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The very last day of Bentwater Roads and I raised myself from my earthy grave that I had dug out for myself in the confederate tent (a make shift changing room for the girls constructed by Roger with an enormous confederate flag waving in the wind attached to the back flap). I cleared the picnic area of broken glass, half empty bottles and rubbish and then went to work cleaning the kitchen as the perculator began to brew it's dark, life giving, potion.
Max and Silki appeared soon af erwards, Silki finding the only thing I hadn't cleared from the picnic area - a beautiful green cashmere john lewis jumper - I felt irrationally under-appreciated by the gods for my efforts at cleaning.
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The countdown has commenced. Four more performances and then oblivion. I wake up with my ankle still giving me a bit of a twinge so there is no way I'm risking aggravating it with a run, sadly that means no final jog round the park with my landlord Ivan.
Jon has organized a party for after the show tonight. There is going to be an enormous feast from the group that have been doing the grill and then a lot of drinking, music, dancing and some speeches. So I slink into Tesco on my way down to the theatre and buy myself a lot of cider or more aptly put, too much cider.
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Up to the view of the sea and the sound of seagulls, we lay in bed for a long while then tidied up the hut and delivered the key back to the owners. Back to the beach we had cinnamon swirls and sangria for breakfast and built an enormous sand castle with a buttress, a keep and three outer walls encircling the main tower of an empty bottle of Sangria.
The rest of the day was a collection of train rides and I was very sad to leave Trina in London and carry on back to Ipswich. I arrive at 4pm and gathered some dinner/lunch from Tesco and headed to the Theatre. Penny told us that there had been a violent storm out at Bentwaters the night before and that the awning for the girls campervan had been torn to bits, the bar and grill tents had been buckled beyond repair, and that everything had been shaken up.
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I arrived at our boat in London at 6:30am - it was very disorientating as Trina had turned the boat around to face the other way while I'd been away.
I sneaked very quietly around the boat setting up a little obstacle course for her to overcome for her presents. Then two hours later I slid into bed to give her a hug, sing happy birthday and wake her up.
I had set up an adventure (dungeons and dragons style: Trina recently found out that I had played it as a child and wa giving me a lot of playful grief about it, she even finally said she'd be keen to try it) where she was an elven princess on her quest to kill a dragon, she started in the forest of Bed'oom, killed 6 mud monsters crossing the swamps of Ki'Chin (popping brown ballons as she did), unwrapping her gifts as she exited the swamp she had new bath towels and a promised hip bath for the boat (I still haven't found one the right size) all this was to clean the mud of and restore her health, she also had two down three shots of magic potion (orange and gin shots).
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Up and out of bed for a jog around the park with Ivan. I think I'll try and keep the exercise up after the show ends but it will be sad not having Ivan's company. I showered and packed my bags for heading to London after the evening show. I have a train ticket for 10:42pm from Ipswich, the show tends to finish around 10pm so I should be lucky, Penny called and told me she found friends, Alan and David, who will be watching the show tonight who are happy to taxi me to the station. Flitting around town I got lunch and organized the last few items I would need for Trina's surprise on her birthday.
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Lucky for some. I walked Trina to the train station early in the morning so she could get to her job in London on time. After what I thought was a postcard perfect farewell, bar the yob walking pass and yelling ‘get a room', I walked somewhat maudlin back to my digs and fell to bed, a little sad.
Only at midday did I finally raise myself from a deep, deep slumber; with odd dreams about being hung from the cross beams of an old cabin. I blogged, ate, showered, emailed my friend Matt about the details for us going to stay with him and Denise in their rented apartment in Barcelona (such a hard life) and emailed Dee Evans to thank her for coming to see our show and apologizing for not recognizing her in the audience afterwards and saying hello.
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Sweltering, that's the only word for it, sweltering. The tent was like a sauna with the thermometer turned up high. Parched and drunk on the heat I stumbled out of the tent where I'd had a rough night on the hard ground, feeling a mixture of achy tiredness and Ray Miers cockiness from doing such ‘manly' things.
Water, Tea and Coffee was drunk in abundance and then Silki suggested a swim at a nearby reservoir. With trunks on and still a little heat dazed we piled in Max's car h aded to this idealic spot, where a german bomb during world war one had created the ideal swimming hole.
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And I'm very excited at the thought Trina is getting ready to jump on a train and come see the show.
Ivan is sitting in the kitchen when I wake up and he wisely says it's too hot for a jog today. I naively go ahead and run twice around the park, almost loosing my entire body weight in sweat. A quick tidy of the bedroom where I'm staying and packing my ruck sack for an over night stay on location - I head into town and buy some rations for later on and get out some money just in case of an emergency.
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Dragged myself around the park one time as the heat was intense and my legs were still feeling tired from the day before.
We congregated at the Theatre around midday and headed out to the farm where Pam is staying. I was in the back of Max's car and in next to no time I was completely lost. We made our way up a dirt road, with a herd of young bulls eyeing us over as we sped by and they continued lazily chewing cud around the pond.
Pam had been very busy and there was a assive spread, we had a lovely dip of smoked mackerel, crème fresh and garlic to begin with and then for a main there was a big leafy green salad, two different cold seafood pastas and a bowl of hot linguini with green beans, broad beans and peas in a cream, cracked black pepper and blue cheese sauce, delicious. Pam had also made two large trays of her fail safe lunch dish, a chicken curry bake, with mayonnaise of all things, condensed cream, curry powder, mushrooms and a dash of lemon. For pudding there were decadently sweet strawberries with cream, followed by home made lemon ice cream, made the night before by Pam.
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A little late on the rise this morning meant Ivan (my landlord) had been already waiting for an hour to go for a jog together. We did our exercises in the secluded safety of the hedged front car park, worried that passers-by would find our stretches comical. We chatted as we ran and since we were mid conversation after the first lap of Christchurch Ivan kept running. When we parted company before my third lap Ivan had already run 6.6km (very impressive for a man of 77) I pushed on through to fin sh my 3rd lap and I estimate I had done 10km by the time I got back to my digs.
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Begun my day feeling somewhat at odds with life. When I woke up it was raining and Ivan and I had planned to go for a jog together. He advised it wasn't the best weather for running and I thought it might be a little rude to insist.
So I had a very quiet morning sitting in my room writing my blog, after Ivan had told me stories about his deep sea diving days in the Navy and his encounter with an enormous eel 90 feet below the surface. Rosie and I tried to arrange what day was best f r her and Ivan and Bunty (Richard and Nadia's Landlady who lives next door) to come and see the show. Sunday the 18th in the afternoon was the verdict.
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Did you know that today, July the 6th 2010 is the day that Marty McFly (read the lead character played by Michael J Fox in the 80's smash hit film Back to the Future) arrived in the future after hitting 88mph in his Delorean back in 1985 and sadly we don't even have flying cars or hoverboards to be pleased about!
That was an email I got from Trina today and my god did it make me feel old.
Anyways... can you guess how I started my day - yip, out of bed, into trainers and running gear and a round the park. Back to digs to write up the blog and search for something for my girlfriend's looming birthday on the internet.
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I woke late and called Trina after jogging about the park for half an hour. Then Pam called and invited me to join her a Zoran for a trip round Southwold. I threw my accumulated dirty washing into the machine, showered, blogged and hung the washing up, just finishing in time to jump in Pam's car and head away.
The weather was a lot cooler and the wind was somewhat stronger than the last few days but we had a pleasant walk and chat as we strolled up and down the pier and then along t e beach-front. We headed towards town asking for a place Peter had recommended called The Arches, when after asking the umpteenth local for directions to The Arches we got the umpteenth blank faced response, I thought it time to call Peter in case I had misheard or remembered incorrectly. Peter had not mentioned the name of the old coach Inn because he couldn't remember it himself and my memory had made up the name Arches because he had mentioned there was an Arch.
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It has been a very long week, we've run the show 10 times in the space of 7 days, the heat and mugginess has been intense all week and opening night celebrations etc have lengthened the week that little bit more.
I was up nice and early, 8am, for a run around the park. Then I sat down to write the blog - I headed into town to do a little shopping, including a sports top to stop getting my own clothes and the costumes so sweaty between the runs as we ran about, some headphones to lis en to music on our way into Bentwaters on the bus.
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This is when things get a little more like work for us - not too much like work but a little. During the weekend when most people will be having a bbq, enjoying the park etc etc we'll be doing four performances of the show. The weather gods have decided to make this a challenge task as well by adding the extra factor of it being the hottest, muggiest weekend I can remember to date for this year and I'd venture to say the last four years (though then I fear treading into an ancient mariner style arrative ‘it were the day the sun sizzled your skin to leather and the air swam round your knees' - or something like that).
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I (not surprisingly) woke too late to share in a morning jog with my 77 year old landlord Ivan Hamilton. He kindly left me asleep to recover from the night's celebrations. When I did finally rise it was already near midday and a swelteringly hot day at that. Rather foolishly I braved the midday sun (I must be a mad dog, since I'm sadly not English) with a long jog through the park to sweat ‘it' all out.
Then some quick finger taping for yesterdays blog and a trip into town for supplies and to recover my bike. Dementia seems to be creeping up on me, as I (very unusually for me) am forgetting my bag in all sorts of strange places. I found it the Sir John Mills Theatre then headed into town to buy a rugby ball - well there are about thirty of us between cast, crew and chorus.
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The big day has arrived and in typical theatrical fashion we were all scribbling away madly in the morning writing good luck cards (actors are very superstitious as well as supportive - the cards never actually say good luck but say 'break a leg').
I headed into town and order a full English breakfast and sat down with my freshly purchased cards to start writing well wishes. With this cast and crew it was an easy task to find lovely things to say about working with them, highlights f their performance and utter belief that they will 'wow the audience'.
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The penultimate day of rehearsals and I head off for another run in the morning around Christchurch Park with my landlord Ivan, as always he's in high spirits and is telling stories of his youth (he's now 77) and random interesting facts and advice spill from him like a fountain and just like a fountain its all very refreshing.
I headed into town to play fooseball again with Mark and Caitlin - Mark wondering what the staff at ShakeAway must be saying ‘what do they do all day? hey're here playing fooseball everyday'...
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Opening night looms ever closer. Today we had an afternoon start so the morning was a mixture of going over the script, jogging through Christchurch Park, playing fooseball at ShakeAway in the middle of Ipswich and going for a nice swim at Crown Pools.
At 2:30 in the afternoon we arrived back at the Hush House and the technical crew and Alan, Silki and Ivan were already there busy working away at getting the technical details (sound and lighting cues/changes) for Act One in place.
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The first of our tech days, at 10am we were all gathered at the Theatre helping to fill the Eastern Angles van with costumes and the large Ice Cream freezer. Volunteers rewarded in a free Ice Cream (breakfast of kings!).
Up into the van and off to Bentwaters Airbase.
Tech days are notoriously slow and gruelling, as all the specific of making the technical side of the show faultless are slowly set in place and marked down for future runs. Our technical crew have been doi g an amazing job. They set up the live video feedback and integrated the starry night background on to the projected image.
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Morning papers and a full English Breakfast with extra OJ at the Grey Hound to start the day off. Then a quiet bit of work on my script in the park, looking to see if I've missed any tricks or have been saying lines incorrectly, looking for extra changes and anything to add to the different layers of the character.
Then the England-Germany game, less said the better.
Followed by more park in the beautiful sunshine, reading and finally watching Mexico vs Argentina and re iring to watch Spartacus as part of research for upcoming audition. Before falling off to sleep I read the Bentwater Roads script through again.
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Ivan, my 77 year old landlord, not our director, knocked on my door at 9am and we headed off to Christchurch Park for a jog. Ivan kept me chuckling constantly on my way round the park. I did an extra circuit as he headed back to the house.
Back in the rehearsal room at the Social Club Nadia and Peter were working hard to fit Peter into the several Mal and Charlie scenes. I got a call for an audition for a TV Series in America called Spartacus and tried to arrange an audition around ur very busy rehearsal schedule for the upcoming week. Friday morning looks like a potential goer, if not it will have to be sent in by tape.
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Petite Penny with her seat pushed as far forward as it can go - and some more - arrived at our doorstep in the enormous Eastern Angles van at 9:30am. Caitlin had stopped off and got Bacon Sandwiches for all aboard. We pulled back up to the Hush House and unloaded ourselves from the van. I had cheekily brought my cricket bat and ball, hoping for a quick game between the two acts.
We crept into the dark from the light and started to run the show as Fiona (lighting designer) adjusted l ghts and chose settings for each of our scenes. The run speed along through the first act thanks to the work we had done the night before and the only thing that I found strange was trying to adjust to the acoustic of this very unique space. Normally when you enter a performance space after rehearsing somewhere else, you become very aware of the different way your voice is rebounding of the surfaces of the space and feeding back to you how loud you need to be to be heard throughout the space. At the Hush House there is no feedback, you hear your voice as it leaves but miraculously you never get any sound bouncing back, a little spooky and eerie compared to the familiar sound of your voice rebounding back at you.
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Today Peter (our replacement Tony) and Nadia went through the Mal and Charlie scenes until it was time for a costume parade in front of the designer Keith and our director Ivan. We came out in reverse chronological order of the timelines. The contemporary costumes fitted the characters perfectly, Nadia was excited by her dual length combat trousers and Mark will be wearing a brilliantly Jez-esque T- Shirt with the words ‘Sorry Girls, I only date Models" written on the front. I squeezed int my flight kit as the pilot and as Trina (my girlfriend) had requested I sent her a photo via my mobile.
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The thought on everyone's mind was ‘who will get to see England's last group game?'. After a successful run of the entire play, the first run of the show in its entirety, Ivan read out the list for the afternoon rehearsals. Dan and I were elated to find we weren't on the list and could watch the match while Mark was visibly distraught. I think we all threw ourselves into the morning run of the play with gusto hoping we'd be so impressive we'd all get the afternoon off.
P acticality always needs to kept in mind and we are quickly creeping up on our technical week (where all the lights, sound, set, costumes and props are worked into the play and the current blocking is rejigged to fit the larger space) this means its our last chance for final touch ups on the acting itself.
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A very sad start to today's rehearsals. We had all shifted back to the Theatre for rehearsals and Ivan gathered us around to give Tony the floor for a moment. Tony took a step forward and in a very dignified manner told us that he was having to leave the company through ill-health. Everyone was sad to see Tony go and we felt his absence dearly from the moment he left the rehearsal room. Ivan has called on another actor, Peter Sowerbutts, to come and replace Tony for the roles of Mal and Th Commander. Peter will be joining us on Thursday. With a subdued atmosphere we ventured on with rehearsals in the smaller Theatre space.
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There's a well used saying in the theatre and probably unbeknownst to me, in many other professions. Monday is when people have dropped the momentum of a project over the weekend and seem to be four steps behind where they left off last Friday. I'm glad to say that it was nowhere to be seen this Monday and we threw ourselves into another run of the final quarter, polished up some scenes that weren't hitting the mark and of then all took a deep breath - some larger than others, as I struggled to ome to terms with blowing the newly acquired Ram's Horn for the massive pagan ceremonies - then dived into running the entire final HALF of the play. Besides a lot of red faced flatulent sounding horn blowing on my behalf, we glided through it. Ivan seemed very pleased and notes were given out in a small dose with lots of positive feedback. The overall shape and rhythm and pace of the piece is starting to become evident and once again I finish the days rehearsals with a warm glow in my artistic belly.
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The Weekend - Trina and I crammed in as much of Ipswich as we could, Clay Pigeon Shooting at the Lodge, a planned siege of Orford Castle, a wander through Snape Maltings with a concert soundtracking our meanderings. Lunch at The May Bush, Rally Karting at Beacon Rally Karts (my personal highlight). Canoeing at Alton Waters, lunch at Isaac's near the Ipswich Marina following the football and finally a quiet night at the cinema. Great 30th birthday weekend enjoyed in the Suffolk surroundings.
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We have now rehearsed for two weeks and today we will be running the final quarter of the play. And today just happens to be the 30th year I've been on the planet. My girlfriend Trina had travelled up the night before to surprise me. I'd rented a hire car and we headed off at 3.30am to catch the sunrise at Aldebrugh, have a picnic breakfast on the beach and send wishes out into the ocean on paper boats.
Trina had organised an obstacle course around my room with strange fruits to dev ur in set amounts of time and aptly aged tasks such as filling out a crossword puzzle and donning a moustache, glasses, formal tie and talc powered grey hair before arriving at my presents. Yes, we're both still very childish and enjoy silly games as much as we did when we were 5. "Who wants to grow up?"
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Bleary-eyed I stumbled into rehearsals for another day of extreme focus and pulling the scenes together to rehearse an entire quarter of the play. This morning was the third quarter and we rehearsed the transitions until we were certain how everything fitted together.
Then with the heartbeat pacing we leapt into the third quarter of the play, each on of the four storylines thickening and unravelling and Charlie (the main character) beginning to unravel with them. Tony Ramsay (writer has made a wonderful job of keeping the audience guessing and the play has a plethora of twists and turn and dramatic unveilings... I really better bite my tongue or tape my digits before I spill the lot... in short I think the audience will be on the edge of their seats.
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A bit of an on and off day of rehearsals for me today. In mid-morning for a run of the medieval scene, slotting in Jules as Sally's son and then I dashed off to the osteopath to try and correct my dodgy neck (broke it in an accident 7 years a go and it still gives me a lot of grief, though I try to hide it normally as best I can but after a weekend of rolling about in a park it was in desperate need of attention). In the afternoon I gave a go to the grilling scene. Basically my Pilot gets his he d bitten off by his Commander after I've requested to be let out of the airforce. Whoops... should be careful not to give too much of the plot away... a little anxious I stayed awake the entire evening glued to my copy of The Pillars of the Earth, devouring the medieval background and Tom the stonemason's characteristics and journey.
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We started the day with a good chuckle, running around the stage in panicked faux American accents pretending to be USAF airmen in search of signs of the UFO that landed in Randlesham Forest. We were all having a great giggle and Dan was doing his brilliant bit of acting.
Then we got focused and ran the second quarter of the show. It went really well for our first time through it and everything feels like it's coming together nicely. After the run we touched up a few sce es before having an afternoon breather we all met together at the social club with the community chorus at about 8pm and worked our way through the transitions of the second quarter of the show before giving it a run with everyone involved, a great result and once again it was an added level having the entire cast there with the chorus feeding into the show.
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Not so certain what others got up to this weekend. Silki (our stage manager) went to an air show at the Bentwaters Air Base which I was livered to find I had missed out on, especially since I'm playing a pilot and had resigned myself to watching Top Gun as my weekend research. The Community Chorus of Britons had a successful picnic at Randelsham Forest and a few hardy souls wandered into the forest to spot UFOs.
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In the morning we were all in and getting ready to run the first quarter of the play. We smoothed out transition moments between each of the separate scenes we had been rehearsing. These transitions pieces are going to lift the piece to a whole new level and weave the separate timelines together. They are also going to be the trickiest part to choreograph but I think we all have great faith in Ivan's ability and his vision.
There's always a bit of a buzz before the first books-dow run of any section of a play and this was added to by the fact we hadn't all been in the rehearsal room together for over a week. I thought it all crackled as we went through it, we are only at the end of week two of rehearsals but it really set up the story in an inviting way.
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Not called in for rehearsals at all, so launched myself straight into line learning. After that I delved deep into my book The Pillars of the Earth - the main character Tom was working on restoring a burnt Cathedral. In the evening we had a group outing to see Mercury Colchester's production of King David, a modernized drama of the downfall of David (as in David and Goliath). It was great fun heading out as a large group and we all had a lot to say about the show on our way back home. Silki, Ton and I crept into the Greyhound at 11:01 and the landlord graciously let us order a round. Tony started to entertain us with stories of veteran actors who had froze (forgotten their lines) on stage and one in particular actor who had run off stage after freezing only to make a quick exit through the bathroom window, never to return. Hmm... retired to bed, taking a quick and reassuring look at lines before nodding off.
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Another quiet day for me. I wasn't due in for rehearsals until the afternoon so I headed back into town after swimming a mile and I bought myself a copy of The Pillars of the Earth - a highly recommended novel whose main character is a Stonemason travelling through Medieval England trying to scrape a living. It's been wonderful reading and a cheeky way of researching for my character. As well as that I snuck into Ipswich Museum and spent an hour or two in the early Anglo-Saxon section getting feel for Post Roman - Pre Renaissance England.
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Tuesday 8th June - During the morning more of the main storyline of the play was rehearsed and then in the evening there was a change to the structure of rehearsals as we got to rehearse with the community chorus of Britons. After a jovial getting to know you game.
Alan Caig Wilson (Assistant Director) prepped us for the epic sacrifice scene by mapping out the drum beats, chants that would create the atmosphere for this pivotal scene. We also rehearsed a canon effect Latin Hym but there was much confusion as we all tried to master the complex tune. We retired for tea and I cornered Noel from the community chorus to teach me the drumming technique for a Bodhran (Irish Drum) but somehow sadly I think I lack the dexterity in my wrist. Post-tea to the crash and beating of drums and Noel's rhythmic lead on the Bodhran and tribal chanting of the chorus we went through the epic pagan ceremony scene. I needn't have asked about the Bodhran as I'll be testing my lung capacity blowing on a ram's horn, wicked! It's fantastic to have the added energy and presence of the chorus and to be in the rehearsal room all together after the isolation of rehearsing the separate storylines, so as I finish typing this - the first and probably lengthiest of my blogs - I'm filled with a quiet confidence and bubbling excitement that this show is going to be both something spectacular and epic as well as intimate and engaging.
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Monday 7th of June- Rehearsals continued with all the Pagan scenes being put on their feet for the first time. Mark was somewhat exhausted from his enormous effort in the triathlon and when I met Silki on my way to rehearsals Tuesday she told me Sally and Caitlin had done some great work on the Pagan mother and daughter scenes.
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Friday 4th June - More contemporary scenes rehearsed in the morning and the medieval scenes in the afternoon. At the end of the day most of the cast jumped on trains back to their respective homes.
Mark Knightly heading off to run a triathlon, Nadia off for a weekend in Paris and myself heading back to Surrey Quays in London to help my girlfriend work on repairs to our/her boat/home.
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Thursday 3rd June - For the first week and a half we've split the play into it's four different timelines to help structure the rehearsals. This meant that I was only in during the coldwar and medieval scenes. Also it means that as of yet I haven't seen any of the contemporary scenes or the pagan ones. So in the morning while Mark, Dan, Nadia and Pam busily got the opening scenes of the play and the beginning of the main/contemporary storyline up on it's feet I went and shaved my bohemian scr ggliness into something more resembling a USAF officer's regulation hair cut. Then in the afternoon Tony, Richard and I stumbled through the cold war scenes with Ivan tightening up the scene, pointing us in the right direction (both metaphorically and literally) and giving the scenes some shape and dynamic.
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Wednesday 2nd June - The detailed dissection of this wonderfully complex piece of script kept us going until midday.
During lunch we wedged in measurements with the costume designer Cherilyn Leeson. Then we all piled into the Eastern Angles van and headed out to the Hush House at Bentwaters Airbase. We were all amazed by the sound studio acoustics - the Hush House is a large steel hanger designed for testing Jet Engines - bizzarely this large metal shell has no echo at all a d the long tunnel at the back of the building constructed as an exhaust pipe for the jet engines sends your voice back into the hanger making it sound like your standing behind the audience. Jon was capturing our bemused looks as we were all blown away by the immensity of the space. Ivan and the team have really come up with more than just a play, this is going to be Event, capital E intended. With promenade parts to the perfomance, food stands and a bar and a chorus of ancient Britons (comprised of community members) mysteriously echoing the main action and linking the four separate stories together. It's all very exciting really.
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Tuesday 1st June at 10am we amassed in an aptly ritualistic circle of chairs on the stage of Eastern Angles Theatre where we met the remainder of the cast including the sparkly eyed and ever ready with a joke Tony Scannell (Playing Mal, Carter and The Commander), who I still remember with adoration from watching The Bill with my grandparents every week night of my youth, and the numerous company members that make up Eastern Angles, including the writer, designers, director and associate direct r, stage managers, marketing officers and many more... Ivan Cutting the Artistic director of Eastern Angles and director of Bentwater Roads gave a quick introductory speech outlining the company's long held desire to use the Hush House at the old Airbase at Bentwater Roads for a site-specific piece of Theatre.
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Monday 31st May and Caitlin and I found our way to The Greyhound Pub on Henley Road for a pre-rehearsal meet and greet where Jon Tavener (Eastern Angles' Theatre Outreach Officer and self proclaimed man of many more hats and unmentioned job titles) quickly spotted us stray actors wandering aimlessly around the pub and convivially herded us together and got us talking, laughing and feeling at home.
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The Long Blog Home
Like Old Mother and Dog Boy on their journey to Emblisi, on our travels around East Anglia we have also met many diverse and interesting people. We have experienced the kindness of strangers - locals often provide us with home-made cake and tea and help us sweep up at the end of the show (hint!), we have won gifts in raffles, (well, everybody but me), restaurants have stayed open for us (it took a lot of persuasion and we ate it in the Travelodge recep ion), local publicans have offered us drinks on-the-house, generating lively debates on the demise of the British Pub and Tiger Woods (OK, just one publican and it was more of an impassioned argument.)
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We have now performed the The Long Way Home in churches, village halls, theatres, studios, town halls, arts centres, and schools. This means we not only have to be highly skilled in adapting to new spaces as actors but also as stage technicians as part of our job is to build the set. The benefit of this detailed preparation in each new location, is that it prevents us from high-risk accidents. Of course we haven't had any accidents, no not once! (I did not hang that light upside down and Theo did not walk into that pole, Ivan.) In fact, since I'm now a trained techy professional myself, I will generously offer you some free, no-purchase-necessary advice as to how to be able to achieve such high standards.
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We have all had our own journey in these rehearsal weeks and every day has been different. Some days you leave exhausted but uplifted, others you leave reflecting on how much work there is still left to do. During phone conversations with friends I find myself talking in a loud voice using strange words that only my characters would use and I dream about flying houses, high-lighted lines, diagrams and scribbles on scripts. Nothing to worry about at all!
But, what t is does mean, is, that it is that time - the start of the run is approaching and I am proud of what we have achieved and how we have brought to life such a lovely story. I only hope now that we will leave the audiences a little bit changed by our show, it's up to them now.
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From dog to Dog Boy
Theo seems to have got some tips for his Dog-Boy character from my excellent, detailed description of Badge. In fact I am quite astonished by his increasing ability to dribble, wag his tail, bark, bite, present puppy-dog eyes and pee in inappropriate places. Some of these pedigree skills he didn't even need to work on. What talent!
Susan as Old Mother is becoming remarkably good at falling asleep in uncomfortable places and having t at wise sparkle in her eyes. She always seems to know what's going to happen next and she's got a knack for comedy too - sometimes her skirt slowly drops to the floor, mid-speech. How does she do that?
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Man’s Best Friend
They say a dog is man’s best friend, so, being a stranger in a new place, I was delighted to make the acquaintance of Badger the dog in my new residence. Although, Badger doesn’t see very well, at all, and doesn’t move very much, at all, so my first cooking venture in his company may have caused some offence to the poor creature.
In search of cooking tools in cupboards, Badge was sort of, well – in the way. Every cupboard I pened, he stood in front of and it became a gentle obstacle course of a bump, prod, push, shovel and budge routine around the kitchen. When at last the show was over, bows taken and curtains closed and I, exhausted, finally settled down to take a bite of my food, Badger came back with a barking encore and wouldn’t quieten. I feared our friendship was over and I would be spending the next 5 months sleeping on Eastern Angles’ stage floor. BUT, just as my fear became farewell and I, tearfully turned to pack my bags, Badge all of a sudden; galloped up behind me, (surely to mend my broken heart), but due to his poor vision, as I stopped, he crashed in to my ankles and collapsed, knocked-out-in-to-a-heap-on-my -feet and wouldn’t wake up, and wouldn’t move and wouldn’t budge SIGH and, well…the evening performance began…
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Brrr!!
The coldest snap in British theatre since ‘Romans In Britain On Ice' and we're all gallantly struggling through frost and snow into the Sir John Mills, adopting the very same ‘Dunkirk spirit' the Germans did as they advanced on the French coast in 1940; we must get there at all costs, take no prisoners, strafe, stab, kill. Similarly we actors must also be strong in the face of impending unemployment as 2010 is upon us with a vengeance and the literal and met phorical winds carry blizzards of drifting unhappiness and economic dearth (only if you‘re a cynical type - see below).
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Breaktimes and lunchtimes are fraught with diplomatic niceties in the first few days of any rehearsal period. And of course one wishes to present oneself with professionalism and courtesy! One tiptoes along pleasant conversational by-ways, making sure one does not say anything rude about any director, actor, production, or indeed place because like as not, just as you are saying something rude about Kings Lynn, someone, in the case of these rehearsals, poor Sophie, will pip up to say, 'I come from Kings Lynn, it is a place of ravishing beauty'. I then have to splutter a bit and say, 'I meant Kings Lynn in New Mexico'. 'I didn't think there was a King's Lynn in New Mexico'. 'There isn't. Sorry. I think bits of Kings Lynn are okay. I'm sorry. Some of my nicest chums hail from there'. All very tricky.
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The Lily of Lacuna or An Actor Pops One In.
The days may grow shorter and colder but new jokes are busting out all over, as if Spring had sprung betimes down Funnington Avenue. But how can this be? The play is writ: it is untouchable, the hallowed text shall not be interfered with, and each night the High Priest, Ivan, locks it away in the Holy of Holies, the Eastern Angles office safe.But this dear reader is not so, for by both night and day the Tinker Monkeys and Gagsm ths will whip it out, dance upon it, kick it around in the dirt and ADD STUFF. ‘The Lily of Lacuna' is at it again.
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Rehearsal Week 2.
When it comes to doing Austen you're decidedly in Received Pronunciation Land, and that you might think would be right up my proverbial cul-de-sac, but apparently you've then got to differentiate between them. Peppering the Christmas shows with dubious characters like authentic Arab street traders with Julian is always a lot more pleasant in that you egg each other on to more and more ridiculous excesses; I'm sure there is probably still a fatwa out on at lea t one of us, but with Austen you have to be a bit more held, using muscles to hold up your spine. Posture, Timothy! Also with the Austen, you get the inevitable cry of 'Look at the BBC Boxed Set' hand crafted by Andrew Davies out of lace and Anna Maxwell-House-Martin, and filmed somewhere in Dorset through a catering tub of Vaseline. 'Couldn't you be a bit more like him?'; the subtext to this question is 'Copy him' and is always accompanied by the statement, 'But I don't want you to copy him'. I am similar to Beryl Reid only in this respect; she said start with the shoes and work up. I start with the shoes and although I try to work upwards, I've never been exactly sure what she means, but am confident I will at least have shoes in this performance and they will shine...
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Week 1 of rehearsals.
I arrive at the first day of rehearsals with that typical feeling, a mix of excitement, nerves and that all too familiar sinking feeling created by a vivid imagination and professional paranoia; I walk in the room the director takes one look at me before his face drops and he makes a quick aside "We sent the letter to the wrong actress, I meant to cast the other girl!" Luckily for me this was not the case.
I was the only one out of the four of us w o had been in a different callback group so I really was the newbie. This meant that the first read through that we did together was really interesting for me as I had no idea of their takes on their characters and vice versa. Initial amusement at ourselves was ever present as we embraced the fact that for the next eight weeks we would live most of our time being 14, 12, 10 and 8 years old collectively.
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Week 1
Choosing digs is a daunting task. You're presented with a list of 30 or so names and addresses and minimal descriptions - double room, ensuite, own TV does not really give you much indication of what you're in for. There is no way of telling if your landlady is going to be a psycho or a nudist or a lesbian. So when I turned up at my Ipswich dwelling I was prepared for anything.
Turns out, my abode for the next 2 months, is an actor's dream! A beautiful and large n-suite room in a beautiful and large house, and a landlady who's hardly there. Perfect.
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WEEK ONE - LEARNING THE ROPES
As soon as I read the script I knew that we were going to have to get to grips with a lot of nautical terminology. In my group recall we had come unstuck on the pronunciation of the word ‘halyard' - without even contemplating what it might mean. I'd read a bit of nautical fiction when I was younger - Joseph Conrad, C.S. Forrester, Patrick O'Brien - and had done some basic sailing at school, so in a way I think I had something of a head start. But was still pretty apprehensive at the prospect of delivering lines such as ‘It's only the anchor chain rubbing against the bobstay as she swings round with the ebb'.
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Week 1
And so, on Monday 2nd June 2008, it began. A journey that would change the lives of all involved. A rollercoaster ride of emotion, line-learning, actioning and jib sheet hauling... The 'We Didn't Mean To Go To Sea' rehearsals.
We started the week with company introductions, which is always slightly overwhelming (so many names to remember!), followed by a read-through of the play. After auditioning months before and having the script resting in my flat for weeks, t was great to finally hear the play aloud. The writer, Nick, was also there on the first day and we spent the afternoon asking him questions about the script, mainly questions about the technical, sailing references in the piece. He patiently gave us a crash course on wind, tide and various sailing terms which, to someone who has never even been on a boat before, was quite headache inducing!
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There are five of us in the Mediterranean Mercedes van. Also sandwiches, Real McCoy crisps and the touring set from hell. There's not much you can't tell us now about Allen keys or Ref 22s, scaff clamps or gobos, Green King or backache. Nick Murray Brown. He's the tall one, looks like Oscar Wilde, playing conservationist Matt. Wields a Manfrotto lighting tower with the expertise of a caber-tosser at the Galashiels Games. Quiet. Makes his own bread.
Kate Romney. Strong, red-headed, e -Rose Bruford. She played the harridan Nurse Ratchett there in a student production of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Used to be an SRN herself, once upon a life. Plays single mum Christine. Since Paul left all those years ago there's been no-one else in Chris's bedroom.
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