Saturday, 18 February 2012
Slow, Slow, Quick Quick, Slow
As time passed I consumed mug after mug of coffee, alternating between Nescafe gold and the Nespresso machine, with the occasional mug of tea. (This production has brought me to the conclusion that such machines are not as good as the adverts in which George Clooney appears.) I scoffed chocolate biscuits and chocolate cake and chocolate bars. A bowl of home-made pasta salad disappeared as the hours went by. I exchanged weak jokes with other players. I read a few pages from A Dance to the Music of Time. I micturated from time to time. I got locked out with fellow executioner Alex as we burnt rope and exploded a cigarette lighter. (For the play, constable, and not for our own amusement.) And occasionally I found myself under the lights and the steely glare of our director and the sympathetic eyes of our fellow-actors.
All went well, although I realised when wearing gauze which covers the eyes on a darkened stage, not much can be seen and care has to be taken as one wends one's way exitwards 'tween audience rows. Released shortly before ten, on a near-deserted railway platform I discovered a new way home, by Docklands Light Railway and Overground. By eleven I was in abed and asleep.
And so, onwards and upwards. Today is the first of three dress rehearsals and a photo shoot. I'm ready for my close-up, Mr De Mille...
Posted by Martin Foreman