Tuesday 29th April 2014

Hurtling towards production week. At the moment, it feels like running down a very steep hill, so fast that my feet can't quite keep up with themselves. It's going to be a somewhat busy few weeks, the longest performance run I've yet been involved with, and - it's just occurred to me - the largest part I've played in a fair while. The plan is to keep myself sustained with fresh fruit and gallons of ginger tea with honey. Knowing my organisational skills, however, it's much more likely that my diet for the next month will consist mainly of lucozade and pot noodles. 

Because my bloodline is apparently under sufferance to an ancient curse which means I can't keep a bike for longer than two months without it either being stolen or falling apart, it comes as very little surprise that I have a flat tyre. This, traditionally, adds about a hour and a half to my commute per day, as I'm having to walk to and from train stations. On the walk to work this morning, I lost my cap, which I'd been meaning to use at tonight's rehearsal, as part of the costume. I'm guessing that it will be no great hardship if I can't find one that's both reasonably nice looking and big enough for my freakishly large head, but I can have some sympthay with actors who attach undue importance to an item of clothing that they've been using to inform their character. It's oddly unsettling; you almost feel that, robbed of the chance to rely on props and the like, that your acting will be exposed as the charlatans dance it really is. And even if you're not quite that self deprecating (who, me, self deprecating? No, there must be some mistake), there will always be a part of you that feels bad that the audience will never get to see the 'good', the 'original' version. 

Yes, I'm fully aware it's just a cap. 

Tonight is our first rehearsal in the space itself, which I'm fully expecting will throw us all a curve ball: we haven't ever really been able to be in an environment that in any way truly replicates the space we will actually be performing in. I'm expecting lots of wide eyes, cold sweat, and incoherent gibbering. 

I imagine that everyone else will be fine, though. 

Hot Under The Collar

Another Ghostwalk last night. These past two days have been about the hottest and sunniest of the year so far. Now, I realise that that last sentence could easily have been replaced with 'these past two days have been the sunny ones' with no real effect on accuracy, or reality, but it's worth mentioning because of the Ghostwalk costume.

As you may or may not know, or even care, in order to do the walk, I have to wear a suitable outfit, all Victorian cape and top hat. Despite this get up, an inordinate amount of people I pass, while leading a large procession of tourists down Brighton Lanes, still feel compelled to ask what's going on, almost as if they half expect the answer to be a New Oreleand funeral. Tell you what, though. If it is going to be a New Kreleans funeral, then I at least want some chap at the roadside to be asking 'Whose funeral is it?', then some dude behind him to say 'Yours, baby', before sticking him with a walking stick blade. And that's my obscure filmic reference for this column sorted.

Anyway, I digress, which regular reader(s?) of this column will attest readily is a real issue, and it's something I'm working on. Look, there I go again. Anyway, Ghost Walking in sunlight. It's an odd thing, since invariably you get a very different atmosphere in the winter months, when it's already dark by about four o'clock, but because you're in a seaside town, the potential audiences can be somewhat smaller. Conversely, in the summer months, the audiences are noticeably bigger, but the Walk is done before it even begins to get dark. It means that in July and August, the walk never gets overly spooky. No-one seems to mind, however.

But it is noticeable just how hot it is this year when you're dressed like an 18th century undertaker. It's very hot and sweaty (the top hat is particularly punishing, and adding a full cloak seems to be asking for a full on collapse), but the effect is worth it: you clearly get a very different response from audiences dressed in the hat and tails as opposed to, say, a t-shirt and jeans. Whenever it all seems to get too hot, it's worth remembering the words of Charles M Schulz, who, as the creator of the long running 'Peanuts' cartoon, should be your go to point for most words of wisdom. Snoopy is spotted dazing in the sun, and it's lamented that, as a dog, he's always stuck in a full coat of fur. Snoopy takes a moment, and responds blithely: "Some of us prefer to sacrifice comfort for style ..."