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!)
Monday, February 19
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.
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