Things Fall Apart
I really didn’t want to use these posts as a place to moan, but sometimes things just go so badly that you need to get them off your chest.
As I mentioned in the postscript to the last post my father died on the Friday 23rd February. We couldn’t pick up the doctor’s death cert from the hospital until late afternoon on the following Wednesday so couldn’t register his death until the Thursday morning. Having spoken to mum on the Wednesday morning I made an appointment with the registrar’s office and Sue arranged for us to stay at her parents on the Wednesday night to save driving an extra 100 miles over the two days. We woke up on Thursday morning to Sue’s mum saying “Bill the radiators are stone cold and there’s no hot water.” Their boiler had packed up and so we couldn’t start the day with our usual shower, (SPOILER ALERT – this was the week of the ‘Beast from the East’).
We got to the register office in Portsmouth with no problem and registered the death. As we now had the ‘green form’ that gives the hospital permission to release the body we also made an appointment with a local firm of funeral directors. It was while we were at the funeral director’s that it started to snow, but not seriously. We dropped mum back at home and decided not to stay for a quick cuppa. We left Gosport at 3pm on a journey that should have taken an hour. At 5:30 we were within 350 yards of the end of the motorway when everything ground to a halt – the New Forest had become impassable. At 8:30pm Hampshire Police declared it a major emergency and called in the Army to assist, 3 diggers finally arrived at 1am and started to clear a route. Everything was fine until we reached Ringwood, but the last 6 or so miles was on untreated roads which hadn’t had much traffic, in freezing rain. We finally arrived home at 2am and I then had to shovel snow off the drive so that we could get the car off the road. The one spot of relief was the cup of hot chocolate given to us at 11:30pm by some locals who were walking up and down the carriageway dishing out hot drinks to us stranded motorists.
As there was more bad weather forecast for the Friday and, according to our daughter, the trains in and out of London were still badly disrupted, I never got my birthday present. This was a two day storytelling workshop in Shoreditch run by Ben Haggarty from the Crick Crack Club which I’d really been looking forward to this, but at least I got a full refund, given the circumstances.
Monday 12th was dad’s funeral which was tough on the family. I had been asked to do the eulogy by mum and managed to keep it together. Still it did give me the chance to say ‘bloody’ in church in front of 4 vicars! Dad’s ship, HMS Formidable, had suffered a Kamikaze attack on the day before dad’s 20th birthday – his action station had been on the ship’s island so he had been looking down on the plane as flew down the length of the fight deck before making its final attack. After it was all over he had commented,
“I’ve been through the Blitz; we’ve had bombs, we’ve had incendiaries, we’ve had landmines thrown at us but it’s the first time I’ve had the bloody plane thrown at me as well.”
Another result of the disruption caused by the bad weather was Kinson Primary School cancelling their Great Fire of London session. Plus both grandchildren went down with chicken pox – not at the same time but one after the other – so ‘Grumpy’ duties have been fun recently.
So life hasn’t exactly been a bed of roses at the moment, but I’m determined to end this post on a positive note. I’m not doing a storytelling session at Wimborne Folk Festival in June … I’m booked to do three, (watch this space).
This post will end up being uploaded long after some of the events it refers to for reasons that will become clear later.
On the Bartholomew front things are still quiet. Kinson Primary School has booked a session for March – I’m just waiting on them confirming the date. I have suggested to them that I could give the new format a run out; this would involve doing the PowerPoint presentation before break. The classroom would then be ‘dressed’ to resemble the Grey Goose tavern while the children are at play and I would have longer to get into my costume. To this end I have extended Bartholomew’s story so I should be able to talk about all of the props as they are packed away prior to Bartholomew and Abigail fleeing to the Moorfields camp. If they go for the idea it should make a pretty interesting story. I haven’t heard anything definite yet from Grovelands Primary in Walton-on-Thames (Bartholomew is nothing if not willing to travel).
So what’s been happening on the performance front in general?
Jan 25th – the Burn’s night supper went very well, the food in particular was excellent. As usual I had over prepared, talking to Emmanuelle during the meal I asked how long they wanted me to do and was told ‘about 15 minutes,’ so I quickly pruned out a couple of the poems. I started with the Address to a Haggis – there were one or two stumbles over some of the more obscure Scottish words, but on the whole it went OK. I had got to the end of the penultimate poem and had said ‘I’ll do one more’ when someone called out ‘do two’ – so I did. Mark and Emmanuelle were both happy with the evening and several people came up to me afterwards to say thank you and how much they had enjoyed the performance.
Feb 3rd – the family decamped to Derby as my nephew was getting married. A couple of weeks before the wedding I’d got a surprise phone call from Stuart asking if I’d do the reading during the service, which was very flattering.
Feb 15th – Heads and Tails at Ringwood. There was no professional storyteller this month so the whole evening was ‘open mic’, the theme was Love, Lust and Laughter. I ended up performing two stories during the evening – Tam Lin & His Heart’s Desire (aka The Woodcutter and the Unicorn). Tam Lin was the last story before the first break and after it Mike, who runs the club, asked if I’d be interested in doing a set at Wimborne Folk Festival in June? I just about restrained myself from biting his hand off. So now I’m turning my mind to a set built around the Childe Ballads and other folk songs. I really want to do Long Lankin as it’s so creepy in some versions – definitely not one for the kids, although I may also be able to do a children’s set as well over the weekend. The one fly in the ointment is that the proposed evening is Friday 9th June and Sue and I already have tickets for a show in Poole that night!
So why is this going up so late? Well, I’m writing it in my usual manner – long hand in a notebook – sitting in a hotel in Malta. So I won’t be able to get it typed up and uploaded until the beginning of next week (26th Feb) after I get back.
Postscript: there was a further delay as on the afternoon of the 23rd Feb, while we were on a ferry coming back from Gozo; I got a phone call from sister to say that dad had died that afternoon. I’ve therefore spent part of the last week travelling backwards and forwards to help mum register the death and sort out funeral arrangements – putting up posts being well down on the agenda.
Storytelling debut 22nd January 2018
I was tempted to start this post by moaning about how badly 2017 ended, but that’s not what they’re about. Let’s just say that, since I ceased working for Bournemouth Libraries at the end of November, both of my parents have been admitted to hospital. So, to quote Robert Burns (more of him anon), ‘the best laid plans of mice and men …’
On a positive note I’ve finally made my debut at the Heads and Tales Storytelling Café last Thursday. The evening started with a wonderful selection of stories told by Katy Cawkwell, the last of which, Iron Teeth Eaten Heart, was a gruesomely dark tale from Siberia, if you get the chance to see this take it. The last 40 minutes of the evening was an open mic session at which newcomers (like me) are allowed to go first. I’d decided that, given the location of the main story, I’d tell the Russian folktale that I’d used with a school group at the start of last year and my experience demonstrated the difference between storytelling for children/schools and adults.
When I first read the story I took it at face value – odd things happen, but it’s a fairy story so what do you expect? When I told it in the library the children listened in polite silence, but on Thursday … The story starts with an absurd situation – someone tries to claim that their cart has given birth to a foal. When I got to this part the audience began to chuckle, the laughs coming thicker and faster as the story progressed. Looking out at the audience at one point I noticed that the professional storyteller was also laughing, and she thanked me for my story at the end of the evening. That’s it then … I’m hooked.
So what’s coming up in the future performance wise? Well on Thursday (25th) I’m reading some Robert Burns poetry at a Burns Night dinner at La Fosse, a very good restaurant at Cranbourne (see I said we’d come back to him). I’m particularly looking forward to this as payment is dinner, so my next post could very well be a restaurant review.
As for Bartholomew, I’ve had two enquires about Great Fire of London talks but whether anything comes of them I’m not sure. Unfortunately, in an age of ever shrinking budgets there just doesn’t seem to be the money in schools for such sessions any more.
Remember, remember 6th November 2017
I was sitting at the library enquiry desk the other Monday when one of the old ladies from the Brendon Care group came up to me and said, “You were very good last week … I didn’t understand what you were telling us, but you were very good.” A bit backhanded, but still a compliment … I think. And what had earned me this curious accolade?
The previous Monday I had performed my Guy Fawkes piece for them. I’d kept it light and steered well away from the sheer gruesomeness of hanging, drawing and quartering – unlike the BBC’s Gunpowder (which I’ve still got to watch). It’s an interesting piece to perform as it involves playing two characters, Guy Fawkes and a secretary to Sir Robert Cecil and involves a costume change part way through – OK I change doublets, but in true Shakespearian tradition once you’ve changed nobody recognizes you.
I start the piece at one table, with a few props, as Guy Fawkes gives a (very) potted history of his life up until he is recruited to take part in the plot.
Then I switch to a second table where ‘M,’ as he calls himself, from Cecil’s spy network is preparing a report about the discovery of the plot and the fates of the conspirators. Now there are a lot of names to get my head around – 13 plotters to start with – so remembering everything is a bit of a nightmare. I’ve therefore discovered that the easiest thing to do is … cheat. The style of the performance makes this easy.
To start with Guy receives a letter outlining the plot and naming the conspirators. This means that I only have to remember that extra bits that I slip in while reading out the letter. Secondly ‘M’ is preparing a report and what do you need when preparing a report? Notes! I therefore have several sheets of notes and a handwritten copy of the fateful Monteagle letter on M’s desk. “Simples,” to quote a rather annoying meerkat.
So how did the day go? The new shirt and britches that I was wearing for the first time were comfortable and, at least I’ve got to use them, (just need an excuse to wear the Dutch coat). I did, however, have a bit of a heart sink moment just before starting. Guy Fawkes was born in Stonegate, York, so I do this bit of the performance with a Yorkshire accent. As I was getting ready to perform I realised that one of the Brendon Care volunteers hailed from Yorkshire, luckily she didn’t take offence at my efforts. I think I remembered everything – I’m not aware of any gaping holes in the performance. Better still, everyone enjoyed it … even if they didn’t always understand it.