Sunday, 18 July 2010

Awol's Inn Conveniences

The other day I received the following text:

Just to let you all know the condom machine should be fixed today. Sorry for any inconveneance (sic)



Thursday, 15 July 2010

Hampshire/Dorset part ii

The last post was a mini-rant amid the Hampshire gorgeousness that is Selbourne. I am heartily relieved when Basso and I make up as I drive off into the dark with only my iPhone for guidance. He is sorry for being in a pissy mood with me for me being in a pissy mood over the enforced filming day that hijacked our day off. I'm sorry for being in a pissy mood in the first place. I try not to be too smug over my absolute lack of pissiness when it transpires that there has been a minor balls-up over the sleeping arrangements and The Dog is not welcome in my accommodation. Fortunately Polish Gran lives somewhere nearby, and The Dog is always welcome there. Hence me, van and Dog disappearing into the dark with iPhone.

Droxford is hosted by some judicial bigwig in his garden, which, were it mine, would accommodate several donkeys and a few goats for good measure. As it is, we pitch up amongst the rose bushes on the softest turf you've ever set foot on. My sun-salutations have never felt better. I wish The Dog wouldn't bite me quite so hard on the bum when I'm doing downward er... dog. I'm not quite sure why he objects to that position, but he does. Big excitement when we arrive, as there is a big blackboard by the roadside advertising the arrival of 'The Rudes'. Now the Rude Mechanical Theatre Company has been using this diminutive for years, but it's great seeing it used by our fans. We instantly feel like a band. Basso designs some T-shirts with this in the slogan. 'Rude Since 1999' is my favourite. If anyone wants one, they're for sale, just get in touch.

From Droxford on to Swanage where we have Fantastical Fish and Chips. I filmed here earlier in the year and felt compelled to find out whether the fare lived up to its billing. Nothing immediately Tolkein-esque occurred but they were so good then that I drag the Rudes down to the sea front to try them. Damn fine. We all fall asleep in the sun. Our show that night is a stonker. We're up on the cliffs at Durlston Country Park. A fine place, and well managed by nice rangers who bring us tea, let me charge up my MacBook and even watch the show. A standing ovation once again. "Thank you Swanage, Goodnight!"

We're so rock and roll.


Friday, 9 July 2010

It's A Family Affair

Stage Managers as a breed appeal to me. I like their extreme organisation and fetishistic love of stationery. However, there is a type of stage manager that I loathe. It's the type that assumes that the actors cannot think for themselves and furthermore mustn't be allowed to think too hard as those thoughts are bound to be naughty and work to the detriment of the company and the show. Whilst some actors admittedly need more managing than others I resent being herded about like a naughty child by someone who thinks that my sole intention is to bollocks things up.

I say this because Basso, love him as I do, is in danger, when he dons his 'management' hat, of falling into the latter category. It's more complicated than that... he's closely related to the Director and is understandably hypersensitive to any perceived criticism of the company or its organisation. Furthermore he seems to have lost sight of how much we all adore the company and the Director, and how far we have all gone in terms of extra time and effort to promote the company's interests. At the moment we're just a bunch of tossers who've been rude to his dad.

Only he's allowed to do that.