gets a rag from the kitchen for me to hold against my head. Then the cleaner goes into the nearby offices to see if anyone has any ice in a mini-bar. She reappears with an ice-tray and puts some ice into the cloth. After a while holding that against my head I move downstairs and sit in my office for about half an hour hoping that the ice will work quickly and I can get on with my work - after all, it is a Monday.
Eventually our Swedish reporter comes in and tells me that I have to go to hospital as she had a similar thing happen to her and she had to stay in hospital overnight when she was younger. So my deputy drives me to Hammersmith Hospital...
See receptionist. Wait in lobby. See nurse. Go back to wait in lobby. See doctor. Wait in corridor. Be X-rayed. Wait in corridor. See doctor again. But I hadn't fractured anything that the doctor could see. So he told me to rest and be careful....
Thought for the day: 'Those magnificent men in their flying machines, they go up tiddly-om-pom, they go down tiddly-own-down.' Lord only knows. It was a film, but was it something else first? Someone look it up on the internet and tell me.
I found out last Monday by 'flying through the air with the greatest of ease, like the daring young man on the flying trapeze', as the song goes. You see, I was trying to be helpful. That can land you in an awful lot of trouble.
I will make my story as brief as possible. But I do say 'try'.
We don't have a gents toilet (or a ladies for that matter) in our office. It's the same for every company in the building. We don't have a kitchen either. If you want the ladies it's the first, third or fifth floor of the six-storey office block. If you need the gents then it's the second or fourth. The communal kitchen is on the third floor at the opposite end of the building to all these toilets.
Now no-one much goes through the fire door at the end of the corridor past the kitchen. There are no offices to be found that way. But there hides a secret... a small stairwell with a toilet on every mezzanine floor on the way down.
It is a place of solitude used by 'those in the know'. Our Leisure Editor uses it. So does our 72-year-old marathon-running part-time sub-editor. But then he has a good excuse - he uses the kitchen the most to make us all cups of tea. Our circulation manager used to use it before he was made redundant. Then there's maybe half-a-dozen others who work in the offices nearest to the kitchen. That's about it.
Then of course there's the cleaner. Let's face it, it's a pretty good job she does know it's there... and last Monday I came out of that toilet and started up the steps towards the kitchen, to meet her coming down the steps towards me, bucket and mop in hand. She's Portuguese (there's a huge Portuguese and Brazilian community in Harlesden and Kensal Green) and very friendly although her English is limited. Far better than my Portuguese mind you.
She asked me whether there was anyone else in the toilet. Being helpful I said I would check for her and turned round halfway up the stairs. That was the crucial decision. Trying to be helpful.
I have epilepsy. It takes two forms. One, major seizures where I fall to the ground and shake all over, bite my tongue etc as you always see it portrayed. Fortunately that has not been a regular problem for more than 12 years. Two, absences where for a moment I will be totally unaware of what is going on around me and then 'come round' maybe two to five seconds later. This will mean my eyes glaze over and if people are talking to me I will just say 'hmmn' a lot. My body will carry on with normal activities. One flatmate watched me continue tying my shoelaces while I had 'blanked out'. I have been making a cup of coffee and put the spoonful of coffee straight into my mouth rather than into the cup. That's not nice. Nicer, however, than what happened when I blanked out on the stairs.
On this occasion I came to not going 'bleuuugh! what's that horrible taste in my mouth' but 'oh dear, the floor seems to be coming towards me at an alarming speed and I think I'm going to bang my.... thud'. Six or seven steps up. Concrete floor. Thin office carpet. Ouch.
Fortunately my glasses fell off during my fall. Fortunately I turned so that I landed on the side of my head not on my face. Fortunately I hit the area between my ear and eye and not my chin.
Cue very upset cleaner. She grabs a bloke aho happens to be in the kitchen to look after me. She then goes down to the ground floor to get the guy from reception. Then they get me some water. Then he goes down to our office to get my deputy. Then he gets a rag from the kitchen for me to hold against my head. Then the cleaner goes into the nearby offices to see if anyone has any ice in a mini-bar. She reappears with an ice-tray and puts some ice into the cloth. After a while holding that against my head I move downstairs and sit in my office for about half an hour hoping that the ice will work quickly and I can get on with my work - after all, it is a Monday.
Eventually our Swedish reporter comes in and tells me that I have to go to hospital as she had a similar thing happen to her and she had to stay in hospital overnight when she was younger. So my deputy drives me to Hammersmith Hospital...
See receptionist. Wait in lobby. See nurse. Go back to wait in lobby. See doctor. Wait in corridor. Be X-rayed. Wait in corridor. See doctor again. But I hadn't fractured anything that the doctor could see. So he told me to rest and be careful....
Thought for the day: 'Those magnificent men in their flying machines, they go up tiddly-om-pom, they go down tiddly-own-down.' Lord only knows. It was a film, but was it something else first? Someone look it up on the internet and tell me.
Monday, February 19
Head lines
My head hurts. Not as much as it did this time last week though. At this point seven days ago I was emerging from Hammersmith Hospital having been told that I hadn't fractured my skull. Which was some kind of compensation.
I'll explain exactly what happened at a point when looking into a computer screen for extended periods of time doesn't increase my headache.
For the moment I shall confine myself to saying that I missed both rehearsals last week In the meantime director her has drawn the poster, which I shall be given at the rehearsal tonight, previous producer has been hard at work sorting costumes and secretary has confirmed that NODA will review the show and that we will have a visit from the Mayor of Slough who apparently is a huge Pratchett fan.
We have a committee meeting on Wednesday which will become a production meeting at some point part way through. More details about how the world has progressed in the past few days will be forthcoming then and of course tonight at rehearsal.
Thought for the day: 'Since you been gone, since you been gone, I'm out of my head can't take it...' Rainbow. Zippy & George. Oh yes. No I won't explain. Well not now anyway. (I had to choose a piece of headbanging music... ho! ho! ho!)
I'll explain exactly what happened at a point when looking into a computer screen for extended periods of time doesn't increase my headache.
For the moment I shall confine myself to saying that I missed both rehearsals last week In the meantime director her has drawn the poster, which I shall be given at the rehearsal tonight, previous producer has been hard at work sorting costumes and secretary has confirmed that NODA will review the show and that we will have a visit from the Mayor of Slough who apparently is a huge Pratchett fan.
We have a committee meeting on Wednesday which will become a production meeting at some point part way through. More details about how the world has progressed in the past few days will be forthcoming then and of course tonight at rehearsal.
Thought for the day: 'Since you been gone, since you been gone, I'm out of my head can't take it...' Rainbow. Zippy & George. Oh yes. No I won't explain. Well not now anyway. (I had to choose a piece of headbanging music... ho! ho! ho!)
Sunday, February 11
Radio Ga-ga
We have become pretty good at publicising our shows in recent years. There are the usual posters around the village and local shops. There are postcards through all the letterboxes in the village. Actually, the postcards idea was devised by rincewind when he directed his self-penned play Stranded this time last year and they have been used for each show since. Neat. Then there are the leaflets for handing out at 'events'. These occasions vary from village fetes for the summer show to turning on the Christmas lights for panto.
Last summer in the stinking heat we walked round Wexham Park hospital handing postcards out to the staff. In and out of the offices, along the wards and into the cafeteria. Not into the nurses quarters though, which upset director him no end. Especially as he was dressed as a Roman centurion at the time.
I spent a long hot day (the hottest of the summer) trudging up and down the Bath Road in Slough Trading Estate persuading companies that, yes, they really did want a couple of posters and 20-odd postcards to promote the show through their staff social club/restaurant/staff noticeboards/foyer tables. I would like to point out that this was during the World Cup. I would also like to point out that I had taken time off work to watch the football. I would finally like to point out that I missed the first half of one of the games in order to do this distribution of publicity material. Dedicated or daft? I sometimes wonder.
We have good contacts with the local press. Well town crier works for the Express so we do have an advantage there. The Observer are pretty good to us too as they hate to be outdone by their rivals. So much so, that they sometimes end up giving us even better coverage.
But one of the great recent successes has been through radio. We are lucky to have a great relationship with Time 106.6 FM, the radio station in Slough. So good that producer geezer arranged, as I said he would, for director him and footnote to go in today to record an advert which will be played twice a day from now until the show. All the ones we have done before have been top class. I am looking forward to hearing this one. It's a great way to reach people outside our normal catchment area, and for TP I think that can only be a really, really good thing.
I will say something else about the power of radio. We had Virgin on when we were doing the big costume sort-out last weekend. They have this really annoying advert which has part of Queen's I Want It All as the soundtrack. I love Queen. I have all their albums and saw them live on two different tours. However, I do not want to hear part of one of their songs 20 times in the course of a day. Please.
I was singing it all day the next day. And the day after that. The following day secretary and I were driving along happily listening to Virgin in the car and the first 'I Wa...' came on and I turned the radio off instantly. That is bad advertising. Really bad. In fact it's so bad that I can't tell you what product they were advertising. Really.
Thought for the day:
'I go out to work on Monday morning,
Tuesday I go off to honeymoon,
I'll be back again before it's time for sunny-down,
I'll be lazing on a Sunday afternoon.
Bicycling on every Wednesday evening,
Thursday I go waltzing to the zoo,
I come from London Town I'm just an ordinary guy,
Fridays I go painting in the Louvre,
I'm bound to be proposing on a Saturday night,
(There he goes again)
I'll be lazing on a Sunday,
Lazing on a Sunday,
Lazing on a Sunday afternoon.'
Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon. Freddie Mercury. A Night At The Opera. Queen.
Last summer in the stinking heat we walked round Wexham Park hospital handing postcards out to the staff. In and out of the offices, along the wards and into the cafeteria. Not into the nurses quarters though, which upset director him no end. Especially as he was dressed as a Roman centurion at the time.
I spent a long hot day (the hottest of the summer) trudging up and down the Bath Road in Slough Trading Estate persuading companies that, yes, they really did want a couple of posters and 20-odd postcards to promote the show through their staff social club/restaurant/staff noticeboards/foyer tables. I would like to point out that this was during the World Cup. I would also like to point out that I had taken time off work to watch the football. I would finally like to point out that I missed the first half of one of the games in order to do this distribution of publicity material. Dedicated or daft? I sometimes wonder.
We have good contacts with the local press. Well town crier works for the Express so we do have an advantage there. The Observer are pretty good to us too as they hate to be outdone by their rivals. So much so, that they sometimes end up giving us even better coverage.
But one of the great recent successes has been through radio. We are lucky to have a great relationship with Time 106.6 FM, the radio station in Slough. So good that producer geezer arranged, as I said he would, for director him and footnote to go in today to record an advert which will be played twice a day from now until the show. All the ones we have done before have been top class. I am looking forward to hearing this one. It's a great way to reach people outside our normal catchment area, and for TP I think that can only be a really, really good thing.
I will say something else about the power of radio. We had Virgin on when we were doing the big costume sort-out last weekend. They have this really annoying advert which has part of Queen's I Want It All as the soundtrack. I love Queen. I have all their albums and saw them live on two different tours. However, I do not want to hear part of one of their songs 20 times in the course of a day. Please.
I was singing it all day the next day. And the day after that. The following day secretary and I were driving along happily listening to Virgin in the car and the first 'I Wa...' came on and I turned the radio off instantly. That is bad advertising. Really bad. In fact it's so bad that I can't tell you what product they were advertising. Really.
Thought for the day:
'I go out to work on Monday morning,
Tuesday I go off to honeymoon,
I'll be back again before it's time for sunny-down,
I'll be lazing on a Sunday afternoon.
Bicycling on every Wednesday evening,
Thursday I go waltzing to the zoo,
I come from London Town I'm just an ordinary guy,
Fridays I go painting in the Louvre,
I'm bound to be proposing on a Saturday night,
(There he goes again)
I'll be lazing on a Sunday,
Lazing on a Sunday,
Lazing on a Sunday afternoon.'
Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon. Freddie Mercury. A Night At The Opera. Queen.
Thursday, February 8
Jolly chilly
Two good nights, with a lot of snow and 210 works of art inbetween. What am I talking about. Well it's pretty abstract I know, but then so was a lot of the art...
Last night a few of us... well OK then... director him, director her, producer, the ginger one, Albert, Ysabell, Cutwell, previous producer, footnote and bursar... gathered at the hall to record the entire show so that the cast can use it to learn their lines. We reckon we can sell the recordings on front of house. Or maybe not.
Footnote and producer did come up with a good knock, knock joke though. 'Knock, knock.' 'Who's there?' 'Ysabell.' 'Ysabell who?' 'Is ya bell not working?' Well we reckoned it was very, very funny and don't care what you think.
It was bloody cold down there. It always is in the hall. This, however, was ridiculous. As I had expected, secretary didn't join us. She was and still is feeling pants. I mean as in 'not well'. I don't mean as in my underwear. Although she does do that too. For sorting out the laundry of course. Yes.
Anyway, it was, as I said, a trifle cold. The coldest night of the year so far to my reckoning. There was plenty of snow when I woke up this morning. Needless to say, it took 40 minutes for a cab to get to the house and 45 minutes to do the normal five minute journey to Langley station. Mad. I cannot believe the way the whole country stops with a small fall of snow. Our Swedish reporter at the paper thinks it's hilarious.
I was at Brent Town Hall all day. Chairing a group of judges to select works of art by school students for an auction. Five judges, 210 pieces to judge and we had to be finished by 3pm. I wanted to be there by 8.30am. I arrived at 9.50am. Bloody snow.
It was knackering. We each had to go round filling out forms to decide which ones went up for auction (the best) which ones went into an exhibition and which ones went back to the schools (the worst). Then we had to see which ones we could agree on. Then we had to go round as a group to try to make a decision on the 50 or so which we had different opinions about. Bonkers.
We finished at about 4.30pm. After boxing all the art up into the right order in the right categories and loading it into a cab it was 6pm. Remarkably, I made it home in time to grab a quick meal before director him picked me up for rehearsal.
Of course, just like yesterday, numerous people were not there. And of course the same ten from last night were there. Plus pregnant wizard, town crier and high priest. Some people rang with good excuses, some with poor ones and some didn't bother to call at all. Irritating.
It was a lot of fun though. Memos to self; talk quicker, stride don't shuffle; be more angry at the end. Oh and next time bring down my own script with all my notes in it rather than secretary's.
The ginger one burned off CDs for those who wanted them and he is now off to Arizona for a week. Someone is going to have fun standing in for him...
It all gets serious from now on. Need to learn those words. We all do. That, after all, is why we were there in the cold until gone midnight last night. I hope the rest of the cast appreciate it, bless 'em.
Two more things. Ysabell has a mind like a sewer. Then again I knew what she was thinking, so I must be on the same level. All of us are in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. And judging by the expression on her face a couple of times tonight... Well actually the point is that we are the stars... Obviously.
The other thing is that the snow is quite funny in some ways. Secretary had a text from a colleague this morning saying: "I won't be able to get into work today, there's snow outside my house." Then her boss said she couldn't get in because her electric gates at the end of her drive and frozen solid and wouldn't open. Fantastic.
Thought for the day: 'We're walking in a Winter Wonderland.' Winter Wonderland. By loads of people. Secretary has about a dozen different recordings. She likes her Christmas music.
Last night a few of us... well OK then... director him, director her, producer, the ginger one, Albert, Ysabell, Cutwell, previous producer, footnote and bursar... gathered at the hall to record the entire show so that the cast can use it to learn their lines. We reckon we can sell the recordings on front of house. Or maybe not.
Footnote and producer did come up with a good knock, knock joke though. 'Knock, knock.' 'Who's there?' 'Ysabell.' 'Ysabell who?' 'Is ya bell not working?' Well we reckoned it was very, very funny and don't care what you think.
It was bloody cold down there. It always is in the hall. This, however, was ridiculous. As I had expected, secretary didn't join us. She was and still is feeling pants. I mean as in 'not well'. I don't mean as in my underwear. Although she does do that too. For sorting out the laundry of course. Yes.
Anyway, it was, as I said, a trifle cold. The coldest night of the year so far to my reckoning. There was plenty of snow when I woke up this morning. Needless to say, it took 40 minutes for a cab to get to the house and 45 minutes to do the normal five minute journey to Langley station. Mad. I cannot believe the way the whole country stops with a small fall of snow. Our Swedish reporter at the paper thinks it's hilarious.
I was at Brent Town Hall all day. Chairing a group of judges to select works of art by school students for an auction. Five judges, 210 pieces to judge and we had to be finished by 3pm. I wanted to be there by 8.30am. I arrived at 9.50am. Bloody snow.
It was knackering. We each had to go round filling out forms to decide which ones went up for auction (the best) which ones went into an exhibition and which ones went back to the schools (the worst). Then we had to see which ones we could agree on. Then we had to go round as a group to try to make a decision on the 50 or so which we had different opinions about. Bonkers.
We finished at about 4.30pm. After boxing all the art up into the right order in the right categories and loading it into a cab it was 6pm. Remarkably, I made it home in time to grab a quick meal before director him picked me up for rehearsal.
Of course, just like yesterday, numerous people were not there. And of course the same ten from last night were there. Plus pregnant wizard, town crier and high priest. Some people rang with good excuses, some with poor ones and some didn't bother to call at all. Irritating.
It was a lot of fun though. Memos to self; talk quicker, stride don't shuffle; be more angry at the end. Oh and next time bring down my own script with all my notes in it rather than secretary's.
The ginger one burned off CDs for those who wanted them and he is now off to Arizona for a week. Someone is going to have fun standing in for him...
It all gets serious from now on. Need to learn those words. We all do. That, after all, is why we were there in the cold until gone midnight last night. I hope the rest of the cast appreciate it, bless 'em.
Two more things. Ysabell has a mind like a sewer. Then again I knew what she was thinking, so I must be on the same level. All of us are in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. And judging by the expression on her face a couple of times tonight... Well actually the point is that we are the stars... Obviously.
The other thing is that the snow is quite funny in some ways. Secretary had a text from a colleague this morning saying: "I won't be able to get into work today, there's snow outside my house." Then her boss said she couldn't get in because her electric gates at the end of her drive and frozen solid and wouldn't open. Fantastic.
Thought for the day: 'We're walking in a Winter Wonderland.' Winter Wonderland. By loads of people. Secretary has about a dozen different recordings. She likes her Christmas music.
Wednesday, February 7
Making hay while the snow falls
Went to see Hay Fever at the Theatre Royal last night. It may seem as though I am going a lot. Well that's because I am. But there have been four shows in a row that secretary and I have wanted to see so we decided to go. The posse this time was director him, setman, box office and high priest. We had two pull out on the day. As usual we went for a meal at pizza express beforehand. Well everyone except director him. We were sat up in the gods about three rows in front of where we were for The Unexpected Guest. Stephanie Beecham was magnificent.
When the show finished we looked at the pictures in the corridor. I noticed one of a previous production of Hay Fever and box office spotted one for An Inspector Calls, a show he has always wanted direct. I then said I would love to do 12 Angry Men. We went through the list of possible Cast members past and present who might be capable of doing it. We thought of 11. Then we remembered town crier. Set man said in that case we would have to change the title to 11 Angry Men And One Who's Slightly Miffed. That works for me.
Tonight we are reading through the script to give everyone a recording to practice their lines. A few people won't be there, but that doesn't matter. People can read in. Actually I'm not sure whether secretary is going to make it down as she is feeling pretty poorly.
Talking of people not being there, I have this horrible feeling that one or two people may not be here at work tomorrow. They are predicting the heaviest snow in years. Five to seven inches. I have to judge pictures for an art auction tomorrow. I need to be in Wembley by 8.45am. I can see that being a litlle bit of a problem.
Thought for the day: 'Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow...' Doris Day's Christmas Album. Which I bought for secretary this Christmas. She loves Doris.
When the show finished we looked at the pictures in the corridor. I noticed one of a previous production of Hay Fever and box office spotted one for An Inspector Calls, a show he has always wanted direct. I then said I would love to do 12 Angry Men. We went through the list of possible Cast members past and present who might be capable of doing it. We thought of 11. Then we remembered town crier. Set man said in that case we would have to change the title to 11 Angry Men And One Who's Slightly Miffed. That works for me.
Tonight we are reading through the script to give everyone a recording to practice their lines. A few people won't be there, but that doesn't matter. People can read in. Actually I'm not sure whether secretary is going to make it down as she is feeling pretty poorly.
Talking of people not being there, I have this horrible feeling that one or two people may not be here at work tomorrow. They are predicting the heaviest snow in years. Five to seven inches. I have to judge pictures for an art auction tomorrow. I need to be in Wembley by 8.45am. I can see that being a litlle bit of a problem.
Thought for the day: 'Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow...' Doris Day's Christmas Album. Which I bought for secretary this Christmas. She loves Doris.
Tuesday, February 6
Recorded at last
Another rehearsal missed tonight. Pain in the bum. Not that I was the only one. Keli couldn't make it and previous producer is ill. She's probably worn herself into the ground after the efforts of Friday and Saturday night. At least we have an extra session on Wednesday to read through the whole show and record it onto disk for everyone to learn their lines. Then it's a complete run through on Thursday, before the ginger one heads off to the USA - Arizona to be precise - for a week.
Sunday was another one of those days which vanished into Cast activities. We put on a one night charity concert this time last year; the full details of the whys and wherefores I shall not cover now. In among all the songs that were performed we had a series of speeches which I had written to link the whole thing together. Trouble was, when we came to putting the DVD together there were four of the seven speeches missing because they had been used as the points to change the video.
Now a week is a long time in politics, they say. Well a year is a ridiculous length of time for a bunch of luvvies to wait to get their hands on copies of the DVD. But could the ginger one, scud, previous chairperson (they're married - remember that one too) and producer manage to be in the same place at the same time, complete with evening dress and copies of the speeches, for previous director to record? Could we hell. I have to say that on one occasion last August, secretary and producer were coming back from holiday and completely forgot about it. So I take the blame there. But with the anniversary fast approaching we decided we should put on a special showing and dish out the complete DVDs then. What is it about deadlines?
For me this involves designing and producing labels for the DVDs, an outer cover and an inner booklet, the first two of which I completed on Sunday (either side of a fabulous roast lunch prepared by secretary) and then we went round to scud and previous chairperson's pad (that's right, well remembered) to do the recordings. Needless to say, for producer and previous director this involved a couple of takes. For scud... well I'm not sure, but it was nearer to ten than two. A man in search of perfection....
Previous director now has all he needs to put the finished article together, while producer works on the inner booklet. It should be a nice little package - a fitting tribute to the occasion. Like I said though, that is one for another occasion.
Most important thing today though was an email from domefur to confirm our booking to go to Berlin. Looks like it will only be domefur, virtual dildo, scud and producer. No previous director or Albert which leaves a big hole, but then scud and domefur couldn't make it at the last minute a year ago. It will be great. Our first event in Germany. Oh the things that Cast brought us together to do.
Thought for the day: 'Darf ich Destroya vorstellen.' I could have written other things, but babelfish is a dangerous website to start playing around with at this time of night. Albert will vouch for that. And domefur. It nearly destroyed their lives...
Sunday was another one of those days which vanished into Cast activities. We put on a one night charity concert this time last year; the full details of the whys and wherefores I shall not cover now. In among all the songs that were performed we had a series of speeches which I had written to link the whole thing together. Trouble was, when we came to putting the DVD together there were four of the seven speeches missing because they had been used as the points to change the video.
Now a week is a long time in politics, they say. Well a year is a ridiculous length of time for a bunch of luvvies to wait to get their hands on copies of the DVD. But could the ginger one, scud, previous chairperson (they're married - remember that one too) and producer manage to be in the same place at the same time, complete with evening dress and copies of the speeches, for previous director to record? Could we hell. I have to say that on one occasion last August, secretary and producer were coming back from holiday and completely forgot about it. So I take the blame there. But with the anniversary fast approaching we decided we should put on a special showing and dish out the complete DVDs then. What is it about deadlines?
For me this involves designing and producing labels for the DVDs, an outer cover and an inner booklet, the first two of which I completed on Sunday (either side of a fabulous roast lunch prepared by secretary) and then we went round to scud and previous chairperson's pad (that's right, well remembered) to do the recordings. Needless to say, for producer and previous director this involved a couple of takes. For scud... well I'm not sure, but it was nearer to ten than two. A man in search of perfection....
Previous director now has all he needs to put the finished article together, while producer works on the inner booklet. It should be a nice little package - a fitting tribute to the occasion. Like I said though, that is one for another occasion.
Most important thing today though was an email from domefur to confirm our booking to go to Berlin. Looks like it will only be domefur, virtual dildo, scud and producer. No previous director or Albert which leaves a big hole, but then scud and domefur couldn't make it at the last minute a year ago. It will be great. Our first event in Germany. Oh the things that Cast brought us together to do.
Thought for the day: 'Darf ich Destroya vorstellen.' I could have written other things, but babelfish is a dangerous website to start playing around with at this time of night. Albert will vouch for that. And domefur. It nearly destroyed their lives...
Saturday, February 3
Clearing out the Tardis
Last night previous producer, previous director, set man, box office and secretary spent six hours taking everything out of the Tardis. These pictures show what it looked like. Today previous producer, previous director, set man, director him, high priest, saturday landlord and producer spent nine hours sorting through it all, chucking out as much as possible, and putting it back into the Tardis in a more orderly fashion. It was all very neccessary in order for us to be able to do the show in comfort and know what exactly is where.
All this has nothing to do with Billie Piper. It wasn't one of the things I included in my letter to try to win her over. I am in this case referring to Time And Relative Diminsions In Shite. Otherwise known as the Colnbrook Village Hall loft.
It's been full of junk for as long as I can remember and the bulk of it belongs to the Colnbrook Residents Association and the village hall trust. The loft is actually the gallery where the lights are controlled from for each show. In an ideal world the person calling the show is also up there.
For the last three years or so our ever expanding collection of costumes has lived up there and outgrown the space available.
Previous producer has been photographing and logging the costumes and chucking out the junk. There have been two or three occassions when we have taken all of them down from the loft and she and her team have sorted vast numbers of them out. Set man and producer spent on session after our own clear out of 'the shed' (more on that another time) going through the hats, logging and photographing them. Yes, we have quite a lot of hats. We have quite a lot of everything actually.
All this has nothing to do with Billie Piper. It wasn't one of the things I included in my letter to try to win her over. I am in this case referring to Time And Relative Diminsions In Shite. Otherwise known as the Colnbrook Village Hall loft.
It's been full of junk for as long as I can remember and the bulk of it belongs to the Colnbrook Residents Association and the village hall trust. The loft is actually the gallery where the lights are controlled from for each show. In an ideal world the person calling the show is also up there.
For the last three years or so our ever expanding collection of costumes has lived up there and outgrown the space available.
Previous producer has been photographing and logging the costumes and chucking out the junk. There have been two or three occassions when we have taken all of them down from the loft and she and her team have sorted vast numbers of them out. Set man and producer spent on session after our own clear out of 'the shed' (more on that another time) going through the hats, logging and photographing them. Yes, we have quite a lot of hats. We have quite a lot of everything actually.
Set man and saturday landlord are spending quite a lot of time at the back of the hall during rehearsals taking photographs of items, while previous producer enters them on a massive database. I have called it a database rather than a spreadsheet, because, although previous producer is famous for her spreadsheets, the word really doesn't do the whole thing justice.
To give an idea of what we were doing today, let's give some statistics. Director him made two trips to the dump with a car crammed full of stuff we had thrown out. Secretary just about managed to fit in her car all the stuff for the Age Concern shop - there wasn't any room for a passenger to fit in to help unload it. We have 23 full giant plastic crates (with lids) full of costumes. We have more than a dozen huge suitcase shaped plastic zipper bags with more costumes, material, shoes and boots. And then there is all the remaining stuff belonging to CVH and CRA which we wrapped and stacked in open crates and boxes. And then there is all the other stuff. From clothes rails to tribal spears (not the britney spear - I'm not sure where that's gone...) from a plastic cash register to a pair of lanterns. But it all went back in a tidy state and the floor of the loft can still be seen - and there is almost room to swing a cat. How it all fitted back in, I'm still unsure. Maybe it really is a proper Tardis. Damn! In that case I should have put it in my letter to Billie after all. Talking of which, at the rehearsal on Thursday, when we completed Act Two, the ginger one said he had a good feeling about the whole honorary president exercise. Keep praying to the picture everyone.
Thought for the day: 'There is no escape. Return the Tardis immediately to our home planet... You have broken our laws. You must face your trial.' The Time Lords summon the second Doctor back to Gallifrey in The War Games, his final story.
If you thought Billie leaving in Doomsday was a bit dramatic, then you should try this one. Patrick Troughton ended his tenure as The Doctor. His two assistants, Jamie and Zoe had all memories of their time with The Doctor wiped and were each returned to the places they came from. The Time Lords sent The Doctor to Earth and removed the ability of the Tardis to travel.
So in the next series, the first episodes of the 1970s, The Doctor was played by Jon Pertwee. He had a new assistant - Liz Shaw. He worked alongside UNIT (The United Nations Intelligence Taskforce) with its leader Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. He was stranded on Earth, for the bulk the next three years (in order to save the BBC money). And it was shot in colour for the first time (which was why they needed to save money).
A pretty dramatic change. Jon Pertwee I loved as The Doctor. In many ways he is still the one I like the best. I hated Liz Shaw. She had replaced Zoe. I had a really big six and seven-year-old's crush on Wendy Padbury. I was really upset when she went. But Liz Shaw only lasted one series and then she was replaced by Jo Grant. I had an even bigger nine, ten and 11-year-old's crush on Katy Manning. Funnily enough when she was replaced by Sarah-Jane Smith I didn't like her much, until Jon Pertwee left and Tom Baker came along and she seemed OK then. I never fancied her though. But I was upset when she left.
My God Billie's replacement has got her work cut out winning over a lot of children's hearts over the coming episodes...
To give an idea of what we were doing today, let's give some statistics. Director him made two trips to the dump with a car crammed full of stuff we had thrown out. Secretary just about managed to fit in her car all the stuff for the Age Concern shop - there wasn't any room for a passenger to fit in to help unload it. We have 23 full giant plastic crates (with lids) full of costumes. We have more than a dozen huge suitcase shaped plastic zipper bags with more costumes, material, shoes and boots. And then there is all the remaining stuff belonging to CVH and CRA which we wrapped and stacked in open crates and boxes. And then there is all the other stuff. From clothes rails to tribal spears (not the britney spear - I'm not sure where that's gone...) from a plastic cash register to a pair of lanterns. But it all went back in a tidy state and the floor of the loft can still be seen - and there is almost room to swing a cat. How it all fitted back in, I'm still unsure. Maybe it really is a proper Tardis. Damn! In that case I should have put it in my letter to Billie after all. Talking of which, at the rehearsal on Thursday, when we completed Act Two, the ginger one said he had a good feeling about the whole honorary president exercise. Keep praying to the picture everyone.
Thought for the day: 'There is no escape. Return the Tardis immediately to our home planet... You have broken our laws. You must face your trial.' The Time Lords summon the second Doctor back to Gallifrey in The War Games, his final story.
If you thought Billie leaving in Doomsday was a bit dramatic, then you should try this one. Patrick Troughton ended his tenure as The Doctor. His two assistants, Jamie and Zoe had all memories of their time with The Doctor wiped and were each returned to the places they came from. The Time Lords sent The Doctor to Earth and removed the ability of the Tardis to travel.
So in the next series, the first episodes of the 1970s, The Doctor was played by Jon Pertwee. He had a new assistant - Liz Shaw. He worked alongside UNIT (The United Nations Intelligence Taskforce) with its leader Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. He was stranded on Earth, for the bulk the next three years (in order to save the BBC money). And it was shot in colour for the first time (which was why they needed to save money).
A pretty dramatic change. Jon Pertwee I loved as The Doctor. In many ways he is still the one I like the best. I hated Liz Shaw. She had replaced Zoe. I had a really big six and seven-year-old's crush on Wendy Padbury. I was really upset when she went. But Liz Shaw only lasted one series and then she was replaced by Jo Grant. I had an even bigger nine, ten and 11-year-old's crush on Katy Manning. Funnily enough when she was replaced by Sarah-Jane Smith I didn't like her much, until Jon Pertwee left and Tom Baker came along and she seemed OK then. I never fancied her though. But I was upset when she left.
My God Billie's replacement has got her work cut out winning over a lot of children's hearts over the coming episodes...
Friday, February 2
National coverage
We've always been pretty good at publicity, but box office has taken things to a new level... last night (that's Wednesday for those of you who are pedantic) he was on the Geoff show on Virgin radio. Talking about Cast. Not about Mort, truth be known, but still talking about us.
He rang up in response to the question: 'Have you ever had anything strange happen to you while you have been dressed up as an animal.' Well how many stories from the annals of Cast did they want? But he picked the best.
Those of you who have read allaboutdick.blogspot.com will know that we made a tour of London organised by yours truly (called programme producer on that blog) to take promo pics for the press and to use on other publicity and in the programme. You may know this story from that blog.
But if not...
Among the places we visited were the house where Dick Whittington lived, and the church he founded next door, where he is buried. There are plaques on both of them and Keli, who played Dick, and previous producer, who was dressed in a huge cat costume, had their pics taken with each of them. We then took a line-up shot by the plaque on the side of the church before walking down the tiny street to the front of the church.... where a tour guide was telling a group of tourists all about Dick Wittington.
"This is the church where Dick Whittington, four times Lord Mayor of London is buried..." We came round the corner just as he turned round towards us and taking things beautifully in his stride he carried on his chat. "...and here he comes, accompanied by his cat. And now if you will follow me this way..."
The tourists snapped away with their cameras before scurrying off after him. He will be dining out on that one for years. We walked into Whittington Gardens opposite laughing our heads off and got on with taking our own photos.
So the late night listeners to Virgin Radio now all know the tale - and maybe that tour guide was listening himself.
Thought for the day: 'All we here is radio ga-ga, radio go-go, radio blah-blah.' Radio Gaga. Roger Taylor. The Works. Queen.
He rang up in response to the question: 'Have you ever had anything strange happen to you while you have been dressed up as an animal.' Well how many stories from the annals of Cast did they want? But he picked the best.
Those of you who have read allaboutdick.blogspot.com will know that we made a tour of London organised by yours truly (called programme producer on that blog) to take promo pics for the press and to use on other publicity and in the programme. You may know this story from that blog.
But if not...
Among the places we visited were the house where Dick Whittington lived, and the church he founded next door, where he is buried. There are plaques on both of them and Keli, who played Dick, and previous producer, who was dressed in a huge cat costume, had their pics taken with each of them. We then took a line-up shot by the plaque on the side of the church before walking down the tiny street to the front of the church.... where a tour guide was telling a group of tourists all about Dick Wittington.
"This is the church where Dick Whittington, four times Lord Mayor of London is buried..." We came round the corner just as he turned round towards us and taking things beautifully in his stride he carried on his chat. "...and here he comes, accompanied by his cat. And now if you will follow me this way..."
The tourists snapped away with their cameras before scurrying off after him. He will be dining out on that one for years. We walked into Whittington Gardens opposite laughing our heads off and got on with taking our own photos.
So the late night listeners to Virgin Radio now all know the tale - and maybe that tour guide was listening himself.
Thought for the day: 'All we here is radio ga-ga, radio go-go, radio blah-blah.' Radio Gaga. Roger Taylor. The Works. Queen.
Wednesday, January 31
Official sponsorship
One of the reporters just came into my office. He offered me a Werthers Original. I just had to say yes. I am eating it as I write. I just have to write something. It's not really specific to this show, but very important to the group. Why? Here goes...
For our 2003 pantomime we did Jack & The Beanstalk, written/adapted and produced by box office. It was directed by producer geezer. But in addition to the normal cast of principal boy, principal girl, dame and panto animal etc there were two elderly ladies. Or rather scud and producer playing two elderly ladies. Ethel and Vera. As members of the audience. In a royal box. Passing comment on every scene during the set changes. And sometimes during the scenes. Especially on the last night. A bit like Waldorf and Stadler from the muppets.
It was an idea which worked very well and box office let us write our own script rather than give us dialogue. We had a chance to change and adapt things during the run. On the first Saturday England won the Rugby World Cup, so that became part of the act. We had stuff about everything from Saga holidays to Michael Jackson dangling a baby out of a hotel window. From Stanna stairlifts to George Bush. From Goldfish to beer. The NODA rep who reviewed the show loved it. Said it was the best thing about the show in fact. Oh NODA stands for National Operatic and Dramatic Association by the way.
On the last night there was a notorious incident involving sausages. But the most important item to come out of the whole exercise was the cult status of Werthers. We did the advert where the elderly man tells the story of how his grandpa gave him werthers when he was a little boy and he now gives them to his grandchildren. And then we threw them into the audience like normal panto sweets.
Loads of the kids there had never heard of them. It all changed in those two weeks. One young member of the audience, whose mum was playing the principal boy, became a total addict.
So the next year for Snow White & The Seven Dwarves, out they came again. Not from Ethel and Vera. They had retired. But from the Dame (played by rival). And then the following year in Treasure Island as well. And so last year secretary decided to do something about it. After all, Werthers are not cheap. Not when you throw them out by the handful. So she wrote to Germany to the company who make them. Bendicks, who also make the high class mints. She offered them the chance to become the official pantomime confectionary sponsors in return for sending us shed loads of Werthers. And they agreed. And they sent a huge box of them, by post, from Germany.
So just before the end of every performance of Dick Whittington, while the cast were getting changed into their walkdown wedding costumes, Father Christmas was dishing out piles of Werthers to the audience. And now it's official, it's never going to change. So to everyone in the group, Werthers only mean one thing. Of course I had to tell my reporter that. Poor bloke. All he did was come to offer me a sweet. I might have done my own legs in here. He probably won't bother in future, scared that I might have a story to tell about Wrigley's Extra. Or Revels. Or Jelly Babies. In fact, come to think of it, I do have a story about Revels....
Thought for the day:
'She's got a smile that it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
Where everything
Was as fresh as the bright blue sky
Now and then when I see her face
She takes me away to that special place
And if I stared too long
I'd probably break down and cry
Sweet child o' mine'
Guns 'n' Roses
For our 2003 pantomime we did Jack & The Beanstalk, written/adapted and produced by box office. It was directed by producer geezer. But in addition to the normal cast of principal boy, principal girl, dame and panto animal etc there were two elderly ladies. Or rather scud and producer playing two elderly ladies. Ethel and Vera. As members of the audience. In a royal box. Passing comment on every scene during the set changes. And sometimes during the scenes. Especially on the last night. A bit like Waldorf and Stadler from the muppets.
It was an idea which worked very well and box office let us write our own script rather than give us dialogue. We had a chance to change and adapt things during the run. On the first Saturday England won the Rugby World Cup, so that became part of the act. We had stuff about everything from Saga holidays to Michael Jackson dangling a baby out of a hotel window. From Stanna stairlifts to George Bush. From Goldfish to beer. The NODA rep who reviewed the show loved it. Said it was the best thing about the show in fact. Oh NODA stands for National Operatic and Dramatic Association by the way.
On the last night there was a notorious incident involving sausages. But the most important item to come out of the whole exercise was the cult status of Werthers. We did the advert where the elderly man tells the story of how his grandpa gave him werthers when he was a little boy and he now gives them to his grandchildren. And then we threw them into the audience like normal panto sweets.
Loads of the kids there had never heard of them. It all changed in those two weeks. One young member of the audience, whose mum was playing the principal boy, became a total addict.
So the next year for Snow White & The Seven Dwarves, out they came again. Not from Ethel and Vera. They had retired. But from the Dame (played by rival). And then the following year in Treasure Island as well. And so last year secretary decided to do something about it. After all, Werthers are not cheap. Not when you throw them out by the handful. So she wrote to Germany to the company who make them. Bendicks, who also make the high class mints. She offered them the chance to become the official pantomime confectionary sponsors in return for sending us shed loads of Werthers. And they agreed. And they sent a huge box of them, by post, from Germany.
So just before the end of every performance of Dick Whittington, while the cast were getting changed into their walkdown wedding costumes, Father Christmas was dishing out piles of Werthers to the audience. And now it's official, it's never going to change. So to everyone in the group, Werthers only mean one thing. Of course I had to tell my reporter that. Poor bloke. All he did was come to offer me a sweet. I might have done my own legs in here. He probably won't bother in future, scared that I might have a story to tell about Wrigley's Extra. Or Revels. Or Jelly Babies. In fact, come to think of it, I do have a story about Revels....
Thought for the day:
'She's got a smile that it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
Where everything
Was as fresh as the bright blue sky
Now and then when I see her face
She takes me away to that special place
And if I stared too long
I'd probably break down and cry
Sweet child o' mine'
Guns 'n' Roses
Tuesday, January 30
Religious violence
I have had a very important response to my last blog. Guidance from director him. He has written, as the authority whom shall be obeyed, that: 'As an extremely lapsed catholic I can confirm that your little prayer is not blasphemous as it is traditional to pray to Saints. And if anyone should suggest that Billie is not a Saint I will hold them down and box office can punch them.' Pretty conclusive if you ask me.
Went to see The Last Laugh tonight with secretary and box office. High priest cancelled as he had to work. Shame because it was fantastic. Both hilarious and serious at the same time. First night of the run, prior to moving up to London. Roger Lloyd Pack was brilliant. Perfectly cast in the role. He and Martin Freeman are going to have a great time in the West End.
Thought for the day: 'Two goldfish swimming in a bowl. One says to the other: "Do you know how to drive this thing?" .....(pause)..... Er, shouldn't that be tank? Goldfish in a tank. I think if you try that it will work better next time.' The Last Laugh
Went to see The Last Laugh tonight with secretary and box office. High priest cancelled as he had to work. Shame because it was fantastic. Both hilarious and serious at the same time. First night of the run, prior to moving up to London. Roger Lloyd Pack was brilliant. Perfectly cast in the role. He and Martin Freeman are going to have a great time in the West End.
Thought for the day: 'Two goldfish swimming in a bowl. One says to the other: "Do you know how to drive this thing?" .....(pause)..... Er, shouldn't that be tank? Goldfish in a tank. I think if you try that it will work better next time.' The Last Laugh
Just for luck with a little prayer
I thought I should put something up for everyone to pray to... Oh Billie, wilt thou be our Honorary President and pour your blessings upon us. Amen. Or something like that.
Actually, is that blasphemous? Maybe one of my dearly beloved lapsed catholic friends can let me know...
I really hope she says yes, for the Academy kids as much as anything. Well OK, for director him too. And box office.
Meanwhile, I have been humming Something Deep Inside to myself non-stop since Saturday night. Worrying.
Thought for the day:
'The first time that it crossed my mind, I kept on pushing it aside. It's such a strong emotion. Second time it's plain to see, This feeling rushing over me. Oh yeah..... And unknown to me, This chemistry is.... Something deep inside'
Something Deep Inside. Billie Piper. Walk Of Life
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