To Billericay yesterday and a wander up and down the bleak Radford Way (large tin boxes housing salesrooms, fitness centres and other impedimenta of post-industrial suburbia) before finding Creative Blast. Pleasant conversation with Darryl, who of course will not take me on but wants to follow my developing career. Well, it's a step upwards from previous agents who have politely said thanks but no thanks, and I head back into London with a sense of having inched a little forward towards the light.
In London I get two phone calls within an hour from Bruce of the Greenwich Playhouse. No, he can't commit to using me in The Duchess of Malfi, because the play won't work with only one of me and he's still waiting for confirmation for the other bodyguard. Which means that my travel plans (the Other Half and I intend going back to Thailand for three weeks in March) are still up in the air. In the meantime Bruce sends me the script, heavily amended from Webster's original. I find my part much smaller than I expected, on stage for few scenes and with no more than four lines, in place of the ten or twenty I had inferred from earlier discussions.
Am I still interested? Well, I like the idea of a four-week run and the discipline that involves, plus the opportunity of being seen, even if only as part of the scenery. The downside is that it b*gg*rs up our holiday; the Other Half is sympathetic to my wanting the role, but his sympathy might dry up if he sees how little I get and how much he has to give up...
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