Let’s be Thankful for Christmas

Welcome back to all of those who have been following my adventures from the start and welcome to those who are just discovering the blog for the first time.  I am now back in America following my week long sojourn home and today is the day I get back to performing once more.

 

Return to Massachusetts

I am back in Massachusetts, where the first part of my tour also began and the first performances of this section have a great deal of meaning to me. Specifically I am based in the City of Worcester for the next few days.  I arrived on Tuesday night and picked up my car for the next 3 weeks (a black Jeep).  The nice thing about driving everywhere, rather than flying, is that I can leave things like my walking cane, top hat etc in the back seat all of the time.  I don’t have to worry about packing, re packing and having my bags searched every other day.

Wednesday is a completely empty, lazy day and I just stay in the hotel and do nothing until 6.00 when I drive the 20 minutes to join my hosts for the next few days, Gary and Judi Vaiilancourt, for dinner.

When I began to tour again a few years ago, under the management of Byers Choice, a number of my event sponsors were organisations who ‘do’ Christmas in one form or another.  Many are in the retail sector but one, Vaillancourt Folk Art, produce Christmas figures: specifically chalkware Santa Claus, each one hand made and painted.  You may suppose that the company would be in direct competition to Byers Choice but that is not the case and they have chosen to co operate, pool their skills and help each other out in a very competitive sector.

I first performed at the Vaillancourts’ headquarters 5 years ago and they have been a major supporter of my trips since then.  Not only that but they have become good friends.

Dinner on Wednesday is relaxed and quite, with just the three of us and I get back to the hotel at a reasonable time.

 

Thanksgiving

Thursday is Thanksgiving.

In England we have nothing equivalent to Thanksgiving.  We have Guy Fawkes Day on November 5^th, at which we celebrate the defeat of a potential terrorist attack in 1605 by burning effigies on huge bonfires.  However it is not a public holiday.

Thanksgiving is SUCH a good holiday and I always feel very privileged to be here for it.

I spend the morning watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade (Miracle on 34^th St for those of you who love your Christmas films).  This is America doing what it does so well: The Big Parade.  Marching bands, cheerleaders, batons twirling high into the sky, extravagant floats, stars of stage and screen miming to their hits and of course the huge tethered balloons.  And it all moves along at such an amazingly rapid pace.  There is cheering and applauding and waving and everyone is in good spirits.  We saw it to a small extent last year with the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee celebrations on the Thames but somehow the Americans are just so, well, American!

As the parade ends I get in my Jeep to drive to Gary and Judi’s house to be taken to Bob and Karen’s house (Bob and Karen being the parents of Gary and Judi’s daughter in law, Anna, who is married to Luke, Gary and Judi’s son.  Keeping up so far?  Good).

I think what I love about Thanksgiving more than anything else is that it is such a gentle, non commercialised, family oriented day.  At our meal there are 3 generations of family around the table, and there is laughter, poignancy, love, memories and aspirations.  Next door I’m sure there is the same and in the next block and the next City and the next State.  A whole nation united by a simple love of the family.  And here, in Sutton Massachusetts, I have been included.  It is a very very precious feeling.

I will not describe the celebration in detail – it seems too personal to publish but it was everything you’d expect.  I ate far too much of course.  Too much turkey and stuffing and mashed potato and corn bread and biscuits (sorry, they are NOT biscuits.  Biscuits are cookies, these are scones!), and gravy and all of the rest.

Thanksgiving Table

A Full Plate

At the end of the afternoon the family indulges in that other great Thanksgiving tradition: football.  Dallas Cowboys vs Baltimore Ravens and I am lost.  Completely, wholly and utterly lost.

The party breaks up slowly and Gary drives me back to my car and I head back to Worcester.  The traffic is heavy so I guess that I was correct in my supposition that the same things were happening at the same time in every house, including the farewells.

Bob and Karen.  Thank you.

Back at the hotel and very full indeed; I lie on the bed and fall asleep to Die Another Day.

 

Mechanics Hall

Friday is Black Friday.  There is nothing sinister in this (well, I suppose that depends on your point of view), Black Friday is when the stores in America go ballistic!  Remember how I said that Thanksgiving is so un-commercialised?  Well, Christmas starts here.  The pictures on the TV news are of pandemonium as the shops open their doors as early as possible, offering amazing discounts and offers to get the punters in.

I think another day inside is called for.

By lunchtime I’ve had enough of the easy life.  I want to get on with it and be on stage again which is fortunate because tonight I will be performing the 2 act version of A Christmas Carol that I tried out back in England last week.  I spend large chunks of the day making sure the new lines slide as seamlessly into the old script as possible and checking and rechecking the exact text that Dickens used.

Lunch in the room, watch some fantastic archive motorsports footage on You Tube and eventually it is time to prepare.  Costume x 2. Check.  Pairs of socks x 2. Check.  Cufflinks and watch. Check.  Braces/suspenders. Check.  Scripts x 2. Check.

My hotel is just on the outskirts of Worcester and it is a 5 minute drive to The Mechanics Hall but it is a drive that takes me back in time to 1868.

Charles Dickens performed in The Mechanics Hall, at that time only a few years old, as part of his USA tour and he would certainly recognise it still (although if he had come by in the 80s when it was the venue for a roller disco and wrestling matches, he may have struggled).  The restoration has been superbly achieved and as you stand in the main hall you can almost see the ghosts in their top hats, their crinolines.  You can almost hear the excited buzz as the crowd poured in to watch ‘The Inimitable’ read.

The Mechanics Hall

Actually his show here was memorable for all of the wrong reasons:  the main hall is on the 3^rd floor and beneath it there is a smaller hall, which on March 23 1868, was hosting a poultry sale.  When Dickens’s travelling gas man lit the stage lights the glare was so bright that it shone through the floorboards convincing all of the cockerels below that morning had come.  Dickens’s entire reading was accompanied by cocks crowing  and chickens clucking.  As Gary would later phrase it in his introduction to my show: ‘There was roostering!’

All of the Vaillancourt team are present, as well as the staff from the hall itself and there is a great bustle everywhere as the bar is stocked, the merchandise table is laid out and all of the little details are seen to.

The acoustics are so good here that it is very tempting to do the show with no microphone system at all but the tech guy suggests that it is worth using just to get to all corners of the balcony.  Certainly as we do the sound check I can tell that he has it at a very low level, just enough to enhance my voice, without over amplifying it.

A very nice surprise is the presence of Bob Byers and his wife Pam who have driven up from Pennsylvania to see the show (for those of you who have not followed my travels from the start: a) shame on you; b) my tour is managed by Byers Choice and Bob is a very good friend and a treat to work with).  We all sit round and chat until it is time for me to get into costume and run through the new lines again in the haven of my dressing room.

Chatting before the off

Getting the lines down

 

7.25, Gary is there and we go up to the main hall.  He makes his introduction and the applause of 400 people welcome me to the stage where Charles Dickens once stood.  Not a hint of any roostering from the room below.

It is a lovely stage to perform on, with lots of different levels to use.  Looking down on from the back wall are 2 portraits, one of Abraham Lincoln and one of George Washington.  I use all of my usual gestures and blocking on the stage with the result that Abe becomes Mr Fezziwig, and George the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.  Who would have thought it?

Mechanics Hall from George Washington’s viewpoint

Early on in the show a button pings off my waistcoat and lays in the middle of the stage and for the rest of the evening I am desperately trying not to step on it and crush it, as I have no spares (note to self for next year….)

The new script works very well again and the extra passages slip easily in.  It does make the tone of the first half much darker and more sinister, which is a good thing.

I break for the interval, change costume and hang my shirt to dry ready to change into it for signing later.  Replacement waistcoat with full complement of buttons and I’m ready to get back to it.  The second act has more interaction with the audience and they really come alive, rather like old Ebenezer himself!

The show finishes and there is a rousing standing ovation and lots of bows.  But the work isn’t done yet and I rush back to the dressing room, change back into costume number 1 and get to the signing table at the back of the hall.  There is a healthy queue of people wanting books, ornaments and programmes signed, as well as pictures taken.  There is an atmosphere and a buzz in the hall that is very exciting.

When the last of the audience has drifted away I go and get changed and pack up all of my belongings, scripts, cufflinks, watch, microphone and the rest of it.  Wrap my scarf around my neck and head off with Gary to join the rest of the group for a late dinner.  It is a perfect way to wind down.

The chat around the table is about everything and anything which is fun but one very rewarding comment made by both Bob and Gary is that, despite having watched my show over and over again, they couldn’t really tell where the new bits of the script were.  That means it works well and I am very satisfied.

Towards 11.30 it is time to go our separate ways and I point the Jeep towards the Beechwood Hotel, get to my room and am asleep in an instant.

With Thanksgiving past, the Christmas season is now in full swing and I am always Thankful for that.

 

 

 

 

 

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The Best of British

Having returned from America I had one day at home, relaxing before the tour continued on British soil. This is the story of a remarkable 4 days:

Wednesday: Faith and Narnia

Today I am to reunite with a remarkable team of people who are all working on a remarkable script.  Dennis Babcock, a good friend of many years standing and also a theatre producer, has long had it in mind to develop a one man show based on Charles Dickens’s little book, written for his children: ‘The Life of our Lord’. Dennis is a keen Dickensian, a lover of theatre and a devout Christian: the perfect mix for passions and talents to lead such a project.

4 years ago he decided that the time was right to begin, so he contacted well known American playwright and screenwriter, Jeffrey Hatcher, to come up with a way of telling the story of Dickens’s decision to write the story and to show how he achieved it.

Through a curious chain of events and conversations Dennis was put it touch with Dr Gary Colledge who had written his PhD on ‘Dickens, Christ and The Life of our Lord’ and who has gone on to write a second book concerning ‘God and Charles Dickens’. The perfect academic to advise on the theological aspect of the project.

Through his many theatrical enterprises over the years Dennis has met a huge number of theatre folk, including British PR guru Paul Savidant whose contact list is eye watering.  A no nonsense straight talker who knows what it takes to make a show work in a the commercial and cut throat world of theatre.

And me.

Welcome, therefore, to the team of ‘Faith’

When we last met in May The entire team spent 2 days together in Minnesota to stage a series of rehearsed ‘readings’ of the script so that Dennis, Jeffrey and Gary could get some idea as to how the show actually worked on stage: what needed changing, omitting, including and editing. By the last of those 4 readings we had found a version of the  script that worked well.  Although there were a few little tweaks that could be made here and there……

6 months on and Dennis now wants to give ‘Faith’ an airing in London, to build interest here and also to encourage investors to come aboard, so he has arranged for 2 days of performances in the Capital.

Firstly however the team meets to catch up, near my home in Oxford. Dennis has managed to secure a space in The Kilns, the home of CS Lewis, creator of the Narnia novels. I get to the house first and a few minutes later the rest of the team arrives. It is good to see everyone again.

After a brief tour of the house by the owners, we sit around the table and begin a reading. The show is in 2 acts and runs for about 90 minutes. The first act, which deals with the incidents that lead Dickens to write the story, works well and hasn’t really been touched since May.  The second act, relating to the story itself, is giving us trouble. Somehow the revisions that Jeffrey have made haven’t quite worked and the 2nd half seems unwieldy now. We finish at about 7 and then have a long discussion with the Lewis group about the show and once more Jeffrey has a sheaf of notes to convert over the next 2 days.

I drop the team off at Oxford rail station and we say our goodbyes ready to meet up again in 2 days in London. Then it is home to Liz and a curry in front of the TV: a wonderful relaxing evening. At last!

Thursday: Baldock

Today it is back to A Christmas Carol as I am to perform at the Knights Templar School in Baldock, Hertfordshire.  A few years ago at one of my shows I met a teacher, Glenn Christodoulou, who thought it would be a great idea for me to come into his school and perform for the students, as well as the parents.

For the last 4 years, as the American tours have allowed, I have been travelling to Baldock, usually jet lagged, to perform. This year there is a bonus as Liz isn’t working and can come with me. It will be the only time this season that she will get to see me perform A Christmas Carol.

We arrive at the school and are greeted by Glenn who plies us with coffee and then a light lunch before getting ready for the first performance to the year 8s (12 year olds). The 200 kids pile into the school hall creating the noise that only 200 12 years olds can create.

I have to concentrate very hard on this show, as due to the school timetable I have to run for an hour, instead of the usual 80 minutes. That means remembering to cut out the charity collector, the carol singer and all sorts of other little phrases and scenes along the way. Having just perfected the show in the USA, this requires a great effort and I mustn’t run on automatic pilot. Fortunately for me there is a clock on the back wall of the hall, so I can monitor my progress.
At the start of the show I edit like crazy but the clock tells me I’ve gone too far and am likely to finish in 40 minutes so I start editing scenes back in again as the story reaches its second half.  I hit the ‘God Bless Us, Every One’ finish line bang on the hour!

For 12 year olds they are remarkably attentive, a really quiet group, although being 12 there is plenty of sniggering every time I say the word ‘breast’, whether it is describing the Ghost of Christmas Present’s robe hanging so loosely that ‘Its capacious breast was bare!’, or simply describing Mrs Cratchit carving the goose: ‘she plunged the knife deep into the breast….’. Oh well, I’m sure I was the same at 12.

After a brief break we all pile into Glenn’s car to visit a nearby book shop and sign a few copies for their stock before having dinner at The George IV pub.

Back to the school and time to prepare for the evening performance for the general public. We get there at about 6.45 for a 7.30 show and the audience has already begun to arrive! Actually my brother, Ian and his wife Anne have arrived and soon they are joined by their friends. Another audience member arrives: Gary Colledge, who has travelled by train to London to catch the show too. At the moment the entire crowd is made up of my family and friends.

As the audience roll in I have to once more think about the show and take the opportunity to go over a few lines to myself. This is to be a new version, in 2 acts with a few more scenes added in: more of the Jacob Marley scene, more at Scrooge’s school, more at the Cratchit’s Christmas Lunch. I am really pleased with the additions; they make the show more complete and fill in some holes in the plot that exist in the 80 minute version. Frustratingly I will only be performing it twice when I return to America but it is nice to develop something that I’ve been living with for so many years.

The show gets off to a bit of a messy start in that backstage I am suddenly aware that the audience has gone quiet. I make my way into the wings and see with horror that the house lights are down and there is light on the stage. There is a nervous shuffling and even some giggles from the auditorium.  Oh! I realise that Glenn must have made my introduction without checking I was ready in the wings, so I march to centre stage, trying to look as if this is all part of the show. The centre spot light comes up and I begin: ‘I have endeavoured, in this ghostly little book, to raise the ghost of an idea……’ and so I am off once more but not a very convincing start to the proceedings.

At the end of Scrooge’s visit with the Ghost of Christmas Past, the lights fade to black and it is interval time. Glenn is backstage and it turns out that our lighting guy brought the lights down, thinking that Glenn was going to the stage to make an introduction,  just as Glenn went outside to check there were no more audience members waiting to come in. This was the precise  moment that  I came to the stage, panicked and began.    Glenn, meanwhile was ready to make his announcement and discovered that I’d started without him!

The second act is the dramatic one, the pain of the Cratchits and the terror of Scrooge. The audience are right there, living every moment, crying and laughing and at the end there is generous applause.

Unlike the USA shows, there is no formal signing session planned but there are a number of people waiting outside the dressing room with programmes and books. Liz is there, Ian and Anne with their friends are there and Gary is there. We all have hugs and then it is time to pack up and away.

It is almost a 2 hour drive and both Liz and I are very tired. The traffic is light at that time of the night and we are home before midnight and gratefully falling into bed.

Friday: Sidney McSprokett and Faith

On Friday morning I have to drive into London to perform 4 staged readings of Faith. I get my costumes and bags packed and get onto the road by 9.30. Just before I leave an email comes in from Jeffrey with the latest changes to the troublesome 2nd act. I print and bind them before driving towards London.  Fortunately there is heavy traffic and I’m able to peruse the alterations whilst sat stationary in the sprawl of London.

As I start to approach  the suburbs it strikes me how different the city driving styles are between America and England. I’m sure it is not the case but there seems to be very little, what we call, road rage in the USA.

If someone is cut up or forced to brake, well, they just brake and swerve. In London every move is aggressive, every gap to be fought over. Every victory celebrated with an arrogant burst of acceleration. Every loss angrily hooted by the cars behind. I am as guilty as anyone; it is true Darwinian survival of the fittest out there.

I make it into Central London at 11 and leave my car in a garage near Marble Arch before getting onto the tube to take me to my first appointment. This has nothing to do with ‘Faith’

For many years I have been recording the complete works of Charles Dickens as unabridged audio books. I work with a small production company in Soho called Create Media. Create also is the home of Fun FM, a digital radio station specifically for young children. One feature on Fun is a regular spot to encourage kids to show an interest in science and engineering.  It is hosted by a mad Scottish professor, Sidney McSprokett. He, if truth be told, is a bit mad.

Ladies and gentlemen, I unveil Sidney McSprokett: ME!

Today we have 5 short scripts to record and it only takes about half an hour.  It is very silly and such fun being so different to anything else that I do. The next time I will be in the studio will be to put the finishing touches to Barnaby Rudge.

Create Studio

Mad, Scottish McSprokett out of the way I have to recalibrate and make myself Charles Dickens once more. I get a cab to the Jermyn Street Theatre, just off Picadilly. The cabby is a exactly what you’d expect of the breed and keeps up a nonstop dialogue, complaining about the traffic, the state of the roads in London and the best efforts of the mayor to drive cars out of the city once and for all: ‘Boris! It’s all Boris, aint it? Eh? He wants to fill London with bikes, that’s what he’s doing. I ask you. Look, there, at them rickshaws, that’s what he wants aint it? Fill London with rickshaws. I ask you? Would YOU want to be in a rickshaw in this weather? I wouldn’t! Oh, and the Olympics, don’t get me started on the Olympics…..’ so, I don’t.

At the Jermyn Street Theatre huddled on the pavement are Dennis, Gary and Paul. Jeffery had taken Dennis’s wife, Ann, for a coffee and we have to wait until a small theatre workshop has finished on the stage. The Jermyn Street theatre is a tiny underground studio space and there is nowhere inside to congregate if the stage is being used but the manager is concerned for my performer’s throat and lets me stand in the box office, which is really the ‘bottom of the stairs’

The first London reading is to the industry and invitations have been sent to producers, bookers, actors, directors and agents. The audience isn’t huge on a wet Friday afternoon, but they certainly appreciate the show.

The reading goes well and Jeffrey’s changes have started to tighten up that 2nd half again. The audience are very generous in the praise about my performance (which is really only a slightly animated reading, we certainly haven’t done any directorial work on it at all).

Jeffrey Holland who appeared in the British Sitcom Hi-de-Hi is there with his wife and they are very keen. We chat for a while about his own one- man show based on Stan Laurel before it is time to move on out.

I have a little time to get back to my ‘club’ (rather a grand sounding title for where I am staying. But it is in the centre of London and very comfortable), drop my bags have a brief rest before heading over to the Dickens House Museum for the evening’s reading.

My cabby this time is another example of the breed, but this time in a fantastically positive way.  The direct route is Oxford Street, Piccadilly , The Strand, but it is 5pm, it will be choc a bloc.  But we dive into quiet squares and mews, avoiding the traffic and getting to the museum wonderfully early.  Not a rickshaw in sight!

The performance tonight is for a very select bunch of potential investors. People who have supported Dennis before and, of course, who he hopes will support him again.

We are performing in the newly renovated and very impressive museum housed at 48 Doughty Street, where Charles lived early on in his career, at about the time he was writing Nickleby. It certainly adds a sense of connection to the piece.

After a brief cocktail and canapé reception Dennis welcomes everyone with his speech about the show. He explains that this is still a reading, not a performance. This is all part of the writing process. Boy is it: Jeffery having given me new cuts and alterations just before we start.

Dennis’s analogy is that if we were an artist setting out to paint the Mona Lisa, the stage we are currently at is the equivalent to seeing a pencil sketch. It may be a woman. Possibly she is smiling.

The group go off on a tour of the house and I change to be able to greet them as they file into the very intimate board room, where the chairs are laid out, lighting is subdued and the ‘stage’ is as close to them as you are to your computer.

I have to say that of all the readings of Faith this isn’t my best. I take a while to get into it and I’m still trying to work my way round the scribbled additions in the margins. But I must remember it is NOT about me! It is about the script, the show, the future.

After we are finished we all go downstairs where a catering company have laid on a sumptuous dinner and we chat and share stories. It is a very pleasant evening.

When the guests have gone the team pile into 2 taxis and go to Dennis’s favourite watering hole: PJs in Covent Garden. I am in a taxi with Paul and Jeffery. Paul (London based), tells the cabby where we are going.

Dennis, Ann and Gary are in the other cab: All American. The Brits get there in 10 minutes for a fare of £10. The Yanks get there in 20 minutes paying £15. When in London, my American friends, best perfect your Dick Van Dyke Mary Poppins accent……

After a couple of wind down drinks we all drift our separate ways to clubs, hotels and homes.

Saturday: The Oak Room

One more day living with ‘Faith’. One more day of trying to put some colour into The Mona Lisa.

Nothing is due to happen until this afternoon so I am able to have a very lazy day, late breakfast, stroll around Oxford Street and Marble Arch. Do very little which is very nice.

Today our 2 readings are for the general public in the grand surroundings of The Oak Room in The Hospital Club, near Covent Garden.  I arrive at 1.30 and it is a very stylish room, with a stage and lighting at one end, but still very intimate.

The Oak Room. L-R Dennis, Paul and Gary. Jeffery is presumably making some last minute script alterations!

However. We have a panic.

Yesterday one of Paul’s contacts, from The Really Useful Group, who had been at the industry reading, had wanted to see the script. Paul picked mine up at the Museum and gave it to him. Unfortunately that was the only copy we had with all of the new additions in it. As 2.30 approaches Jeffery and I are hurriedly going through the script again, trying to remember what we had done, re creating yesterday’s script.

We only get half of it done, but at least we can get on with the first act and regroup in the interval.

Dennis makes his introduction, talks about the Mona Lisa, welcomes me to the stage, reads the opening stage direction and : ‘Disagreeable evening. Lost an argument with Swinburne over the meaning of Christ and the existence of God….’

It is one of the best shows we’ve done. Everything seems to work well. The timing is excellent, the room is excellent, the audience ( an excellent sized audience), is excellent. We have a brief Q&A after the show and there are some very valid comments, but really we are getting to the stage where Dennis needs to finalise a script. Otherwise we will keep tweaking it as a result of every comment from every audience. That pencil sketch must start to have some depth.

We have about an hour between shows, during which Jeffrey and I huddle down again to make a few more changes that came to him during the last reading.

Another goodly sized audience arrives, including Liz who has come down to London to join us all.

Oak Room take 2. Another good show and more comments during the Q&A afterwards. In this audience is one of the leading Dickens scholars on the planet, Michael Slater and he is generous and fulsome in his praise both for the piece and my performance of it, which is very gratifying.

When the evening is done we all make our way to the team hotel in Leicester Square, where Dennis, Ann, Gary and Jeffery are staying. We have a lovely dinner in an Italian restaurant, say our goodbyes and drift away into the night.

I don’t know what the next step will be for ‘Faith’ (actually one comment this afternoon concerned the name. Paul came up with a brilliant alternative: ‘To Begin With’).

Dennis will go back to Minneapolis and work with Jeffrey. I have no part in the writing, so I will wait and see if I am to be involved in the future of the project.

It has been an immensely interesting time, working with this creative team. As most of my work is very solitary both in the writing and the creation of a new show, it has been great fun to sit down with Jeffery, take the advice of Dennis, discuss the character of Dickens with Gary and talk about the theatrical possibilities with Paul. However it is definitely time for the script to move onto the next stage, to settle on a final version and to prepare it for whichever audience will come to see it. The Mona Lisa will begin to smile now.

For me it is 2 days at home before boarding the same flight I took to Boston 2 weeks ago.  On the Friday after Thanksgiving I will stand on the stage of the Mechanics Hall in Worcester, Mass. On the same stage where Charles Dickens stood.  I will look out into the same hall and I will say the same words:  ‘Marley was dead, to begin with’.  The second part of the 2013 tour will have begun.

See you there.

The Windy City

POSSESSED

Once again I beat the 5am alarm. Shower, pack, move on. As it is too early for breakfast it will be a case of ‘another morning: another muffin’.

I load the car up and try to set my recalcitrant Sat Nav unit. It works for about half a block and then fades away again. Fortunately the Omaha airport is very close and well signposted so I don’t need electronic help today. As I near the airport the malevolent thing bursts into life once more. It tries to take me to the terminal but I need to go to the Rental Car Drop Off. It whines at me: ‘Recalculating, travel .4 miles and make a U turn.’ It is still moaning at me as I drive into the garage. It berates me as I unload the car (even though the engine is off, depriving it off any power source.) As in Knoxville the Dollar Car rental counter is not manned at this hour of the morning, so I have to leave the keys and Sat Nav in a drop off box, and as I walk away towards the check in desks I can hear a small voice calling after me: ‘Make a U Turn……Recalculating……Make a U Turn…..Recalculating……Make….’. It is a possessed thing!

I find a small cafe near my gate and write yesterday’s blog while eating my muffin and then board the small plane. The flight to Chicago is a short but turbulent one. The pilot tries many different altitudes to find some calm weather but it is never really smooth.

Blogging at the airport

CHICAGO

We touch down safely in Chicago and I’m soon in baggage claim waiting for my bags. I don’t know if other travellers do this but I always secretly hope that my bags will be first to appear on the carrousel and today, in one of the busiest airports in the world I come out 1 and 3.

I am to be met by Brendan, the son of the event organiser and sure enough there he is, clinging onto a poster with me in full Victorian garb. We are to be driven into Chicago itself by a limo sent from the hotel: The Langham. Our driver is Mike and between him and Brendan various sites are pointed out and history explained.

As we get closer to downtown I begin to feel the same thrill that I had when I went to New York City for the very first time: This is what an American City should be, it’s what I’ve seen in the movies. Every stereotype and cliché is here. Rickety water towers, metal fire escapes, tightly packed tenement buildings, soaring skyscrapers and, of course in Chicago, the raised steel railroads.

LUXURY

The Langham Hotel is located in the heart of downtown and from the second that the limo door is opened for me I am transported into a world of luxury. Oh, no check in at the desk opposite the front door here! I am greeted by a slim, smiling girl who escorts me to the lifts and accompanies me to the 12th floor, where I am gently ushered into the Club lounge into the care of Carlos, the butler.

My check-in takes place while I sit sipping a delicious Americano, looking toward Lake Michigan. Carlos takes me to my suite, and takes 10 minutes to show me all of the features, including a bathroom mirror which doubles as a television.The suite has a huge living room, huge bedroom, huge bathroom, with a huge bath. A walk in shower, 2 lavatories (presumably so that I don’t have to walk all the way from the living room to the bathroom) and a wonderful mini bar cabinet with a selection of different wine glasses and tumblers as well as the usual snacks and drinks. It is a different world

Would I like anything pressed? I half think of getting my costume shirts ironed but decide I need to retain some sense of reality so do them myself.

At 11.30 I get a call to say that my car is waiting to take me to Stan mansion, where I am to perform this afternoon. Mike is my driver again and he continues his tour guide spiel as we make our way through the City. His knowledge of movies filmed in Chicago is almost encyclopaedic and I must watch The Blues Brothers and The Untouchables again soon!

STAN MANSION AND THE WINDY CITY

We arrive at the Mansion and I meet Connie and Victor for the first time and what a remarkable couple they are. Connie is Italian-American, all straight talk and nervous energy. Victor, her husband is originally from Northern Ireland and is gregarious and calm, taking all of Connie’s panics and problems and gently getting them sorted.

The Stan Mansion is a hugely impressive and imposing Victorian building. It was purchased 5 years ago and now is a venue for events, especially weddings. The main hall has a small stage at one end and a balcony at the other. The room is a hive of activity, an army of set-dressers, lighting guys, sound guys and caterers creating something very special indeed. The stage itself has been draped with red crushed velvet, and to look at it you would belive it is a genuine Victorian room. As I look round the room and take in all of the people here, I get some idea as to the commitment that Connie has made to this event. Nothing has been skimped on (my hotel included). Nothing has been left to chance. No wonder she is a bundle of nerves, she has been working towards this moment for over a year.

The Stan Mansion

The Stan Mansion

 

Victor and Connie run a company called British Taste Events which brings British culture and cuisine to Chicago. This is to be their first major event. Questions come in from all quarters: Where should I sign after the show, how should the merchandise be displayed, where will people eat? Using their complementary skills Connie and Victor get it all sorted out.

My changing room is the main office for the mansion and here I meet Cera, who owns the house. I’m aware of a terrible noise outside and can’t quite work out what it is until I realise that a storm of almost biblical suddenness and intensity has hit. The rain is lashing the streets and the wind is unbelievable. There is lightning and thunder adding to the tempest.

I get changed, and watch from the balcony as the audience arrives. They are being served Smoking Bishop (a red wine based punch, mentioned in A Christmas Carol), as they arrive and the bar is doing a good trade too. I hope everyone stays awake throughout the show.

As 1 pm approaches there are still empty seats and it seems as if a few people have decided to hunker down and not risk heading out into the Storm. It would be ironic if Connie and Victor’s efforts in Chicago are stymied by The Windy City itself.

Originally the plan was to do Mr Dickens is Coming, have a long interval and then do A Christmas Carol but I seek Victor out and suggest to him that we have a shorter interval so as not to lose anyone who may be worried about the storm and leave early

After a collection of introductions my first act is Mr Dickens is Coming. Its OK but the Microphone system isn’t quite as I like it. It is a bit ‘hot’. Boomy. But after I teach myself to moderate my projection and calm my voice down, it begins to work much better.

The applause after the first show is generous and I disappear to change costume ready for the 2nd half. Meanwhile the audience are served plates of English cheeses and fruit, as well as more Smoking Bishop and wine. Watching from the balcony it doesn’t look as if we are losing anyone and indeed the storm has abated and the sun is shining again.

A Christmas Carol is very good and powerful. The room, the set and the lighting really lend to the atmosphere. I revert to type a bit and over-project again, meaning that the microphone system is too loud again so I go through the same process of reigning myself in.

‘God Bless Us, Every One. Have a very Merry Christmas’ and the show is over. The audience who have been there for well over 3 hours stand to applaud. I take my bows and rush back to the ‘dressing room’ to change out of my sodden costume.

We have set up a table on stage for the signing session, as the backdrop is so beautiful and there is a long line waiting for me when I come back down. Lots of Brits are here. A Lady from Rochester, a lady from Sutton Coldfield. There is a goodly group from the Chicago branch of the Dickens Fellowship. There is a charming family: mother, father, 2 daughters. I know that they are charming as they say lovely things about the show and have been reading the blog, so: Hello!

The line dwindles, the room is being packed up around me and all of a sudden Connie and Victor say their goodbyes and are gone. Cera and some of the staff from the mansion are still about, so I change, pack up my things and say my goodbyes. Mike, the driver from the hotel, is there waiting and takes me back to the luxury of the Langham.

As this is my final night in the USA for now, I have a lovely long, soapy, hot bath and watch the television on (in) the mirror. The news is on and for the first time I realise how awful the storms really were. Whole communities have been flattened, at least 6 dead. Sudden tornadoes whipping up without notice all through the State. Emails start coming in, checking if I’m alright, including one from Liz in England. The news has indeed spread across the globe: It has been a major catastrophe in Illinois.

After an hour or so I dress again and head down to the stylish bar where I have a delicious dinner of slow cooked lamb shank, which falls apart with the fork.

Back in the room I pack up all of my things. Tomorrow at 6am I leave the Langham, head to O’Hare airport and home to Liz in Oxfordshire.

I will be in the UK for a week and in that time I have 2 very exciting projects. I shall tell you about them in a special ‘Best of British Blog!’ For now, thank you to everyone who has made the first part of my 2013 trip so successful and thank you to everyone who has been following along here.

Connections with London

THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE

The rigours of the murder last night have certainly taken their toll. It took a long time to get to sleep and I pinged awake at 3.30 this morning. Maybe I should resort to Charles’s favourite restorative: ‘A dozen oysters and a quart of champagne….’ I settle for a cup of weak coffee and some ginger biscuits that were part of a hamper from Susie and Lee, to welcome me to my room.

I potter and blog and line learn and backgammon and doze until 7 o’clock, before heading down to breakfast. Today there is a big college football game in town, Nebraska State vs Michigan and there are lots of guests staying ready for the match, all sporting their particular team’s colours.

After breakfast it is back to the room and start trying to tidy up and restore some sense of order to my widespread belongings. 2 shirts ironed for the day ahead, props for A Christmas Carol organised, new ink cartridge in my fountain pen, shower, get into costume. Ready.

SIGNING

This morning I am making an appearance at a Christmas gift store in a mall on the outskirts of the City and my chauffeur today is not Lee (he is going to the match), but Frank, the husband of the Historical Society’s director, Kathy.

The store is lovely and smells of Christmas, which is a scent that America manages to capture so well. Spruce, spice and orange. It is gorgeous. I take a little while to look around the shop and hanging on the wall is a frame containing what I assume are London Bus destination boards. Here I am in a shopping mall in the mid west looking at familiar London district names.

As we arrive there are already people waiting, books in hand, Byers Choice Carollers in boxes. Kathy has a table of merchandise from the shows, including a DVD of Mr Dickens is Coming (filmed at the Byers Choice Dickens bicentennial celebrations last year), and my CD recording of A Christmas Carol. Susie is there too and Cassandra made an appearance on television this morning to promote the signing. Once again the entire society has pulled together to ensure a successful event.

One lady has driven 2 hours to be there and in between telling me what she would like inscribed in her books, she orders her husband about, who has the job of recording the meeting on camera. ‘OK, this is to my son Brandon, honey take it from there, and he is 5,. Now the next one is for my niece Brittany, Honey make sure you can see his face, she LOVES acting. Just put Merry Christmas on this one, honey don’t get the light behind us. Let me see the pictures, oh let’s just take one more. OK, smile, honey, take it now…..’ Quite an operation!

The whole session is very nice. There are plenty of people coming into the shop but it is never frenetic or hectic so I have plenty of time to chat with everyone. Frank fetches me a coffee which is very welcome and the morning moves on.

A family (grandmother, granddaughter and others), come to the desk and begin to tell me their family history. Way back, in the 1860s their relative lived in Switzerland and then moved to England where she was engaged as tutor, nurse or governess to Charles Dickens’s children! They produce a page taken from an album holding small photographs with that silvery tint of age to them, carefully labelled in faded ink: ‘Dickens Children’. Another picture shows an elderly lady in a chair marked ‘Dickens Mother’. This is most fascinating and a real bonus in a small shop in the middle of America. The granddaughter promises to scan the pictures and email them to me, so I send them to the family experts and see if they are genuine.

The trade is steady and Kathy is running out of books, so a phone call is made. Lee arrives with more. He is fully dresses in Nebraska State colours, jacket and baseball cap on his head. He looks for all the world like the team’s coach.

Our session is coming to an end, and still people are arriving and more than once Frank has to go back to the car and retrieve boxes that have been packed away ready to be taken to the Field Club. One last flourish of signing and we are off.

The tiredness from last night and this morning wash over me again and I sit very quietly in the car as we make our way to the club for the first show of the day. The team are there and we all have lunch (a nice grilled chicken salad for me) and then everyone drifts away to do their thing.

I’m in costume anyway but I check the microphone system as I’m using our headset plugged into the club’s unit. All seems fine and I just watch as the audience fills the room. Today I am performing A Christmas Carol.  It is not a tea event like yesterday but the room is laid out in a theatre style. It is a goodly sized audience and the excitement of being a one man performer starts to cut in, the adrenaline starts to flow and the tiredness is forgotten for now.

It is a well tried routine now, Kathy makes the introduction, plugs the Society, thanks the sponsors and we are GO!

As I mentioned yesterday, the stage is quite narrow so there is not a huge amount of space to perform in, but it is also low so I can hop on and off, using the floor sometimes. There is a rug on the set which starts to ruck up and slip a bit, so I have to be careful of my movements around that, just one more thing to think about. Actually I’m helped in this respect when a lady in the front row chooses her moment, leans forward when I’m elsewhere on the stage and straightens the rug for me.

The Field Club Stage

The show finishes to great applause and we take questions again, before I sit at my desk, sign, smile and shake hands. The family of the Dickens tutor/nurse/governess are here and we have pictures taken together.

The show is earlier than it yesterday’s, so I have a longer break back at the hotel, a chance to lay down for a bit and have a reviving shower. At 5.40 Frank is back and we are off to the Crook House for the evening’s show which will bring to an end another successful trip to Omaha.

A CHILD’S JOURNEY WITH DICKENS

The guests are arriving, carol singers are performing beautifully on the porch and a string quartet from a local high school are playing on the stage. The night is clear, the moon is full. It is a stunning scene.

Carol Singers at the Crook House

 

Strings on Stage

 

Tonight I am performing ‘A Child’s Journey with Dickens’: the charming account of a meeting between the 10 year old Kate Douglas Wiggin (whom would later go on to write Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm), and her idol Charles Dickens. The show is a polar opposite to the violence and intensity of last night and the small room ensures that it is a very gentle and intimate performance. My ‘New England’ accent isn’t the best it’s ever been but it holds up pretty well and everyone seems to enjoy the show.

Signing, pictures, hand shaking. And as the guests leave the inevitable boxes of books are produced to be signed for future sale. As this is the Douglas County Historical Society there is a bustle everywhere and it is fun to be part of this team, albeit briefly. I certainly hope that I will be back next year to perform more from my repertoire.

It is time to leave, hugs for Kathy, Susie, Cassandra, new recruit Brooke and all of the others. Handshakes all round, including Lee who has changed from his Nebraska State gear into a sports jacket and tie. Unfortunately they lost: the only cloud in a busy, tiring but ultimately lovely day.

Murder and Mayhem in Omaha

GO WEST

It is time to move on once more and this morning I am driving to Omaha, Nebraska. The more observant among you will realise that I don’t have a car and Kimberly has to drive back to pick me up at 7.am

My hotel is actually close to the airport so we are there in good time but trying to pick up a hire car when you haven’t actually arrived by plane is not easy! We eventually have to park and take all of my luggage through a car park, across a bus station, up in a lift and finally find the Dollar Car rental desk.

I am fitted up with a Toyota Rav4, say goodbye to Kimberly and get on the road. The Sat Nav unit that Dollar has given me is somewhat temperamental and keeps losing power, so it is a bit of an effort to get on the correct road. When I do get it to work for 5 minutes I realise that it is not going to be a very difficult journey. I turn out of the airport complex and join the freeway I29 W. The message is: ‘In 161 Miles Turn Left’. My 2 hour journey utilises just the one road!

The sunrise is stunning and the road stretches way out into the distance before me. The nature of the journey, the flat plains on all sides and the names of the cities bring to mind the pioneer travellers who trekked across this most inhospitable and unpromising land, heading West in the hope of a better life. Signs for Squaw Creek, Council Bluffs, Rock Port, Mound City (which is indeed on the smallest bump in the surrounding scenery), tell their own frontier story.

The Plains

Although I am travelling representing my paternal great great grandfather, at this moment I feel a much greater kinship to my maternal one. Herbert Hoxie Hoyt was a pioneer who would have stocked up with supplies in a frontier store at Kansas City and then headed out West on the Oregon Trail. He settled in Portland, Oregon and even has an arboretum and a rose named after him there.

I love the fact that stretches of the Freeways are named after veterans and as I pass the sign announcing that I am on the ‘Sergeant Robert Kimberling Freeway’ I make a mental note to look him up and to honour his memory when I get to Omaha. (* See Epilogue)

The miles fall away and there is a minimum of traffic on the road today. I have Liz’s album playing via my iPhone and am singing away loudly to Rhapsody in Blue (Lyrics: ‘Ba Ba Ba Ba. Ba Ba Ba Ba. Ba Ba Ba Ba, Ba Ba Ba Ba Ba Ba Ba Ba B Ba Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!)

As I’m approaching my exit (well 30 miles to go, but after 130, that is getting close), the Sat Nav unit has a melt down and keeps dying on me. Panic! What am I to do? What if I get lost? Then I reflect that this is all a bit pathetic when I have been thinking of the great pioneers. OK, they didn’t have complicated intersections to deal with; they just trekked away from the sun in the morning and towards it at night.

I get myself into Omaha and thanks to the American grid system of streets easily find my way to 10th street and my hotel. The organisers of the event have ensured that I can check in early and I am in my room by 10.30.

I am in Omaha for the third time to perform for the Douglas County Historical Society which is made up of the friendliest bunch of people you could possibly imagine!

I have a couple of hours in my room and somehow manage to unpack so it looks like a bomb has hit it. I’ve been rather controlled and ordered so far on this trip but today I have reverted to type. I must be very careful that this is not where I start to leave my belongings behind when I leave.

DOUGLAS COUNTY HISTORICAL SOCIETY AND THE FIELD CLUB

My phone rings and it is Lee. For the last 2 years Lee has ferried me about to all of the events. He is a member at the Field Club, which is a where my events are based. The Field Club is a golf club and so we have plenty in common and I tell him about my plans for a new show featuring the golfing stories of PG Wodehouse. Sadly I’ve never had time in the schedule to play here, however longingly I look out of the windows of the clubhouse!

All of the main players in the Society are already at the clubhouse making preparations: Kathy, the director, Cassandra, her assistant, Susie (Lee’s wife who is my official host) and all of the rest of them, decorating, organising merchandise, laying tables. Bustling.

One of my first duties (and a very pleasant one by the way), is to be sat down and served a cup of tea in a bone china cup, poured from a real teapot. Mona prides herself on her tea and welcomes the English guest in great style!

Afternoon Tea

The event this afternoon is a tea (hosted by Mona of course) followed by a performance of Mr Dickens is Coming. The crowd pour in and are individually escorted to their tables on the arm of one of the army of volunteers. There is a great style to proceedings here. The publicity has also been very good:

’

I go to get changed, in the locker room of the golf club, and am ready for the show at 3. Kathy makes a very nice introduction and off I go. After the open spaces of the stage at John Knox last night, the riser in the Field Club function room is much smaller and my movements are limited but Mr Dickens Is Coming is more of a vocal show than a physical one, so it doesn’t make too much difference. The audience are very good, many of them have seen me perform before, so are on side and the reception afterwards is very warm and appreciative.

When the applause has died away Kathy thanks me and then invites questions from the floor which is always fun. The last question is: ‘At what age did you realise you wanted to be an actor?’ Queue long ‘nativity: playing huge over sized cockerel story’ which goes down very well and is a good way to wind up proceedings.

After the guests have left Lee takes me back to the hotel, where I have an hour before the next event. It is Laundry time again and I load up a bag of my costume shirts for the washer. Back to my room and do some line revision for one of tomorrow’s shows before transferring shirts to the drier. I realise that I am going to have to leave before they are finished, so hope that someone will realise and take them out if they need the drier.

MURDER

The evening show is in the General Crook House: a wonderful Victorian home which is one of the jewels of the society’s collection. It is a very intimate venue, with the performance itself in a tiny drawing room (actually the dining room with all of the furniture removed.) A packed, standing room only crowd of about 50.

The event starts at 6 with an hour of cocktails, hors d’oeuvres and chat. And then at 7 we all make our way into the little theatre for ‘Sikes and Nancy: the Murder’. After the fun and jollity of Mr Dickens is Coming, this is an altogether more intense and violent reading. When Charles Dickens performed it ladies would faint from the shock. Dickens himself put so much energy into the show that he often collapsed immediately after it.

Somehow this Victorian setting makes it even more real and there is a stunned atmosphere at the end. When I deliver the last, crushing line about Bill Sikes’s Dog: ‘….and falling against a stone Dashed Out His Brains!’ there is a horrified silence, followed a few seconds later by a nervous giggle and then by applause.
The party continues for a while. We have a formal toast offered by Suzy in thanks of my being there and I can feel all of the time my heart beating hard and my breath deep. I will be pumped up and buzzing well into the night I think!

The evening ends eventually and Lee takes me back to the hotel with plate loads of food from the sumptuous buffet. I stop via the laundry and my shirts are still in the drier, so I rescue them and get back to the room.

I eat my food, and slowly peel the layers of the day’s experiences off until I’m ready to sleep

 

Epilogue

I searched for Sergeant Robert Kimberling.  What a tragic story.  This is the link. It speaks for itself:

http://www.mshp.dps.missouri.gov/MSHPWeb/UltimateSacrifice/OfficerPages/sergeantRobertGKimberling.html

 

 

Shiny Head

LINE LEARNING

I slept very well. I wake at 5 which, with the hour’s change from Eastern to Central is 6 as far as my body is concerned and that is progress. By the time I return to Enlgand next Monday I will just about be fully acclimatised.

The breakfast is the usual fare including a waffle machine that makes big fluffy waffles over which I can spread butter and liberally pour syrup. I’m a pro, you know. My body is a temple.

The morning is empty for me, as there is no show until 2 and that is just around the corner so I have plenty of time. My plan is to work at some line learning for A Christmas Carol . This may seem a bit odd considering how pleased I’ve been with the performances this year but I have my reasons.

When I first performed A Christmas Carol as a 1 act, 1 man show it ran at about an hour. Over the years I have little by little slipped more and more of the original text in and now it is 1 hour 20 which is about as long as an audience can reasonably expect to be seated. Last year decided I wanted more of Marley in there, more at Scrooge’s school and some other extra bits and pieces, so have developed a longer, 2 act script which I am due to perform at The Knights Templar School back in the UK next week, as well as at The Mechanic’s Hall in Worcester, Mass and at Byers Choice.

Having got the core script working well again, now is the time to start introducing the new passages. Learning the lines is not difficult, as most of them feature in every film or stage adaptation you’ve ever seen. The tricky bit is to actually remember to say them and not fly past on the automatic pilot of my original script.

In between sipping coffee and answering emails I spend a morning with Scrooge peering at the back of his door as if ‘half expecting to be terrified by Marley’s pigtail sticking out into the hall.’

RETURN TO WOODNEATH

At 12.30 it is time to meet Kimberly for the short hop back to the Woodneath Homestead and library. There is not much to be done, the room is still set up from last night and it is a question of arranging furniture for another performance of Mr Dickens is Coming.

1 o’ clock and I have a live radio interview coming in from Chicago. I’m locked away into the Head Librarian’s office to take it. It’s a fun chat that lasts for 30 minutes and the presenter does a fantastic job of promoting the 2 events on Sunday as well as having an intelligent and well researched conversation about Charles’s life and works. Augustus Dickens gets his moment in the sun too.

Chatting to Chicago

Interview done and I have half an hour till show time, so I get back to the room, where the audience are arriving, head to my store cupboard and get changed.

As we wait for the show to start Kimberly and I discuss some ideas for possible future ventures. Maybe some ghost stories; maybe a tour group coming to England, visiting Dickens and other literary sites with me being a tour guide; maybe a tour of Dickens sites in America, following the routes of his 2 visits here. Before we know it 2 o’clock is upon us and it is time to work.

Mr Dickens is Coming goes well once more although there a couple of audience members that I’m not sure about:  there is a gentleman sitting alone in the front row looking very serious and studious. He has a folder and a pad on his knees and occasionally makes notes. It’s like taking a practical Dickens One Man Show exam! I’m painfully aware of some of the historical liberties in the script and am convinced that he will confront me later. Then, there is a lady sat in the very back, spending the entire show emailing or texting or gaming on her smart phone which is surprisingly disconcerting.

These 2 besides everyone else is having a rare old time and applaud generously at the conclusion.

SHINY HEAD

At the signing table people dutifully file past and offer their thanks and congratulations. Suddenly the studious ‘examiner’ is there. Opening his folder and pulling a sheaf of paper out: ‘Thank you Mr Dickens I thoroughly enjoyed your programme. Could I have your signature please? And he hands me a blank piece of paper onto which I scrawl GerdChlesDickens on (that’s as near as I can type what my signature looks like) and off he goes, a happy man. The Lady of the Text had stood at the end and applauded long and loud with the rest of them. Strange folk.

A mother with her 2 sons comes to the desk. The younger son, probably about 12 or 13 puts his hand out to shake mine: ‘Mister, this is meant as a compliment. Your head is REALLY shiny!’ His older brother crumples in embarrassment.

It’s time to say goodbye to all of the Librarians at this marvellous complex and head back to the hotel for an hour or so rest before the evening’s events.

THE PAVILLION AND JOHN KNOX VILLAGE

I’ve been a bit spoiled with distances during these 2 days but the evening’s show is to be held at an auditorium in Lee’s Summit a drive of…..40 minutes. Kimberly arrives a little early, as we will be driving through heavy rush hour traffic but we make good time.

Apparently Lee’s Summit has the World’s shortest St Patrick’s Day Parade. There is one bar in town so the parade starts on one side of the street, crosses it and ends in the bar.

My show tonight is not in a library, even though the event is organised by the local Mid Continent branch. The venue is the Pavilion at John Knox Village, which is a retirement community. The Pavilion itself is a huge pyramid and is used for rock concerts, opera, theatre etc. The capacity is 1000 in concert mode and for me there are 600 seats set out.

The Pavilion

I performed here last year and although it is a very intimidating space at first glance, it was a surprisingly intimate hall. A large stage is erected and the chair, stool and hat stand that make up my set look rather lost but the tech crew here is great and when the stage lights are on and the house lights are down it looks superb.

Because the guys are so professional I have decided that this should be the first event at which I try our own microphone. It has become a feature of tours in the past that some microphones are good, some are awful. Some pop and bang, others are crystal clear. Some get knocked by costume, others stay firmly anchored. After discussing the problem with Bob after last year’s tour he has taken the step of renting an excellent looking system to try out and see if it is worth investing in one for the future.

So far on the trip most of the venues have either been too small to need a mic, or have had systems built in. The Pavilion is the perfect place to test for the first time.

The stage manager/tech boss Kent looks over the pack and is impressed by what we have. He plugs everything into the Pavilion’s own syatem system and it all works very well. I’m going to wear a head microphone (apparently known as a Countryman), hooked over my ears.

The audience start arriving very early, some residents from John Knox Village and some public from the Library’s own marketing and by the time 7 pm ticks round we have about 300 in, which is a good number for A Christmas Carol this early in the year.

It is very nice to have a big stage and a big crowd to play to and I can really pull out all of the stops and give a full theatrical performance. The microphone seems to work well, although I am aware that the ear hooks are slipping sometimes although I don’t think there is any danger it actually falling off.

Another very successful and energetic evening. I spend 10 minutes in my dressing room towelling down and changing costume and then it is out to deal with the signing line. Lots of old friends and familiar faces, lots of photographs, lots of signing and questions. Nobody comments on my shiny head, which is nice.

As the signing goes on, I can feel the fatigue settling in and know I’m going to feel very stiff in the morning. More smiling, posing, handshaking. The queue for autographs is quite long but moves along quickly. Must remember that the last person in the queue deserves the same attention as the first. More so, in fact, as they’ve been waiting the longest. Having performed A Christmas Carol, of all stories, it would be poor form indeed to become short, bad tempered and dismissive! Bah, Humbug!

Signing

The last guy in the line is Don. Don is…..well, stalker is too strong a word, it makes him sound creepy, which he is not. Don has been to pretty well EVERY performance I’ve done for Mid Continent. Oh, I don’t mean the 4 this year; I mean EVERY one for the past 18 years or so. Every time he has something signed, asks if I’ve got a DVD of the show yet, tries to convince me to perform for the Kansas City Library Service, much to Kimberley’s constant irritation. At this afternoon’s show he’d given me a brochure for the Kansas City Repertory Theatre Company’s brochure and put his name and contact details on it: Don McLean. No, surely not……

We finally get packed up and Kimberly takes us to an Italian restaurant for a brief bite to eat and then drives me back the 40 minutes to the hotel before turning round and driving back the 40 minutes to her home in Lee’s Summit.

I have another early start in the morning, so get my packing done and then get straight to sleep.

Flight to Missouri

FLIGHT TO MISSOURI

3 days in a single city is quite a luxury and it seems strange to be moving on from Tennessee but the tour rolls inexorably on and, on the whole, it would be a good thing to keep up with it.

The wisdom of staying close to the airport is evident as the alarm goes off at 5.45.  The thought of it happening an hour earlier, as would have been the case if I’d stayed in Pigeon Forge itself, is too horrible.

I am too early for the, no doubt delightful, Candlewood Suites Continental Breakfast and I will just need to pick something up at the airport.  I finish my packing, making sure that I have got all of my chargers, adapters, leads, watches, wallets, pens and anything else that I usually leave in a Hansel and Gretel like trail behind me and haul the bags to the car.

It has been a cold night and the windscreen is iced up so I start the engine and let it run while I load up.  The journey to the airport is a 2 minute one, but I have to top the car up with fuel so need to find a local gas station.  That takes me down the freeway for .4 of a mile.  Top up and pay.  The route back to the airport takes me right past the hotel again: it is all most complicated at 6.30 in the morning.

I drop the car off and, as the desk isn’t open yet,  drop the keys into a metal box before checking in for my flight and clearing security.  As I mentioned 3 days ago, Knoxville airport is so small that the whole process of arriving to being at the gate is achieved in no time at all.  Unfortunately none of the restaurants are open but I do manage to get a coffee and a muffin from Starbucks.  I sit at the gate at try to eat the muffin which disintegrates all over the place.  The ring of crumbs will remain at Knoxville airport, a brief reminder of my presence there until they are swept away.

The first flight, departing at 7.47 is just a tiny hop over to the main hub airport of Atlanta, where I have an hour or so before my connecting flight to Kansas City.  As we taxi out, the captain comes over the tannoy to announce that air traffic control is holding us on the ground because of high volume of traffic in the Atlanta area.  I am fortunate in that I have a decent amount of time but instantly the atmosphere in the plane becomes more tense as those with tight connections start to worry.  Watches are checked, and mobile phones pressed into action.  And still we sit.

Eventually we start to roll again and are on our way, once more soaring above the Smokys.  The flight and approach to Atlanta are smooth and trouble free but as we taxi up to our gate there is another plane occupying it.  More delay.  Then the captain announces that rather than waiting, we will taxi to another gate.  More delay.  The tension from Knoxville has ramped up a few notches now.

Over the years this has happened to me any number of times and I have come to realise that if 1 plane is delayed into a major airport then the chances are that ALL planes are delayed and the connections will work out in the end.

I can’t speak for anyone else but that was certainly the situation in my case and I arrived at gate E25 in plenty of time.  The difference between a major airport such as Atlanta and the cosy regional’s such as Knoxville is amazing.  It is so busy here, everyone moving everywhere.  Passengers. Flight crews. Cleaners. Empty Wheelcahirs being pushed.  Buggies with Beepers weaving through the forest of people.  Urgency. Panic. At every gate people are either waiting patiently to be called or starting to dance the Zone Dance vying for the overhead space in the plane itself.  Crying children. Laughing children.  It’s all here.

My flight is called and this time I’m in Zone 2 .  Its not a good effort today and I am about 6^th on although there is plenty of space for my bag and my top hat.  This is a longer flight, about an hour and a half and I settle down to Bill Bryson, an orange juice and some peanuts.

Delta Airlines

 

MID CONTINENT LIBRARY SERVICE

As we arrive into Kansas City there is a wonderful feeling of familiarity about it, another small and friendly airport. And there waiting for me is Kimberly Howard an old friend who has been looking after me here for more years than either of us would wish to name.  I have no hire car and Kimberly will be ferrying me about all over the place for the next 2 days.  It is so nice to walk out of an airport and see a smiling face!

I have been coming to the Kansas City area for as long as I have been travelling to the USA.  In 1995 I appeared at the Dickens on the Strand festival in Galveston, Texas, taking over from my Dad who had attended on three occasions.  Out of the Galveston festival had grown a similar fair in downtown Kansas City which was held the following week and I was invited to attend that also.

The Dickens on the Strand festival finished on a Sunday and the Kansas City Holiday Fair started on the following Friday so there were a few odd days during which I was doing nothing.  Rather than just leave me mouldering in a hotel room, the organisers ‘leant’ me out to a major library service based in Independence, Missouri and so begun a relationship that lasts to this day.  Even after the Holiday Fair ceased to be, I still travelled each year and performed in various branches of the Mid Continent Library Service.

The Mid West is flat.  The spaces are vast.  Scattered around Kansas City are many many smaller communities (each one 40 minutes away from anywhere else it always seems to me!), and one of the major social hubs of each of these communities is the library.  Some branches are tiny, some more impressive but all serve a vital function.  Aside from the lending and IT sides to the business, Mid Continent offer a massive variety of events, with speakers, authors and story tellers and it is as part of the events  programme that I come here.

ANTIOCH

From the airport we have no time to get to my hotel so drive straight to the first venue in Antioch where I am due to perform for a group of students brought in.  I am going to do the same programme that I performed at the Vocational High School in Westfield a few days ago but as the audience starts to arrive there seems to be a great lack of students and a large amount of adults.

Apparently plans were scuppered by the big yellow school busses!  It is those busses that wield real power in the USA and the show would have ended too late for them to transport all of the students home, so their attendance had to be cancelled at the last minute.

With 2 minutes to go, I survey the crowd and ask Kimberly if it would be better to change the show to ‘Mr Dickens is Coming’ instead?  It is still a life and times show, as had been billed and much more suited to the actual audience there rather than the non existent schools group.  We make a decision: Mr Dickens is Coming it is.  I hide my white fluffy cat on the stage ready for the Bond passage (you have to see the show) and off I go.

It was the correct decision.  Mr Dickens is Coming is a great success.  There are many people there who have seen me multiple times in multiple branches performing A Christmas Carol and they loved seeing something a little different.

When all of the handshaking and signing is finished Kimberly can finally drop me off at the hotel, where I have a couple of hours to relax a bit.  I’m rather surprised to find a printed Post-It Note on my bed saying : ‘Duvet Covers & Sheets are Clean for your Arrival’.  This seems an odd thing to point out, I would hope they are clean!  Where will this end?: ‘We have left the soiled, stained and sweaty  sheets from the previous guests on your bed to help save on laundry thereby helping the environment.’   Harrumph.

Thank Goodness!

 

WOODNEATH HOMESTEAD

 

At 6.45 I head to the lobby and Kimberly is waiting to drive me the 5 minutes to our evening venue.  This is at a new branch and one which the Library Service is justifiably proud of.  In 2008 the service purchased the Woodenheath Homestead that had been built in 1855 and is listed on the National Historic Register.  Through extensive renovation and imaginative architecture the Original home has been surrounded by a modern, state of the art library and is now a wonderful historical resource as well as the lightest, brightest most welcoming library you could wish to see,

I am greeted by the two smiling librarians Chris and Sandi who cannot do enough to make me welcome.  I test their microphone system, which works superbly and go to change.  Sadly Libraries on the whole are not blessed with theatrical dressing rooms, but the large store cupboard is definitely an improvement on rest rooms and closets where I sometimes find myself.

Changing Room

The crowd, which is restricted in number to 200 by Fire regulations, arrives in good time and soon there is a buzz of expectation in the air.  7 o’clock arrives and the show starts.  I’ve been very pleased with the performances so far this year and this one is no exception.  I can feel I’m working hard and my voice is holding up well after the early scares at the beginning of the trip.  The audience response is overwhelmingly positive both during the show and at its conclusion .

For the first time this year I utilize the second costume as my ‘signing costume’, meaning that I don’t have to  sit in a damp shirt and suspenders (now, UK readers. Behave!), for an hour or so.  It takes me 10 minutes or so to change and the queue is waiting patiently with their books, magazines, tickets etc.

At about 9.30 the audience has left and I change back into civvies.  Kimberly takes me to a nearby restaurant for dinner and then it is back to the hotel to sleep another satisfied sleep.

Day Off: Boz, Jarley and Kong. Injury Lawyers

Well! I have a day off. Where did that week go? It seems extraordinary that a week ago I was flying in from England and now I’ve got 3 venues in 2 states under my belt and the 2013 tour is gathering momentum.

Breakfast at The Inn at Christmas Place is as fun as yesterday with lots of conversations with audience members. Sadly, though, my stage has been packed away and the breakfast room is a theatre no longer. I will move on to new venues and the hotel will have new guests and other events. Our orbits have touched for 2 brief days and now we both go spinning off until we meet again next year.

I do have a few housekeeping affairs to look after today but essentially it is a free and relaxing day. The first job is to sign Kristy’s books and I gently work through them for half an hour or so. I manage to finish that task just as a phone call comes in from a journalist in Chicago. He is working on a story about Charles Dickens’s brother, Augustus Dickens who lived and died in Chicago. Augustus, as a child, had the nickname that Charles would eventually take as a pen name: Boz. Augustus was known in the family as Moses (after a character in Oliver Goldsmith’s ‘The Vicar of Wakefield’), being a child he had trouble pronouncing Moses and, with the help of a sinus problem, the name came out as Boz and the rest of the family, Charles included, made gentle fun of him. There. That’s where Boz comes from. What a hugely educational blog this is!

Following that call it is time to do the next load of laundry but unfortunately the drier is out of order, and there’s no point in carting a load of soaking wet clothes around the country, so I will think again on that plan.

Another 2 interviews, these both for radio stations about my events immediately after Thanksgiving, back in Massachusetts, and I’ve done my chores.

I spend a little time in the room, playing some online backgammon and packing the cases for my next leg before checking out of the hotel at lunchtime.

Having admired King Kong in the rooftops as I drove into Pigeon Forge, I decide to pay a visit to the Hollywood Wax Work exhibition and spend a silly 40 minutes trying to work out who on earth some of these models are supposed to be! Mrs Jarley, from The Old Curiosity Shop comes to mind:
‘I never saw any wax-work, ma’am,’ said Nell. ‘Is it funnier than Punch?’
‘Funnier!’ said Mrs Jarley in a shrill voice. ‘It is not funny at all.’

‘Oh!’ said Nell, with all possible humility.

‘It isn’t funny at all,’ repeated Mrs Jarley. ‘It’s calm and — what’s that word again — critical? — no — classical, that’s it — it’s calm and classical. No low beatings and knockings about, no jokings and squeakings like your precious Punches, but always the same, with a constantly unchanging air of coldness and gentility; and so like life, that if wax-work only spoke and walked about, you’d hardly know the difference. I won’t go so far as to say, that, as it is, I’ve seen wax-work quite like life, but I’ve certainly seen some life that was exactly like wax-work.’

When I emerge from the building there are snow flurries in the air and the weather has closed in obscuring the mountains.

I’m driving back to Knoxville airport and staying in a hotel there tonight, so that I can be ready for an early flight tomorrow but on the way I need to stop at Walmart to buy…..ah, here we have a moment where England and America are two nations divided by a common language. I am buying a set of braces. Now, the American readers will assume I’m undertaking a corrective dental plan. So, I will say I am buying some suspenders. Now, the English readers will assume I’m undertaking a period of cross-dressing. Oh dear.

The one item of clothing I failed to double up on for my dual costume plan was a set of braces/suspenders. The ones I am using were purchased at Walmart last year and have a very strong clasp on them so I was keen to get a second set. Sure enough the same make is available and my twin costumes are complete.

Back on the road to Knoxville and I love the various road signs and advertisements that we just wouldn’t see in England. Along the route old derelict barns have been used for advertising purposes. “See Rock City” daubed in white paint on a black background. No hint of where Rock City might be, how to get there, what it is, how to contact it. It is only later, online, that I discover it is 150 miles away in Georgia!

Other signs: ‘For Sale: Peacocks & Horses’; ‘DIVORCE $299 plus court costs’; on a Church: ‘Count Your Blessings. Re-counts allowed’ and many more.

No foot of advertising space is missed out, from the shiny corporate to the hand painted placards. Huge billboards with well groomed Personal Injury Attorneys smiling reassuringly down at the drivers. Signs for restaurant chains, banks, gas stations and all the rest of it. One long strip mall from Pigeon Forge to Knoxville but on the way using roads such as ‘Forks of the River Parkway’ giving a hint as to how life was before the great God Retail took over.

I arrive at the Candlewood Suites motel and discover that not only does it have a fully functioning guest laundry but it is complimentary: my joy is unbounded!

Having achieved a full case of clean clothes again I take one more telephone interview, this one for the Omaha event in a few days time and then head out to get a bite to eat at Applebee’s: as delicious steak and cheesecake.

Back at the hotel I iron costume shirts for tomorrow, pack up the cases, set an alarm for 5.45 (AM) and have an early night. Tomorrow it is off to the Mid West.

700 Club. Pigeon Forge Day 2

How nice not to be travelling. How nice to know that I have a morning of nothingness. How nice.

5am.

Oh, well! I have plenty of time to drink coffee, watch the unfolding news on television and catch up with emails, the blog and some reading.

When it seems as if I’ve arrived at a sensible time I have my shower and head to breakfast and this is NO motel breakfast! It’s a buffet, certainly, with the usual cereals, juices, bakery items and coffee but there are also 2 service stations in full swing. One is making omelettes with a huge range of most unbreakfast-like ingredients, whilst the other offers eggs, potatoes, hash browns, country ham, carved off the bone, sausages and grits.

Right I am a Brit. Tell me, someone, what are Grits? Are they hunted, is there a Grit season? If there has ever been a breakfast product with a less appetizing name I’d like to hear of it. Grit is what you find on the street, a fine gravel. There are some things that I have never got to grips with during my time here. Football (where the plays seem to spend most of the time with the ball in their hands) and Grits.

I get myself an orange juice and some granola and make my way to the overflow eating area, which also happens to also be ‘my’ theatre. It’s very odd to be munching breakfast with the stage set in front of me and I find myself looking at it to see if there is any other business I can do during the show. Switch off!

One of the nice things in staying at a venue overnight is that most of the guests enjoying their own breakfasts were at the show last night and give me cheery good mornings and share their thoughts. It’s certainly very good for the ego.

After breakfast I return to my room and generally relax until 12.30 when it is time to get into costume once more and walk across the street to the retail store itself: The Incredible Christmas Place. I am to be in the store for 2 hours from 1-3, signing books and Byers Choice Carollers.

The shop is amazing, a cathedral of light and glitter. Each area is a slightly different theme but everywhere you look there are lavishly decorated trees and garlands and ornaments. I am situated in the Byers Choice section and a desk is set up complete with copies of A Christmas Carol as well as the most amazing pop-up book of the story. It’s actually a very clever publication in which the ‘paper engineer’, Chuck Fischer, has produced the most complicated pop ups I have ever seen, depicting famous scenes from the book but also has included on each page a little booklet with the unabridged text for the relevant stave, complete with the original John Leech illustrations. 2 for the price of one.

Kristy Elder is on hand to look after me and the passing trade is steady but never manic so it is an easy session. After a while the crew from the 700 Club arrive. The 700 Club is Christian TV networks who are filming an interview with me this afternoon based on A Christmas Carol, to be screened over Christmas. There are 5 members of the team and for a while, when they gather round the table, it is if my security detail has arrived and is protecting me from hardened Christmas shoppers! Kristy gently suggests that they move away from the desk a little and the signing continues.

We all chat a bit and make arrangements for the interview later and the crew disappear to set up whilst I remain at the store signing away until the clocks strike 3 and I head back across the street to the hotel and a quick chicken sandwich before heading down to record the interview.

As is always the way with television there is much delay while the lights are made quite perfect. When I’m sat in my seat the interviewer, Dan Reany notices some glitter on my forehead, which must have come from one of the decorations in the shop and needs removing to prevent glare in the camera. No, I know what you’re thinking but it WAS glitter creating the glare!

Glare

We are ready to roll. Stop. Too much glare from the forehead, we need make up. This time I have no excuse, I’m afraid, just glare. I put it down to repeated use of a top hat.

The interview is fun and we talk a lot about A Christmas Carol, Dickens’s own childhood experiences, his writing of The Life of our Lord and my own performance. We are constantly interrupted by various clocks chiming but we wrap it all up in good time and I’m able to go and have a bit of a lie down before the evening show.

The routine is becoming familiar now, bed, snooze, alarm, hot shower/cold shower and costume ready for the evening’s fun. Immediately I get downstairs I can see that this is a much bigger audience than yesterday’s shows. The whole routine starts up again, Dwight’s chat and banter from the stage, Kristy and I handing out the books etc to the lucky package holders and still the audience come in.

The show tonight is being filmed for the 700 Club feature, so it is good that there are plenty of people here. Suddenly before I know it, it is 8.00 and I’m on.

Whether it was the extra crowd, or the cameras I don’t know, but the performance seemed to be an extra step up tonight. It may be of course that everything is becoming more finely honed but the story seems to zip through at a great pace. I can tell I’m working hard as the sweat starts to sting my eyes. The audience play along with all the parts they should play along with (OOOOOOOHHHHH and AAAAAHHHHHing over the Cratchit’s Christmas goose and joining in with the ‘NOOOOOO BOB!’ when Bob Cratchit fails to arrive for work on Boxing Day). There are sobs as Bob mourns Tiny Tim and laughter as Scrooge struggles with his coat.

Every now and then everything ‘clicks’ and this show was just such a time.

After I’ve delivered the final line and gratefully taken the very generous applause I make my way out to the lobby and towel myself down. I am drenched! Kritsy keeps the audience in the room for a while handing out door prizes etc, which gives me plenty of time to calm down but the adrenaline is still flowing full tilt and I find that I’m pacing up and down, full of energy.

A murmur of voices alerts me to the fact that the doors are open and I take my seat behind the desk for the signing session. It is amazing how far people will travel to visit the Christmas Place and lots of the audience have seen me in other venues over the years. Tonight’s signing line is longer and busier but everyone is in good spirits and friendships are forged back in the queue as people strike up conversations (the Americans are MUCH better at doing that than us reserved Brits!). Cameras are swapped and pictures taken. ‘Could you dedicate that to Betty?’; ‘Hi, loved the show, this is for my cousin, she lives in Florida, this is the perfect gift, her name? Oh she is Debbie’; ‘Oh could you just put a date on that?’; ‘Do you mind signing 5 books? Oh, that is so sweet of you. Now, the first one is for my grandchildren, they are…..’ and so it goes on for an hour or so but gently the queue shortens and then there is no one left except Kristy and all the folk from The Inn at Christmas Place.

I can feel myself fading. I’m ready to go. We all chat and hug and say our goodbye’s and promise to be here again next year. Kristy asks if I’d mind signing a few more books for next year’s package winners and says that she will send them up to my room rather than do them here.

Once back in room 416 I change gratefully and hang the costume up to dry and then there is a knock at the door: a bellman with a cart containing 7 large boxes of books. They can wait until the morning for I can hear the siren call of the Mellow Mushroom reaching out to me.

Pigeon Forge

When I first receive my schedule for the tour, I look through it and pinpoint ‘difficult’ days. Today is the first of those.

The facts are as follows: a drive from Marlborough to Logan airport in Boston for an 8.am flight. A 45 minute transfer at Charlotte airport for me and my bags. Arrive at Knoxville at 12.15, hopefully reunited with luggage, pick up a hire car and drive 45 minutes to Pigeon Forge. Sound/stage check at 1.30. Show at 3. Signing till 5. Show at 8.

In a day like this there are so many things that COULD go wrong and I almost set in motion that chain of events last night by setting my alarm clock for 5pm, not 5 am. Fortunately, very fortunately my sleeping patterns are still not quite settled down and I wake at 4.45.

Because of the early start I do not have the pleasure of the Fairfield Inn breakfast this morning, but get straight on the road. Whilst driving I’ve been listening to a strange collection of American music via my iphone: blue grass from ‘O Brother, Where Art Thou?’, The Monkees, Louis Jordan, The Crew Cuts and the Inkspots. This morning however is much more special. I have ‘Gershwin: New York Collections’ played by Elizabeth Hayes. It is a stunning CD which I adore listening to when I drive and includes some Joplin and Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. I’m also in the very fortunate situation to share my life with Liz and hearing her play is a beautiful connection to home.

The drive into Boston is easy, it is a Sunday so there is no commuter traffic filling the many tunnels that now run under the City.

I bid a sad farewell to my Chevy Suburban, my tour of duty at an end and lug my luggage (is that why it is called luggage?) into the terminal. I have time to grab an orange juice and Danish before boarding the flight.

With flights being boarded by zone numbers these days, it is always imperative to be at the front of your particular zone when it is called forward, or the chance of finding any space for carry-on bags is next to none. So there has developed a sort of ritual, a dance if you will. Let me explain: I, say, am in Zone 4 so remain seated while Zones 1 and 2 are called, but when 3 is announced I’m on my feet, scanning the crowd: who else is hovering, waiting. The queue of 3’s moves slowly, where is the end? Who is the last 3? Is the lady with the rucksack in fact a 4? If so I need to be in front of her when the announcement comes. WAIT, who’s the businessman making a fast move on the outside? No, he’s first class, running late, let him go, not our fight. The 3s are dwindling, now to circle round, stand close to the podium. The US Airways rep is picking up the Microphone, start walking, get in line, eyes front: ‘We would like to board Zone F….’ and MOVE. Blast! Rucksack has beaten me to it, but second, a silver, is good.

The whole thing is rather like the start of an ocean going yacht race, everyone trying to be first over the start line.

The morning is lovely and the view of Boston, the docks where I have arrived on cruise ships in the past and the glorious New Englad coast line is stunning. I settle down to read my book, Bill Bryson’s latest offering: ‘One Summer: America 1927” which as ever is such a good and easy read. The early morning catches up with me a bit and I drop into a fitful doze until we start our descent into Charlotte.

The plane is on time so there should be no trouble making the connection and I have time to stroll from B concourse to E through one of my favourite airports in the world. The main hub from which each concourse radiate, is a mainly glass covered atrium, with trees growing, birds flying about and white rocking chairs as seating. It’s very Southern. I’d expect the McDonalds concession to be serving McJuleps.

Charlotte Airport

The second flight of the day is on a tiny jet and takes us across the Smoky Mountains to Knoxville, Tennessee. Again the view is astounding and I can only guess how it must have looked a month ago. I’ve driven in the Smoky Mountains in the Fall before and I think they give New England a run for its money.

The Smoky Mountains

The airport at Knoxville is gloriously small and within 15 minutes of getting off the plane, I’m getting into my next hire car: a Nissan Xtera.

The journey into Pigeon Forge is about 45 minutes, and all of the time the purple outline of the mountains sit on the horizon.

And then I am there. Pigeon Forge. How to explain it? Pigeon Forge sits on the edge of the Smoky Mountain National Park and is basically a strip in a Vegas sort of way. As you drive into the town there is a white mansion, with pillars and a portico over the main entrance. Nothing odd in that, except it is upside down. Further along is the Titanic. I mean, the Titanic! Sailing on, water splashing over the prow, iceberg firmly attached to the starboard side. On the other side of the street King Kong towers over the street, clinging onto the New York skyline with one hand, clinging onto a bi plane with the other.

Pigeon Forge.

Oh, and it is the location for Dollywood, the Dolly Parton Theme Park.

Pigeon Forge.

I love it!

I have been coming here for 4 years now (twice last year) and always enjoy returning. I admit on my first visit I was appalled, as many of you may be reading my description but there is a sense of joy here and a huge sense of friendliness. It is, after all, in Tennessee with its good ol’ southern hospitality.

I am engaged by The Incredible Christmas Place, which is a huge store selling EVERYTHING Christmas. The store grew to be so popular that the owners built a hotel across the street called The Inn at Christmas Place and that is where I will be staying and performing for the next 2 days.

I arrive at 1.30, for a 1.30 sound check.

The welcome is so warm. No, actually, that’s wrong. It’s not warm in a ‘welcome to our hotel, have a nice day’ sense. It is if I’m a member of the team here, just turning up for work. ‘Hi Gerald, great to see you! You want to drop those bags here? Kristy is downstairs, go and say hi! Anything we can do?’ However tired I may be feeling, the whole atmosphere is energising.

I go down to the lower floor where my contact here, Kristy Elder, is putting the final touches to the ‘theatre’. It is actually a breakfast room for the hotel but Kristy and her team are expert at decorating and creating Christmas scenes, so the room has been transformed. The set has a huge fireplace and mantelpiece, with a chiming clock on top. There are Christmas garlands and a lavishly decorated tree. We’ve done this 4 times before so there is nothing to be discussed or changed really and being a small room I do not need a microphone, so there is no technical stuff to be sorted either.

I have about 40 minutes to have a quick shower, get changed and then be on parade as the audience arrives.
Kristy and the team have offered some special packages to audience members who have booked early or have been to the shows before and they get to sit in the front row and are presented with signed books, my CD of A Christmas Carol, this year’s Byers Choice special edition Caroller (Nephew Fred) and some ornaments from the store. It has become a tradition over the years that I present them.

Everything in Tennessee is ‘family style’ it’s all ad hoc and friendly so we are all in the room together, chatting and bantering as the audience takes their seats. Dwight, another member of the team stands on stage and chats to the audience as they come in (he has the BEST Tennessee accent you have ever heard) and by the time the start point arrives we are all the best of friends.

Dwight does warm up

The show itself is OK, but I am struggling with energy and voice, as I feared. It’s a little husky and strained which means that some of the characters are not as clearly defined as I would like them to be. Some of the females especially become squeaky. But it is very nice to do a full length, hour and 20 minute stage show, using the space, using the props, using the audience. By the end I’m fully into it, sobbing real tears for Tiny Tim and sweating profusely (I would imagine the folks in the front row will try NOT to get the special package next year!)

After the show I have a brief signing session in the main lobby, overlooked by a three story high German Glockenspiel . Because of our pre show routine, the signing session is very friendly and there are lots of nice comments about the show, which is always heartening.

After half an hour or so, I can get back to my room and have some much needed rest. I read a bit. Write a bit. Snooze a bit. And then it is 7pm, time to get into costume once more.

In the past it has been a question of sliding back into a still-damp costume for the second show but this year I am travelling with 2 identical outfits. I’ve had 2 new waistcoats made, 2 cravats. I have 2 black frock coats, 2 pairs of striped trousers. I can’t tell you how nice it was to slip into a fresh, dry costume. Actually, yes I can: Its very nice.

Downstairs and into the familiar routine again, chatting, laughing, handing our books. Banter. Dwight doing his warm up act. Kirtsy dealing with all the guests with a smile. Familiar faces from previous years. Handshakes. Hugs. Smiles.

The evening show is much better. The brief rest has done me a great deal of good and I’m much more pleased with the result. The audience is very responsive and laugh loudly and join in as Scrooge makes his journey. It is a really fun evening.

After the signing session, which is a little longer this time, I realise that I haven’t eaten anything today other than a sandwich munched in the car on the drive from the airport. The hotel doesn’t have its own on site restaurant but there is a pizza place next door, with the great name of ‘The Mellow Mushroom’. I have popped in there on many an occasion and it feels as if I’m illicitly sneaking out of a dorm at night.

I sit at the bar with a Calzone and a glass of wine and bring the curtain down on a long, tiring day which in the end worked very well. Very well indeed.