We've been in Birmingham all day today, auditioning for this summer's three NYMT shows. It felt a little like a proper homecoming for me. The train took us up through Northampton, Long Buckby, Rugby and Coventry - all places I know like the back of my hand - and I got really quite emotional when talking to the kids beforehand. I told them all the story of finding my Great Great Uncle William's grave within the Leeds Pals' cemetery at Serre, explained that he'd been part of the Warwickshire Regiment, and that I'd based a character in Brass called Wilfred on him. It's silly, really, but I wanted Wilfred to survive the war in Brass and return to Leeds, if for no other reason than to somehow address the anger I feel for his death... And the death of all the Pals.
I have written Wilfred as a Coventrian, but feel he may now have to be re-written as a Brummie - or, for that matter, from somewhere else entirely - as not a single kid walked through the door from Coventry, and only a few came from Warwickshire, and they were all girls. Bitterly disappointing.
I saw some remarkable singers however. I think I may have found my Tom and Lizzie today, to add to the Alf I found in Manchester, the Eliza in Bristol and all manner of Tots, Tats and Tittys in Leeds. And, yes, I have written a character called Titty, although it got me into all sorts of problems on the first day of auditions when I scrawled the word "Titty" on a 16 year-old girl's audition notes!
We also saw some brilliant musicians, including a young chap who played the cornet and trumpet with brilliant virtuosity, and a wonderful euphonium player.
The train journey back from Birmingham seemed to take no time at all and in all honesty, we couldn't wait to get out of New Street train station, which is in mega-disarray right now. In fact, the whole area between the station and the music college left a little to be desired. We ended up in some kind of concrete walkway called Paradise Walk, which, unlike its name, was shockingly grotty. There had obviously once been a water feature there, which was now just a stagnant pool of water. Birmingham surely deserves better. It's Britain's second city, for God's sake and I'm sick of the Midlands in this country being over-looked. I sincerely hope the disarray at the station, with its curious broken escalators leading nowhere, is a product of planned improvements, rather than a right royal Midlands shambles!
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