For the rest of the day we were running behind schedule; so much, in fact that I was forced to ditch one of our locations. In the rush, I felt we weren't really finessing shots; merely firing them off one by one, whilst trying to prevent ourselves from slipping further behind.
That situation changed at Tyne Mouth, where the choir filled the Market with wonderful, optimistic singing, and I felt like a proud father, especially when I saw them all busily swapping numbers and swearing never to lose touch with one another afterwards. That's exactly what this kind of project should be about; new friendships and new opportunities. From that moment on, the day simply flew by in a happy whirl.
There were disco-dancing ferrets, samba-dancing drag queens, jugglers, drummers and long, spooky tunnels filled with smoke and stalactites. Wallsend Station turned into a salsa club. You haven't lived until you've watched a bloke dressed like Carman Miranda being escorted across a metro track by Nexus staff!
I haven't drunk enough water today and my feet hurt, but we're definitely on the way towards something very special.
I’m slightly ashamed to say, however, that I seem to have spurned (I mean spawned - many thanks to Mr Non Hodgkin!) something of a monster in the shape of a song that seems to be relentlessly catchy. I even heard a grip whistling the chorus to himself as he sailed up an escalator. I'm not sure he realised what he was doing!
|Our Disco-Dancing Ferret|
And so to bed...