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.