I reckon I've gone a bit cross-eyed today after doing a twelve-hour solid stint on Brass. After all that work, I feel no nearer to completion than I did at the start of the day, and aside from a bad back, I've frighteningly little to show for sitting at a computer for all that time. One day I'll sit down and discover there's nothing left to do. At that point I will weep for joy. At the moment, however, because I don't really dare look ahead to try and work out how much more work there is to do, my philosophy is simply to work as hard as I can as often as is possible. One day, though. One day all this will be done!
The only other thing I've achieved today was taking a set of pictures of Nathan's newest sock design. We did it in the garden against dirty brick walls, rusty padlocks and metal fences. It all looked rather urban and New York-like. I'm not sure the socks, which are dark green and somewhat organic in appearance, were particularly enhanced by the gritty setting, but the pictures look very cool and I'm pleased to have achieved at least something of use today.
We had a Chinese for a late-night tea whilst catching up on the X Factor from this weekend. I'm told by The Guardian that the show is haemorrhaging viewers and, as the series progresses, it's beginning to feel incredibly tired despite the new judges and the fact that they've obviously combed the country to find some genuinely talented acts. But if anyone says "I didn't like it... I loved it" "your harmonies were on point" or "the best thing about you is that you don't know how good you are" again, I might be tempted to turn the bloody nonsense off.
There were two gospel choirs on Saturday's show who sang, in my view, incredibly badly, but, of course, they were told they sang with "soul" and perfect vocals, which is what everyone has to say when black people sing gospel. I find it incredibly frustrating because it genuinely devalues the brilliant gospel singers and choirs out there. I'm also not sure why a group of panelists, most of whom couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, are allowed to comment on vocal ability. Can anyone tell me what Nick Grimmy-thingy is bringing to the table? He seems to be a personality vacuum with no discernible musical skills. He just smiles and pouts. I don't really know why I'm giving any of this much thought. The show's a pile of pants, but we can all watch it whilst doing a million other things, so it's useful background material and as such, we'll all miss it when it's gone.
Sunday, 13 September 2015
Oliver, Jack, Flammie and Rosie
We've been in Malmesbury in Wiltshire this evening, which is a place that neither of us had hitherto visited. It's a stunningly beautiful Cotswolds town, so I'm wondering quite how it's managed to slip so spectacularly underneath my radar. I assume it's largely because I never allow myself to get further than Avebury when I'm in these parts, which is the same reason why Nathan and I have only just made it to California: Up until recently neither of us felt comfortable pole-vaulting over New York!
We were in Malmesbury to watch Rosie and Jack from Brass performing an evening of songs to help raise funds to get Rosie to drama school. She's lucky (and by lucky I mean talented) enough to have been selected as one of ten students on the prestigious MA musical theatre course at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama and takes up her place next week. She performed a wonderful programme of songs, all of which were a proper treat to listen to. I was particularly touched to hear her singing Shone With the Sun from Brass, but everything she did sounded glorious. She has the most mellifluous voice, one which I'll never grow tired of hearing. I championed her from the moment I saw her in the first day of auditions for Brass, and knew the moment I saw her that she would be in the show. Check out my blog from January 4th, 2014. Bristol auditions, "one girl in particular could easily be right for the pivotal role of Eliza." That girl was Rosie. Anyway, she looked gloriously statuesque this evening in a glamorous blue frock and I was SO proud of her.
I was also proud of Jack, who sang a wonderfully moving version of Anthem from Chess. It's been a while since I last heard that song and I always forget quite how special it is.
The concert took place in Malmesbury Abbey, where Rosie's father happens to be the dean or vicar or verger or canon or whatever they call the head honcho at these kind of institutions. It's a stunning building with one of the most impressive Norman arches I've ever seen. More than that, the place is imbued with a wonderfully warm, inclusive atmosphere. Rosie's Dad wants it to be a community space, and once a year, even allows skateboarders to come in to do competitions! It's the first church I've been to in ages where I've felt I wouldn't necessarily burst into flames upon entering!
I'm so pleased we made the effort to come...
As it happened we were in the area anyway on account of having been in Newbury this afternoon to see the production of Oliver at the charming Water Mill theatre, which, for some reason, is teeming with rather cute ducklings at the moment. (The theatre grounds, that is, not the show itself!) Is September not a somewhat quirky time of year for ducks to spawn? Was I witnessing second litters? I worry about their chances of survival if there's an early winter.
The show, which featured (as you might expect at the Water Mill) a cast of actor musicians, was beautifully staged and very well performed, with some lovely little touches which included the act two opener, Oom Pah Pah, actually being performed in the theatre's garden before the audience were ushered back into the auditorium. I'm never wholly convinced by actor-musician shows. I think they can be a little distracting both aurally and visually. The 'cellists, for example, for some reason, are always expected to stand up to play, which always compromises the sound they make, and forces me to sit and stare at them to work out if they're playing with harnesses or whether they've had to buy especially long spikes. I also wonder whether a cast of actor musicians are ever quite good enough in any of the disciplines that are expected of them. There's always a compromise. It's hard enough to find a triple threat, but a quadruple threat, including one that plays music to the standard needed for a West End show, is surely almost impossible to find?
It was in Newbury that we heard the news that Jeremy Corbyn has been overwhelmingly voted in as the new Labour leader. I'm very happy with the result. I'm not sure he's got a wide-enough appeal to be the next prime minister, but apart from the nonsense he talks about women only carriages, I agree with everything he says, and feel it's about time that we sent a message to politicians telling them that no one's interested in boring, squeaky clean, bland Barbie Dolls who do as they're told and say only what's diplomatically required to remain in power. Now that there's a proper Left Wing party, I can get interested in politics again.
As we drove home tonight, we stopped off at a garage on a country road somewhere near the M4. As I got to the counter to pay, an RAC van pulled into the garage. "Thank God they're here" said the man who was serving, "that poor car's been stuck at the petrol pump ever since the bloke filled it up with the wrong kind of petrol." Turns out it was a young couple, and they'd been there for three whole hours. Three hours! The woman of the couple was wrapped in a blanket on the front seat, weeping. What a way to ruin a Saturday night. I'm getting tearful just thinking about it...
At a second services stop on the M4, we bumped into Julie's best mate, Flammy and her Mum, queuing for a late night toasted sandwich in the Costa Coffee. It was a lovely surprise and we had a quick catch up chat, which, as always with Flammy, involved a lot of laughter.
So all in all it's been a great day, In fact I wish all day offs could be more like this one!
We were in Malmesbury to watch Rosie and Jack from Brass performing an evening of songs to help raise funds to get Rosie to drama school. She's lucky (and by lucky I mean talented) enough to have been selected as one of ten students on the prestigious MA musical theatre course at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama and takes up her place next week. She performed a wonderful programme of songs, all of which were a proper treat to listen to. I was particularly touched to hear her singing Shone With the Sun from Brass, but everything she did sounded glorious. She has the most mellifluous voice, one which I'll never grow tired of hearing. I championed her from the moment I saw her in the first day of auditions for Brass, and knew the moment I saw her that she would be in the show. Check out my blog from January 4th, 2014. Bristol auditions, "one girl in particular could easily be right for the pivotal role of Eliza." That girl was Rosie. Anyway, she looked gloriously statuesque this evening in a glamorous blue frock and I was SO proud of her.
I was also proud of Jack, who sang a wonderfully moving version of Anthem from Chess. It's been a while since I last heard that song and I always forget quite how special it is.
The concert took place in Malmesbury Abbey, where Rosie's father happens to be the dean or vicar or verger or canon or whatever they call the head honcho at these kind of institutions. It's a stunning building with one of the most impressive Norman arches I've ever seen. More than that, the place is imbued with a wonderfully warm, inclusive atmosphere. Rosie's Dad wants it to be a community space, and once a year, even allows skateboarders to come in to do competitions! It's the first church I've been to in ages where I've felt I wouldn't necessarily burst into flames upon entering!
I'm so pleased we made the effort to come...
As it happened we were in the area anyway on account of having been in Newbury this afternoon to see the production of Oliver at the charming Water Mill theatre, which, for some reason, is teeming with rather cute ducklings at the moment. (The theatre grounds, that is, not the show itself!) Is September not a somewhat quirky time of year for ducks to spawn? Was I witnessing second litters? I worry about their chances of survival if there's an early winter.
The show, which featured (as you might expect at the Water Mill) a cast of actor musicians, was beautifully staged and very well performed, with some lovely little touches which included the act two opener, Oom Pah Pah, actually being performed in the theatre's garden before the audience were ushered back into the auditorium. I'm never wholly convinced by actor-musician shows. I think they can be a little distracting both aurally and visually. The 'cellists, for example, for some reason, are always expected to stand up to play, which always compromises the sound they make, and forces me to sit and stare at them to work out if they're playing with harnesses or whether they've had to buy especially long spikes. I also wonder whether a cast of actor musicians are ever quite good enough in any of the disciplines that are expected of them. There's always a compromise. It's hard enough to find a triple threat, but a quadruple threat, including one that plays music to the standard needed for a West End show, is surely almost impossible to find?
It was in Newbury that we heard the news that Jeremy Corbyn has been overwhelmingly voted in as the new Labour leader. I'm very happy with the result. I'm not sure he's got a wide-enough appeal to be the next prime minister, but apart from the nonsense he talks about women only carriages, I agree with everything he says, and feel it's about time that we sent a message to politicians telling them that no one's interested in boring, squeaky clean, bland Barbie Dolls who do as they're told and say only what's diplomatically required to remain in power. Now that there's a proper Left Wing party, I can get interested in politics again.
As we drove home tonight, we stopped off at a garage on a country road somewhere near the M4. As I got to the counter to pay, an RAC van pulled into the garage. "Thank God they're here" said the man who was serving, "that poor car's been stuck at the petrol pump ever since the bloke filled it up with the wrong kind of petrol." Turns out it was a young couple, and they'd been there for three whole hours. Three hours! The woman of the couple was wrapped in a blanket on the front seat, weeping. What a way to ruin a Saturday night. I'm getting tearful just thinking about it...
At a second services stop on the M4, we bumped into Julie's best mate, Flammy and her Mum, queuing for a late night toasted sandwich in the Costa Coffee. It was a lovely surprise and we had a quick catch up chat, which, as always with Flammy, involved a lot of laughter.
So all in all it's been a great day, In fact I wish all day offs could be more like this one!
Saturday, 12 September 2015
The Arsenal
Another day along the timeline of our mystery project, and it feels like we're just about on schedule, whatever "on schedule" means with a project where, for reasons which will become painfully clear when the cat is let out of the bag, no-one has any real sense of what's actually going on! Each new day, just as we start to feel we're getting a handle on things, in comes the curve ball and we're back to feeling a little non-plussed again!
So, anyway, today found me doing another round of research whilst Nathan went through a 200,000-word document with a highlighter pen. I did my obligatory hour on Brass at about 5pm, and, that was about that...
We met my new friend, Sharyn at Kentish Town tube at 7pm and took her for a lovely walk on Hampstead Heath in the soft, milky, early evening light. Sharyn is from Canada, more specifically Calgary in the province of Alberta. I met her about three years ago in a cafe on Old Compton Street. I was writing music under a pair of headphones, she was on her way to see Jersey Boys, and we simply got talking. It turned out that she was something of a culture vulture, so we had a great chat. We also discovered that I'm just two days older than her youngest son, which felt like a strange coincidence.
We kept in touch and she saw the wedding and sent us lovely gifts through the post including a key ring which I dutifully carried around with me until the chain broke. This is the first time she's been back in the UK since then, so it was fabulous to see her, and, of course, show her the magic of the Heath, which was looking spectacular this evening.
She treated us to a delicious meal up in Zizzi in Highgate and showed us photographs of her lovely summer house which is by a giant lake. Everything's by a giant lake in Canada. There's so much flippin' space (and water) in that country! She also showed us photographs of a forest camp site which was so large you couldn't see the people in the next door pitch!
Her grandson is a big fan of The Arsenal, so we drove her to the Emirates Stadium and photographed her standing by the enormous, already iconic statue, which spells out the team's name in twelve-foot high letters. We dropped her off at Arsenal tube, and all of us went on our separate ways.
I'm pleased to say that Nathan seems a little perkier than he has been of late - and a big thanks to everyone who has enquired after him. I think the root canal has done him a lot of favours. Thank God.
Right. Time for bed. We've a busy day tomorrow.
So, anyway, today found me doing another round of research whilst Nathan went through a 200,000-word document with a highlighter pen. I did my obligatory hour on Brass at about 5pm, and, that was about that...
We met my new friend, Sharyn at Kentish Town tube at 7pm and took her for a lovely walk on Hampstead Heath in the soft, milky, early evening light. Sharyn is from Canada, more specifically Calgary in the province of Alberta. I met her about three years ago in a cafe on Old Compton Street. I was writing music under a pair of headphones, she was on her way to see Jersey Boys, and we simply got talking. It turned out that she was something of a culture vulture, so we had a great chat. We also discovered that I'm just two days older than her youngest son, which felt like a strange coincidence.
We kept in touch and she saw the wedding and sent us lovely gifts through the post including a key ring which I dutifully carried around with me until the chain broke. This is the first time she's been back in the UK since then, so it was fabulous to see her, and, of course, show her the magic of the Heath, which was looking spectacular this evening.
She treated us to a delicious meal up in Zizzi in Highgate and showed us photographs of her lovely summer house which is by a giant lake. Everything's by a giant lake in Canada. There's so much flippin' space (and water) in that country! She also showed us photographs of a forest camp site which was so large you couldn't see the people in the next door pitch!
Her grandson is a big fan of The Arsenal, so we drove her to the Emirates Stadium and photographed her standing by the enormous, already iconic statue, which spells out the team's name in twelve-foot high letters. We dropped her off at Arsenal tube, and all of us went on our separate ways.
I'm pleased to say that Nathan seems a little perkier than he has been of late - and a big thanks to everyone who has enquired after him. I think the root canal has done him a lot of favours. Thank God.
Right. Time for bed. We've a busy day tomorrow.
Friday, 11 September 2015
Promtastic
We're heading home from the Albert Hall where Jarvis Cocker was hosting a late night Prom with the BBC Philharmonic. I'm proud as punch to report that the orchestral arrangements were done by Fiona, and even prouder to report that her work was absolutely stunning. The evening was esoteric and eccentric in the extreme. Mr Cocker sang four songs whilst introducing a series of pieces from the orchestral repertoire which were loosely linked by the theme of the sea. There were snippets of recorded documentary interviews as well, all from people who'd experienced haunting and near death experiences under water, including a free diver and two blokes who'd got into terrible trouble in a submarine. Musical excerpts from the orchestra ranged from the deeply evocative Sailing By from the Shipping Forecast through Jaws to a rather stunning rendition of The Aquarium from Carnival of the Animals. I'd forgotten quite what a sublime piece of music that was. I'm not yet convinced that the BBC Phil is the greatest orchestra in the world, but love the fact that they get to do these wacko concerts which bring classical music to much more diverse audiences.
Apart from Fiona's arrangements, which stole the show, the other highlight was a two-minute virtuoso organ improvisation by Richard Hills which needed to be heard to be believed. I think many composers, me included, shy away from writing anything particularly interesting for the organ. Moments like Hills' extemporisation tonight, which made me so excited tears started streaming from my eyes, remind us what a powerful, versatile and multifaceted instrument the organ is.
The Prom was such a lovely way to end a tiring day, which started at 8am with a drive up to Hendon where I deposited Nathan outside what can only be described as a suburban town house where his root canal procedure took place. The infection, the orthodontist told him, was fairly extreme, based on the fact that the tooth bled with great alacrity. Too much information? I'm just pleased it's all over.
Nathan arrived back home, drooling like a trooper from the corner of his mouth, rather sooner than anticipated, whilst I was doing a weepy on-camera interview for the documentary project.
It was a glorious day weather-wise and we drove down to Kentish Town in baking hot sunshine. It seemed a shame to have to work this afternoon, but work we did, like good little boys, until it was time to amble into central London to meet Fiona for some Italian food before heading to the Albert Hall, where this blog post begins. Do feel free to start reading all over again...
Apart from Fiona's arrangements, which stole the show, the other highlight was a two-minute virtuoso organ improvisation by Richard Hills which needed to be heard to be believed. I think many composers, me included, shy away from writing anything particularly interesting for the organ. Moments like Hills' extemporisation tonight, which made me so excited tears started streaming from my eyes, remind us what a powerful, versatile and multifaceted instrument the organ is.
The Prom was such a lovely way to end a tiring day, which started at 8am with a drive up to Hendon where I deposited Nathan outside what can only be described as a suburban town house where his root canal procedure took place. The infection, the orthodontist told him, was fairly extreme, based on the fact that the tooth bled with great alacrity. Too much information? I'm just pleased it's all over.
Nathan arrived back home, drooling like a trooper from the corner of his mouth, rather sooner than anticipated, whilst I was doing a weepy on-camera interview for the documentary project.
It was a glorious day weather-wise and we drove down to Kentish Town in baking hot sunshine. It seemed a shame to have to work this afternoon, but work we did, like good little boys, until it was time to amble into central London to meet Fiona for some Italian food before heading to the Albert Hall, where this blog post begins. Do feel free to start reading all over again...
Thursday, 10 September 2015
Schmutter
I'm slightly late to the blog tonight on account of getting myself waylaid looking through the Fall 2015 edition of Vogue Knitting, which features a pattern by my husband, the incredibly talented designer Nathan Taylor AKA Sockmatician. The design is a double-knitted shawl based on the iconic Chrysler Building in New York. One side of the garment shows the building in the daytime, and the other shows it at night. It's a stunning bit of schmutter, and I'm exceedingly proud of him. Just to recap: that's a pattern published in Vogue Knitting, which is the most prestigious publication in the knitting world. Proud? Hell yeah!
Nathan is off to see an endodontist tomorrow where he will be having root canal work, which I'm told is a fairly unpleasant experience. He's been living with some sort of infection in his tooth for some time now and until recently we'd been waiting for our useless dentist to get back to us with financially viable alternatives to the ludicrously expensive specialist she initially suggested. She never got back to us, so Nathan's been forced to settle for the first one. His blood tests came back suggesting his body was fighting some kind of infection and I'm quite convinced it's to do with this tooth. In fact, I've done some research which suggests his chest problems might be linked to the same issue. I have my fingers firmly crossed that all his problems will be solved with the single procedure.
We spent the day down in Kentish Town doing an inordinate amount of work on the documentary project. I was incredibly proud of what we achieved. We worked ourselves into a frenzy and had to take a walk around Hampstead Heath to calm ourselves down.
We walked home as the sun set, all the way up the steep hill into Highgate and down again, arriving home just in time for the Bake Off, which we watched with a plate of pasta and salad on our laps. It turned out to be a somewhat nail-biting and emotional episode. I'm nailing my colours to the mast as a huge fan of Nadia. I think she's inspiring and hugely amusing...
There's not a great deal else to say. After the Bake Off finished I did two hours' work on Brass before watching the end of Despicable Me, which we watched last night until I prematurely fell asleep. At least I can finally say with authority what a Minion is, having won four of the little tykes on the Santa Monica pier in Los Angeles.
Nathan is off to see an endodontist tomorrow where he will be having root canal work, which I'm told is a fairly unpleasant experience. He's been living with some sort of infection in his tooth for some time now and until recently we'd been waiting for our useless dentist to get back to us with financially viable alternatives to the ludicrously expensive specialist she initially suggested. She never got back to us, so Nathan's been forced to settle for the first one. His blood tests came back suggesting his body was fighting some kind of infection and I'm quite convinced it's to do with this tooth. In fact, I've done some research which suggests his chest problems might be linked to the same issue. I have my fingers firmly crossed that all his problems will be solved with the single procedure.
We spent the day down in Kentish Town doing an inordinate amount of work on the documentary project. I was incredibly proud of what we achieved. We worked ourselves into a frenzy and had to take a walk around Hampstead Heath to calm ourselves down.
We walked home as the sun set, all the way up the steep hill into Highgate and down again, arriving home just in time for the Bake Off, which we watched with a plate of pasta and salad on our laps. It turned out to be a somewhat nail-biting and emotional episode. I'm nailing my colours to the mast as a huge fan of Nadia. I think she's inspiring and hugely amusing...
There's not a great deal else to say. After the Bake Off finished I did two hours' work on Brass before watching the end of Despicable Me, which we watched last night until I prematurely fell asleep. At least I can finally say with authority what a Minion is, having won four of the little tykes on the Santa Monica pier in Los Angeles.
Wednesday, 9 September 2015
Clutter
I took the day off from the documentary project today and worked solidly on Brass. It made sense to do so. Nathan was doing a day at the Shaftesbury Theatre and the time had firmly arrived for me to make in roads into the two numbers from the show I've opted to totally re-write. I've been putting this day off for weeks now. The idea of starting again on two whole songs, whilst the other twenty are almost entirely done and dusted is just sickening.
Still, sometimes you have to light your candle and bravely step out into the darkness, and today that's exactly what I did. I didn't get incredibly far, but I blocked out the overture sequence from one of the two songs and almost finished the first draft of the other, which meant I felt quite upbeat when I stopped working this evening.
I was working from home, which meant I could do some much-needed washing. The bedroom floor was covered in clutter, which is an indication of quite how busy we've been of late. I found a pair of linen shorts under a suit. The last time I wore them was in Los Angeles. As I picked them up and stuffed them in the washing machine, I wondered what would be going on in my life when I pull them out of my chest of drawers next summer. The likelihood of my needing them again this year is sadly next to zero. It's tragic to think that summer is over, and even worse to realise that it sort of vanished into a haze of rain and wind. I like my summers to end with a few weeks of that glorious treacle-coloured sunlight that you only get at the end of August; the one which creates dusty, long, rather burnt-looking shadows, perfect for picking blackberries in!
Still, as is always the case with September, I'm feeling very optimistic and creative at the moment. I think the sensation must go back to school days. The Christmas term was always the most exciting one. It was all about new beginnings, no exams on the near horizon, and learning music for Christmas concerts and school plays. Ever since leaving education I've traditionally done my best work in Autumn.
Still, sometimes you have to light your candle and bravely step out into the darkness, and today that's exactly what I did. I didn't get incredibly far, but I blocked out the overture sequence from one of the two songs and almost finished the first draft of the other, which meant I felt quite upbeat when I stopped working this evening.
I was working from home, which meant I could do some much-needed washing. The bedroom floor was covered in clutter, which is an indication of quite how busy we've been of late. I found a pair of linen shorts under a suit. The last time I wore them was in Los Angeles. As I picked them up and stuffed them in the washing machine, I wondered what would be going on in my life when I pull them out of my chest of drawers next summer. The likelihood of my needing them again this year is sadly next to zero. It's tragic to think that summer is over, and even worse to realise that it sort of vanished into a haze of rain and wind. I like my summers to end with a few weeks of that glorious treacle-coloured sunlight that you only get at the end of August; the one which creates dusty, long, rather burnt-looking shadows, perfect for picking blackberries in!
Still, as is always the case with September, I'm feeling very optimistic and creative at the moment. I think the sensation must go back to school days. The Christmas term was always the most exciting one. It was all about new beginnings, no exams on the near horizon, and learning music for Christmas concerts and school plays. Ever since leaving education I've traditionally done my best work in Autumn.
Tuesday, 8 September 2015
Charlie and the Chocolate Craptory
It could well be a bit of a late night. Nathan and I have been working on a document all day which we’ve promised to send out before tomorrow. We’ve worked on it on the tube, in the car, for seven hours in an office and at one point as we gobbled down soup for lunch. Whilst not working on the document, Nathan has been gallivanting around North London to get his blood test results back from the doctors and to have more blood taken at the hospital. These days, certainly up in Highgate, you can’t actually book a useful appointment with a GP. Last week, as they sent him away for the tests, they told him the results would be back in a week, but that they couldn’t book him an appointment for three weeks. The advice instead was to call at 8am for an “emergency appointment,” which involves a peculiar lottery system where you call and call and call in the hope of catching the receptionist when she puts the phone down on the lucky person that managed to get in before you. When Nathan finally got through, all the morning emergency appointments had gone, so he was advised to call back at 1pm for an afternoon emergency appointment. We had a land line and two mobiles on constant ring-back for ten minutes until Nathan finally got through. He was seen later in the afternoon…
This evening we were lucky enough to get a pair of tickets to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane, which has to be one of the most iconic theatres in the world. It’s certainly one of the biggest, oldest, most beautiful… and most haunted. Nathan actually worked there for a year, performing Miss Saigon in the late 90s. He tells the tale of returning to the theatre late at night to pick up a bag he’d forgotten, and being let in by the 24-hour stage door keeper. He walked down a darkened corridor backstage just as a pay phone started ringing randomly. Thinking it was the stage door man trying to get his attention, Nathan answered, but the line was silent. He got a bit freaked out, but went to his dressing room to collect his bag. As he returned along the corridor a few minutes later, the same phone started ringing again. He picked it up, but again it was silent…
During the late 90s, I worked for a few years as the stage door keeper at the New Ambassadors Theatre. At the end of each shift, I had to walk around the theatre locking up, and always found the experience rather unsettling. As I walked into the darkened auditorium, I often felt that I could still sense a residue of energy from that night’s audience. When there’d been a funny show, I swear the house felt lighter, somehow. Tragedies, like The Wear, where, on first preview, one of the ushers had to be carried out of the theatre by the audience because she was so distressed, always left the theatre feeling rather heavy and gloomy. Of course I was probably only imagining it, but if I had a pound, as they say, for every unexplained noise I heard in those late night lock-ups, I would be a very rich man. I was most grateful to the intruder we found in the gentlemen’s loos one night, (fortunately before all the staff has left the building) because from then on, the theatre’s fireman was rostered to do the lock up with the stage door keeper.
I wasn’t a massive fan of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, by the way. I thought there were some wonderful sequences: the Oompah-Loompahs were absolutely brilliant, the acting performances were strong and there were some glorious (if a little clunky sets), but the music was just a bit, well, meh. It just bumbled away in the background, never really hitting a huge climax, or taking the audience anywhere exciting. It was just there. Written, as they say, on the back of a Cornflakes packet. There’s also an issue with the pacing of the story, in that it takes such a long time to reach the chocolate factory itself. In this production, you don’t actually see the magic inside the building until after the interval, which means there are one or two too many slow and static scenes involving Charlie’s extended family, all of which, frankly, leave you wondering why on earth they’re all so poor. (In this particular stage show, although the father was unemployed, the mother seemed to be working as a nurse, so quite why they were living on a rubbish dump and couldn’t even afford a bar of chocolate, I’m not sure! What was she spending her nurse’s salary on? Crack?)
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