How terribly lapse I have been in updating this blog of late. Our devoted followers must be positively champing at the bit to hear more ripping yarns of the revellry and repugnancy of the Journey's End tour.
Since the last post, we have played three different venues- the Lighthouse Theatre in Poole, the Hexagon in Reading and the Adam Smith Theatre in Kircaldy (pronounced Kir-coddy), Scotland. Audience numbers have been variable, as they are wont to be on such diverse tours. We had a large rabble in Reading, including a lot of younger people, who laughed at words like "fat". Fat is a funny word, no doubt about it. In fact, I'm barely able to type the word "fat" without pebbledashing my underpants due to uncontrollable fits of hysterical laughter.
Fat. LOL!
Poole was nice. Some of us stayed in the greatest digs ever known to the theatrical industry. We had a massive telly and Sky Plus and a pub next door. The local beer "Fortyniner" was absolutely down ye. The audiences were sparse in Poole, but they were all pretty complimentary, which is nice. The theatre had a nice cafe in the foyer, and they served a great ploughman's platter. Apparently, however, the goats cheese salad was utter shite. We enjoyed walking around the Quays in Poole, and were even able to give one of the company a new nickname whilst there.
As I type, we are travelling back from Kircaldy on the train. This train has wifi. We thought we might be able to upgrade to first class for a tenner, but it turns out to have been £25. Well, as fantastically renumerated as I am for this tour, that's a bit of a stretch in the budget. However, one crumb of comfort is that as cramped as cattle class may appear to be, it is nowhere near as umcomfortable as sitting in a Rover 200 surrounded by flatulent bog trotters and chocolate-knobbed miscreants for the next 9 hours en route to the home counties. How the saving of £37 must seem a bittersweet pill when visting the 14th overpriced "Journey's Friend" of the day whilst waiting for your travelling party to drain their bladders of the cans of special brew consumed to make the journey ever so slightly more bearable. Still, I suppose you can add about £11.50 to that £37 saving, considering that none of the voyagers in that Rover 200 will need to pay to see the forthcoming production of "The Importance of being Oscar", as one suspects that there will have been several free previews between Carlisle and Bury St Edmonds. Showtunes, line runs and the stagnant miasma of a booze-addled Wurzel Gummage. Thank you Scotrail.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the audiences in Poole- as small as they were- were wonderful. In this blogger's humble opinion, they seemed like they were with us for the whole journey. And everyone was lovely. The box office staff, the theatre management, the local landlord, all were exceptionally hospitable. And, for the very first time in my (albeit fairly limited) career, we had a pot of tea sent up at the interval. A pot of bloody tea! I have never seen the like of that in my life. To any budding theatre producers/bookers reading this blog, please take this bit of information on board. All that is required for to have a happy company is prompt payment and a cup of tea at the interval. Every now and then a free beer is hugely appreciated, but the positive effects of the interval cup of tea cannot be overestimated. In short, actors want to be treated like pensioners. Talked to with quiet deference and offered tea all the time.
I'm not sure if I have anything to add at this point. If I think of owt, Ill tell you later.
Happy Valentine's Day.
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