A Few Secrets and a Memory of Dad

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge, Rochester Dickens Festival, The Berkshires Magazine, Ventfort Hall Mansion

Although my only performance on Thursday would again be at 7pm, I had to be at Ventfort Hall at 8.30 in the morning for an interview and photo shoot. I had a small breakfast of yoghurt, granola and fruit and returned to the room to get ready. Outside it was very cold in fact the remaining puddles from Wednesday’s rainstorm were now solid ice, and when I tried to open the car door, I found that I could not. At first I assumed the lock had failed, or the remote key was low on battery, but I soon realised that the door had an effective seal of ice, and it took a good deal of force to break it, and gain access to the Santa Fe (maybe, bearing in mind the season, it should be a Santa Sleigh instead?)

It is always a nice feeling, when I have been to a city multiple times, to set off on the journey from hotel to venue without needing any digital aid to navigate me there. Such is the case in Lenox, although admittedly the journey is not a complicated one, involving only one turn, but still there is a feeling of belonging when you can just jump in a car and know where you are going.

I arrived at the Hall at the same time as Haley and waited as she unlocked the venerable old building and switched the lights on. I went upstairs and got into costume and by the time I was ready I could hear Haley welcoming Anastasia Stanmeyer, the journalist from The Berkshires Magazine. We shook hands and she immediately got down to work, starting with taking a whole series of photos to accompany the article. Firstly, I stood on my set, in front of the red curtain that Haley had fixed in front of the windows to provide a suitably theatrical backdrop. I did some Scrooge faces, as well as a few posed portraits of the real me (whoever HE is?) Next Anastasia wanted to move to other areas of the house (the article, of course, being just as much about promoting Ventfort Hall as my shows). I walked about and down the long hallway leading to the Billiard Room, and then posed in front of a great stone fireplace while Anastasia called out various emotions which I had to instantly reflect in my pose and expression, it felt rather like being at drama school!

With the photo shoot done (all on her phone, for long gone are the days of hours waiting for photographic lights and flash units to be erected, readings to be taken and a single image being captured before setting up again somewhere else), we sat down in the library, or auditorium as I like to think of it, and began to chat about the show and my career. One question that she asked, which interestingly has become increasingly common this year, was ‘what is your favourite part of the show?’ The answer is a scene when nothing is happening at all, there are no words being spoken, and no action, indeed no movement. I speak of the moment that The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come leads Scrooge back to the Cratchit’s house and simply points straight forward (over the spot on the stage where both Marley’s and Scrooge’s graves are placed). The line is, ‘It was quiet. Very quiet’. and I hold the pause. If everything has gone well up to that point you can feel the silence in the room, almost heavy in its intensity, and it is an amazing experience for a performer to know that an entire audience is almost breathless with fear and anticipation.

I also shared some of my ‘secrets’ about playing multiple characters, citing the conversation between Ebenezer and the charity collector on Christmas morning, during which old Scrooge holds his hat and cane together in his left hand, while the collector holds the hat in his left hand and the cane in his right. It is a simple device, and one that maybe an audience doesn’t really see, although they are aware that there is something different between the two gentlemen. And these are the kind of details and secrets that you will be able to read in my new book, available next year!

When the interview was finished, and thank-yous exchanged, I went back to change, The Hall was now open to the public, so I wouldn’t be able to leave my costumes on the chaise longue, but Haley told me that I could hang them in a large wardrobe in the room, where they looked as if they may feature in a new Narnia novel.

I drove back to the hotel, and did a little work before heading out for a lunch date. A very dear friend of mine, Jeneene Brengelman had flown in from Cincinatti with her companion Tom, to see my show. Jeneene has often travelled over to England for the annual Dickens Festival in Rochester each June and became very much a part of the regular crowd of characters, which is where we met. After years of hoping that I may perform in her own city, she decided to come to Massachusetts instead, and very kindly extended an invitation to lunch. We were due to meet at Electra’s Cafe, which was only a matter of a few minutes from my hotel. At 1 o’clock I pulled into the parking lot, locked the car door and walked into the building, only to discover that I had nonchalantly strolled into a cannabis store (legalisation of recreational cannabis in the state and the ability to buy it from an outlet was passed in 2018, and such shops are now as prevalent along the way as popular fast-food chains). Quickly realising my mistake, I exited and took the adjoining door which opened to a much more familiar scene, and there were Jeneene and Tom waiting for me. Jeneene makes wonderful Christmas ornaments and presented me with a special one featuring a family of four snowmen and a snow cat, with all of our names written around the frame – it will hang on our tree this Christmas! We sat down, and they told me about their nightmare journey of the day before, when they had been due to fly to Albany and then drive to Lenox. In the height of the rainstorms that had hit the region, their pilot had taken the decision that it would not be safe to fly, and so the plane had trundled back to the terminal, where they had to wait for a much later departure, meaning a very late arrival at their B&B, which was all locked up. I was truly fortunate that my flight from Virginia had been on the day before the storm hit, or I may have been describing a similar tale of woe. Soon the conversation was flowing, mainly with reminiscences from Dickens festivals in the past. Many years ago, Jeneene had sent me a picture taken at one of the festivals of me and my dad, and it is a picture I treasure, for his is very obviously looking out for me, making sure that everything was OK, without taking over – his support at that time, when I was finding my feet in what was a new departure for me, was essential for the success that followed. I owe him so much.

Looking at the picture now, so many years on, how slim I was and even had a sort of a fringe!

As we talked, we ate a delicious lunch, which for me featured my regular fare on the day of a show, a large salad with grilled chicken.

It was a lovely diversion and break to my day, and great to catch up with Jeneene and to meet Tom, who would be coming to the show at Ventfort that evening (having managed to change their tickets from the night before when they were stuck at the airport)

I went back to my room again, and actually had a short nap, before watching another extraordinary football match, this time Japan managing to beat Spain, thereby knocking Germany out of the tournament – it is turning into quite an interesting World Cup all things considered.

I drove back to Ventfort at around 5pm, and there were festive flurries in the air, not enough to make driving dangerous, but enough to make the town look extremely Christmassy. There wasn’t much to do when I arrived, for I had made sure the set was in place that morning, but it is always good to check so as not to be caught out, and everything was just as I had left it. I chatted with Haley, Leah and various volunteers who would be helping that evening, but even as we spoke the door opened and the first audience members arrived (actually, Jeneene and Tom). It was time to withdraw and to change. My costumes were hanging in the wardrobe, but I wasn’t transported to a magical land to be greeted by Mr Tumnus, which would have made for a very interesting blog post, but simply got changed into the meet and greet costume, without the Velcro attached.

As soon as I walked down the stairs, I could tell that the Thursday audience was a lot livelier than the Wednesday crowd had been, there was a buzz about the building. I circulated, chatted, and once again many people told me that they had seen me before at various other venues. I posed for quite a few pictures, and it was obvious that the evening was going to be a fun one.

Gradually the guests began to take their seats in the library, and I went upstairs briefly, to change into my performance costume. There was the inevitable delay while the queue for the single restroom cleared, but soon everyone was in their seats, including Anastasia, who had interviewed me that morning and was watching the show to further flesh out her article.

I was right about the audience; they were very lively and vocal and thoroughly enjoyed the performance. I had a few adventures during the show, including the fringe of the red cloth, that becomes the image of Tiny Tim’s frail body, getting caught on my coat cuff button. It seemed to take an age for me to untangle it, but I am sure it was only a few seconds. I made a couple of adlibs in the voice of Bob Cratchit, ‘ah, Tim does not want to leave go of me’ but I managed to untangle myself eventually and carry on. When I got to my ‘favourite’ moment, I hoped that the silence was as impressive as I had told Anastasia it would be, and indeed it was, I could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.

The reaction at the end was spectacular and I could feel myself completely pumped up with a huge adrenaline rush. Having taken my bows, I stationed myself in the hall and chatted and posed with audience members as they left. Jeneene still had tears in her eyes as we hugged, and others were in a similar state of emotion. It had been a very good night.

My time at Ventfort had ended all too quickly, but before I changed, I posed for photographs with Haley, Leah and the other staff. and then mounted the grand staircase for the last time.

Back at the hotel the lobby bar was still serving food, so I had a burger and fries, before turning in for the night. On Friday I drive to New Hampshire for performances in Manchester and Nashua, before heading south to New York.

Rain, Tea and 1066 – a Very British Sort of a Day

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Bayeux Tapestry, Charles Dickens, D56, Earl Grey Tea, Ebenezer Scrooge, King George III, Norman Rockwell, Ventfort Hall Mansion

Lenox in The Berkshires is a lovely place to be, a small town in beautiful scenery. I have been here when there has been thick snow on the ground, and I have been in here in clear bright sunshine in a cloudless blue sky, indeed I have been here when there have been both of those things together. Wednesday in Lenox, however, was less New England, more old England, as the skies were leaden, and the rain fell constantly.

I had an almost full day before me, as I didn’t have to be at the venue, Ventfort Hall, until 5pm, but the idea of driving into the mountains and maybe hiking a little suddenly didn’t appeal very much. I unpacked my costumes and hung them on the rail, and at around 7.45 went down to the lobby for breakfast. I took a bag of my regular day-to-day clothes to put in the laundry but was somewhat dismayed to discover that both washer and drier were full. I took the laundry bag to a table and then went to the counter where I ordered some French toast and strawberries, with orange juice and coffee. As I sat, I noticed a lady at another table, with a large plastic bottle of laundry detergent next to her and knew her to be my victorious competitor.

As I ate, another customer went to the bar and asked for some tea, to which the assistant asked, ‘just plain old Early Grey?’ This seemed rather dismissive of what is rather an elegant blend, seen by some to be traditionally drunk by the more respectable classes of society. In England if it is just a ‘plain old..’ cup, we tend to say, ‘builder’s tea’. Curious as to who Earl Grey was, I took at my phone and did a little research and discovered that the tea is probably named in honour of the 2nd Earl (although nobody seems quite sure for certain), who was born in 1764, and rose to become prime minister of Great Britain in 1830. In his early career he resigned as Foreign Secretary over a disagreement of policy by King George III, who had had his own troubles with tea in the past, most particularly in Massachusetts. It is suggested, in family lore, that the 2nd Earl (christened Charles, but not the Charles Grey who would go on to blow Blofeld in the James Bond films) had engaged a Chinese mandarin to create a perfect blend of tea to counteract the taste of the water at the family seat in Northumberland, which was rich in lime. The addition of bergamot into a black tea created the taste the Earl desired, and so was established the beverage that had just been ordered in Lenox, MA.

I finished my breakfast and, checked in at the laundry, where both machines were still spinning, so returned to my room. There was no great rush, although I did have a radio interview coming in at 10am. After a while I went back to the laundry, and found that the washing machine was now empty, although the lady from the breakfast room stood guard over the drier. We chatted for a while, and she asked me what I was doing in town, and was I here with the other Brits who were at the hotel? Apparently, there are a few of us here, maybe the others are part of a tea-checking delegation.

As 10 came around I called the number that connected me with a radio station in New Hampshire, and instantly I was talking with the morning show, hosted by Greg Kretschmar, and his team which included a gentleman by the name of Roadkill. I think I have been interviewed by a Greg before, but never by a Roadkill, I am quite sure of that!

After the interview, I pottered around for a while, finished the laundry and got everything ready for the evening’s show, and decided to get out for a little bit, despite the weather, to stave off the onset of cabin fever. In past years I have driven into the nearby town of Lee, and I decided to do the same and explore some of the antique shops there. The weather was getting worse, so a gentle stroll through the streets was not really an option. I parked right outside Finders Keepers and made the dash from road to store, without getting too wet. An antique is something that is over 100 years old, and there wasn’t a great deal in the shop that qualified, but there was some interesting stuff, nonetheless. One stall featured lots of ceramic houses made by Department 56, a company with whom, I used to work, mainly because they produced a range called Dickens Village. When I started touring in the 1990s D56 villages where the complete rage, people collected manically, and each Christmas would create whole towns, with streets and rivers and people in order to display their collections. Desirable pieces fetched huge amounts of money and the world of D56 was quite an industry, but, seeing them in the store, dusty, unloved, at bargain basement prices, told me everything about the decline of the company in recent years.

Elsewhere in the shop there was a surprising amount of other Dickensiana, including a toby jug in the shape of Sam Weller and a couple of Norman Rockwell prints, one featuring Mr and Mrs Fezziwig dancing, and another of the beaming face of Mr Pickwick. There was also a lusterware jug with a scene from the Bayeaux Tapestry (which is not a tapestry, but an embroidery, and was not made in Bayeux, but in Canterbury), the famous 70-meter-long cloth depicting the events leading up to the Battle of Hastings in 1066 – a date that every English child knows. All in all, I felt quite at home in Finders Keepers!

I walked up the street to another antique store, but the weather was really starting to close in now, so decided to get back to the car before I got completely drenched.

I drove to a large grocery store and picked up a salad for my lunch, then returned to the hotel room and sat at the little desk to eat it. Throughout this time, I was exchanging messages with Liz back home and with the girls about to have their supper, it seemed a good time to have a video call. They told me about what they had been up to at school, and about the trip on Thursday to watch a pantomime in Oxford, which they were excited about. Soon it was time for their meal, so we all sadly said our goodbyes, and clicked the little red button to close the call, which always seems very brutal.

I spent the next hour or so catching up with some admin, emailing back and forth with upcoming venues, both in America and England, as well as providing information to my publishers about my new book, which will be available during next year’s tour.

When my work was done, I switched on the TV and watched an enthralling match from the World Cup, Argentina against Poland. I have never particularly been a football fan, but with our eldest daughter playing, and loving the sport, I have become more aware of what makes a good team, and can appreciate great play, and oh my, was there some great play in that match!

Late afternoon was drawing in, and the weather was too, with heavy winds now whipping the even heavier rain around. I collected my costumes and roller bag (I had put my hat and cane in the car earlier when I went out) and made a dash across the parking lot for the Santa Fe. Even in that short run I got completely soaked.

The drive to Ventfort Hall was only a few minutes, and in no time I was turning into the little driveway which led me up to the red mansion that had been built in 1891. This was my fourth visit, but it seems as if Ventfort has been part of my tours for much longer than that, for it feels very friendly and welcoming. I rang at the door, which was opened by Haley, who has looked after me during all of my visits. The dark panelled hallway was decorated for Christmas, with green garlands and white lights abounding. I took my things up to the lady’s boudoir, which is my sumptuous dressing room, and then returned to the library which for the evening would be my theatre. There was not a lot to sort out, as I do not need to use a microphone in such a small space. Haley introduced me to Leah, who would be looking after my sound effects. We ran through the script together, and it was obvious that she knew exactly what she was doing: I would be in safe hands. I took an opportunity to just sit in the parlour for a while, soaking up the atmosphere ready for the evening ahead.

Soon, the first of the audience were arriving, so I took myself upstairs. The format of the show at Ventfort was slightly different this year. In the past I have performed my show, and then the audience had been served a lavish tea, complete with cucumber sandwiches, cakes and other fancies. This year the decision was made to serve the tea first, at 5.30, and then my performance would be at 7. In previous years the tea has doubled as a signing session, with me just drifting through the crowd, chatting to audience members, and posing for pictures and giving autographs, as requested, and Haley had the same idea this year, but of course prior to the show.

I got into costume ready to meet n greet. I currently have two black frock coats, one has Velcro strips attached to the lapels which allows me to become ‘all black’ for the arrival of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, and therefore the coat I need to wear throughout a one act performance, but which would look odd during tea, so I put my other coat on, and so as to remember to change before the show, draped my scarf over the Velcroed version.

When I was sure that there were plenty of guests gathered, I went down and circulated through all of the first-floor rooms – It was very nice to meet people, and there were plenty of audience members who had seen me before, and not necessarily in Lenox, but somehow, without having had the show, it was a bit stilted and awkward – nobody, myself included, quite knowing what to say. When I was in the hall, I was swept up by board member Mary-Frances, who took me in hand and went up to every table with the ice-breaking gambit of ‘How are the cookies, Mr Dickens has said if the cookies are not good, he won’t come back, so we are checking up!’ It was an effective ploy, and allowed everyone to engage in conversation, without the social uncertainty of how to begin a dialogue.

After I had chatted for a while, I went back upstairs to relax before the performance itself. I sat in a chair next to a fireplace and could hear the strong wind whistling and moaning down the chimney, as if Jacob Marley himself were about to appear. At around 6.45 I returned to the hall and Haley confirmed that most of the audience were in, although there was a long line for the restroom, but soon everyone was gathered and Haley welcomed them all to Ventfort Hall, and introduced me. It is still the policy at Ventfort that all visitors and guests wear a mask, so I was the only person in the building without one, which felt a bit odd, and I think also made the atmosphere a bit formal, as it had last year, but I carried on and soon there was laughter in the little parlour. This was the first one act version I have performed since I arrived back in America, so I had to concentrate hard on the script, and make sure that I didn’t go off on any tangents, thereby confusing Leah and Haley, who would not be suspecting that 70 people would want refreshment! I kept to my proper script, and by the time Mrs Cratchit was panicking about her Christmas Pudding, there was lots of laughter in that small room.

The show came to an end, and I exited through the central aisle to the back of the room, and when I returned everyone stood and applauded me, with a few be-masked shouts thrown in for good measure. I wished everyone a final ‘Merry Christmas’ and stood in the large hall and chatted and posed with and for anyone who wanted to, and there were plenty who did.

It was a round 8.45 when I changed out of costume and was able to leave everything in the Green Room, for I was due to return at 9 the next morning for an interview and photo shoot. The rain outside had eased a little, but it was still windy and very cold, Haley warning me to watch for icy roads, and I drove back to the hotel, where I had a microwaved pizza for my supper, which maybe was the least English thing of my day!

Broad Street

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Broad Street United Methodist Church, Burlington, Charles Dickens, Doctor Marigold, Ebenezer Scrooge, The Signalman

I woke up on Thursday morning with the happy knowledge that I didn’t have to be anywhere until 11.30, and that my venue, the Broad Street United Methodist Church, was only 10 minutes away, so I had plenty of time to drift into the day gently.

I had hung my costumes the night before, but I needed to retrieve my top hat, scarf and three white shirts from my large suitcase, and I unpacked them as gently as I could, so that I would be able to re-insert them with as little disruption to the rest of my packing as possible. The result of my efforts was a perfect top-hat-shaped void in my case. I made sure that I had all that I would need for two shows packed in my roller bag, or hung on hangers, and then went to breakfast.

In the small restaurant area next to the front desk of the hotel a buffet was laid out, and as I began to pile some fruit onto cereal, I heard the voice of who I assumed to be the hotel manager, talking to one of his staff: ‘Hey, would like to see a Charles Dickens show tonight? I have tickets here for the hotel staff – Charles Dickens, A Christmas Caro, you want to go?’ I didn’t hear the reply, but it was obviously in the negative, for the manager’s voice continued, ‘Ha! I shall take that as a no then – Bah! Humbug to you!’ I couldn’t help smiling, at which point the manager noticed me, ‘Wow, it’s him! Are you Mr Dickens? Hey great to see you!’ and he strode towards me, hand outstretched. He said that Laura, who runs the show in Burlington, had come to the hotel yesterday to make sure that all of the arrangements were in place and had offered free tickets to any hotel employee who wished to go. We spoke for a while and he asked me about the tour and where home was, mentioning that he had spent time in Surrey and loved our scenery and history.

After breakfast I went back to my room, and relaxed for a while, wrote some emails, and did a little sewing. A button had come off one of my waistcoats in Omaha, and this was the perfect opportunity to test my needlework skills. I have to say, I think that one of the greatest inventions by the human race is that little foil gadget with the thin wire loop that enables a fat-fingered person like me to effortlessly thread a needle!

With my repairs complete it was almost time to leave, for I wanted to stop at Wal-Mart on the way to buy a new USB stick for my sound effects, not because I had mislaid mine (although you would be justified in having come to that conclusion, knowing my track record), but because more and more venues were struggling to use a traditional USB, but had the smaller micro ports, meaning that on a few occasions the tech teams at various shows have been scrabbling around for adapters, or old laptops. In Walmart I found a double-ended USB stick with both traditional and micro heads to it, which seemed to solve my problem.

I continued the short drive and arrived at the Church on the stroke of 11.30. There was an air of familiarity about the arrival, in that I was here as recently as September when I performed The Signalman and Doctor Marigold, although on that occasion I had pulled up in the beautiful midnight blue Mustang.

I unloaded my costumes and after a bit of door knocking was admitted to the beautiful old building that was built in Dickens’s time, and one that has welcomed me on so many occasions that I feel completely relaxed and at home there. Having put my red cloth onto the stage, I went to the small office, where Laura and other volunteers were putting tickets into envelopes for collection, and where I could get out my laptop and transfer the sound cues onto the new USB. It was fun being part of the team, and just chatting as we worked.

The first show was due to start at 1, and audience members at Burlington have a habit of arriving very early, so Laura and I went up into the balcony to go through the various sound effects that she would be operating from her laptop. Neither of us are experts in the world of sound technology, but between us we managed to get the correct cables attached to the correct ports and there was music in the air – music followed by doleful bells tolling. I ran through the script telling Laura how each effect should be played and when they should be faded, and when she was happy with the procedure, so we did a microphone test and got the levels just right. It is an old building, with old electrics and wiring, and there is inevitably a bit of popping and banging, but on the whole it all works very well.

There was only one thing left to do, and that was to carry the large armchair for my set from the small lounge beneath the sanctuary, up a narrow and steep staircase and onto the stage, which we achieved without injury and accident.

Sure enough the audience were beginning to arrive now, so I retreated to my dressing room, the Sunday school classroom, and began to prepare. The room is not only used for classes but also as a large games room too, and prominent in it is a pool table. Having got into costume, I wiled away a few minutes by playing a few shots. I thought that this moment should be captured, so spent more time carefully arranging my camera on its self-timer mode, to capture me making a break.

As 1 o’clock came closer I left the table, wrapped my scarf around my neck, made all of the final checks and went to the back of the sanctuary ready to start. The audience was not a huge one, but were all grouped together at the front, rather being spread out throughout the spacious area. Laura went onto the stage and began her introduction my making a sincere apology to a lady who had called to book tickets. The call had come at a particularly busy time, and the area code was a Californian one, and Laura supposed that this was going to an unsolicited sales call. When she picked up the phone the voice on the other end said, ‘Oh hi, I didn’t expect you to answer….’, to which Laura impatiently said ‘OK, so why did you call then,’ and hung up! Apology made she went on to introduce me and asked the audience how many people had not seen my show before, and an amazing 2/3 of the audience raised their hands! It is always interesting performing for people who do not know the style of the event, and sometimes it can take a while for people to relax into it, so this would be an interesting afternoon.

It is such a lovely church to perform in, so warm and welcoming, and the ‘stage’ gives me lots of options to use different levels and areas. The auditorium could hold over 500 people and yet it retains a very intimate and cosy feel. Sure enough the newbies in the audience took a little while to warm up, but soon they were laughing and gasping and sobbing along with the seasoned regulars, of whom there were many. When I finished, they all stood and applauded and shouted, and I took my bows gratefully.

After I had left the stage I quickly walked down the steep staircase to the lounge beneath, made my way to another staircase and clambered up (I was going to ascended, but that term may be a trifle presumptuous in a church) another staircase to the Kindergarten classroom, where I changed into a fresh costume for the meet and greet session.

One rather sad thing has occurred over the recent days, and that is my lovely pocket watch has stopped working. After an event last week, I don’t recall which, I noticed that the minute hand had come off, so I took the glass from the face and carefully clicked it back on to the spindle, but unfortunately the mechanism must have taken a knock, or a spring had broken, or something, for the winder would not wind and so the hands remained stationary. I bought the watch a few years ago in Plymouth Massachusetts over a Thanksgiving weekend, and it has been a wonderful companion to me ever since. Although it is still a perfectly good prop, I miss being to actually tell the time with it, for when I am in costume and have no modern wristwatch or phone to consult, it is my only way of knowing when I should be somewhere. I hope that I can get it repaired when I return to England next week.

When I was freshened up I went into the large room where tables were laid out and audience members were eating cookies and cakes, drinking tea and enjoying good fellowship. I took my seat at the signing table and soon there was a line of people, some of whom wanted books signed, some to pose for pictures but the majority just to talk about the show and my tour. It is always a very relaxed session, as people tend to remain at their table until they notice I am not occupied, and then come to chat. In the meantime, I had a cup of tea and my own plate of goodies to keep me happy.

It is a long-held tradition at Burlington that between shows all of the volunteers go for dinner at a local Italian restaurant, and although the group was smaller this year, still we all had an enjoyable time, chatting and laughing and comparing stories.

Back at the church I retired to my classroom, where I stretched out on a sofa, having taken my shoes off first of course, and had a short nap, which was very welcome. When I rose again, I spent some time trying to find a watchmaker in England who could care for my injured timepiece, and then began to get into costume once more. Marcia, the member of the team who brings me tea in a china cup, and Rich Tea Biscuits, knocked on the door and delivered my pre-show tray, which included a bowl of fresh fruit and a glass of iced water.

The evening show began at 7pm, and the routine was as before, I stood at the back of the hall ready to make my entrance, while Laura made her introductory remarks. Again, the show went extremely well, although some of the sound effects didn’t come across as clearly as usual, and the volume didn’t seem to be consistent. As I continued with the script I wondered if I had downloaded the wrong files onto the new USB, and made a mental note to check them when I could – it is amazing what goes through your mind when you are in the middle of a scene.

The evening show was as enthusiastically received as the afternoon one had been, and the reception was as fun with lots of people wanting to chat and ask questions, most particularly an ex-journalist who was very kind, and somewhat apologetic for her constant queries, but still followed each and every one through with a tenacity honed through many years on the news desks.

My time with the good folk of The Broad Street United Methodist Church was coming to a close, and I changed back into my regular clothes, made sure that I had collected and packed everything, and then said goodbye to me dear friends. I drove back to the hotel and hung my costumes up to air, ready to be packed into my little roller case again to journey to the final venue of this leg of the tour – Minneapolis.

To Omaha

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Douglas County Historical Society, Ebenezer Scrooge, Omaha, Queen Victoria

After three days of fun and success in the Kansas City area, Sunday morning marked the time to move on. I woke early, completed my daily blog duties, and went to the lobby for my final Hilton Garden Inn breakfast. Although it was only 6am, lobby cafe was surprisingly busy. I stopped by the desk to0 say hello to my old friend Squire, one of the night managers at the hotel and we chatted for a while. On my recommendation he had read Great Expectations since my last visit and was now keen on starting another Dickens novel. We chatted for a while, and then I grabbed myself a bowl of porridge and sat as I sat a table to eat another gentleman joined me. ‘I am sorry,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t help overhearing that you are from England. I worked in Wales for two years, and I just had to tell you what an amazing country you live in, so much history.’ It was a really nice moment, he had no idea who I was or why I was in town, he just recognised an English accent and wanted to share his passion for my home country and its history.

As I continued my breakfast, the couple at the table next to me struck up a conversation with one of the hotel employees about a forthcoming football match (football as in the American football), and it suddenly struck me that I had no understanding of a single word they were saying – they could have been having a conversation in Urdu for all the sense it made to me! I suppose if they travelled to England and overheard me talking to a friend about the latest cricket match, they would feel the same: ‘Did you see the googly he bowled? The batsman went back and was trapped, but he had given him the flipper the ball before, so it’s understandable, I suppose, and placing the fielder at silly mid-off was a masterstroke!’ You get my point.

I had the car loaded by 8.30 and was soon on the road, surrounded by the beginnings of a beautiful sunny day. The traffic was not too heavy, being a Sunday and in no time I was passing the Kansas City airport and on to the North towards Omaha, Nebraska.

The road was gruesomely littered with roadkill, various deer corpses in various states of mutilation lay at the roadside. At one point I noticed a movement to my left, something out of the ordinary, and saw to my horror a teenage girl clambering over the central reservation of the freeway, having already crossed one half of the road. I sped by, but watched transfixed in my mirror as she started to walk into the northbound carriageway. The road at this point began to descend a slight slope, and the last I saw of her was as she suddenly broke into a run, presumably to get across the road before another vehicle, unseen by me, arrived. I have no idea what happened in my wake, but there had been a horrible sense of inevitability about the whole scene, and it took a long time to shake the horror of what might have happened behind me from my mind.

The journey from Kansas City to Omaha is not an interesting one, it must be said. The journey lasts three hours and involves one long and very flat road, with little scenery of interest to break the monotony. For company I was listening to Bill Bryson’s book ‘Notes From a Big Country’, which offered plenty of laughs to keep me going, and the huge sky provided a beautiful canvas for swirling cloud formations that streaked the blue.

I could feel that I was getting tired, so decided to stop briefly to stretch my legs and to buy a cup of coffee and some sugary confectionary to keep me going. As I switched the engine off in my lovely Toyota, so the driver’s seat automatically slid back a few inches to give me extra space to leave the vehicle comfortably, and of course when I got back in and started the engine, so the seat whirred back into its previous position – all very James Bond and maybe not necessary but great fun, nonetheless.

The second half of the journey passed in much the same way as the first. I crossed the state line into Iowa and was greeted by a large sign telling me that the Iowa Welcome Center was CLOSED, which didn’t seem to be very welcoming at all. Fortunately, my time in that state would be measured in minutes, as I was headed to Nebraska which I knew would be much more welcoming.

Eventually the skyline of Omaha appeared and in no time I was pulling into parking garage at the Elements hotel in the city – a very familiar hotel to me, as I have been coming to Omaha for eleven years now. It was only 11am but the team at the Douglas County Historical Society, led by Kathy Aultz, had actually booked the room from the previous night so that it would be ready when I arrived. I pulled into the hotel’s parking garage and lugged my cases into the hotel lobby where I was greeted by the young clerk at the desk. As we exchanged pleasantries, I felt a hand on my shoulder and a voice saying ‘Gerald! have you only just arrived? Wow, I thought I was picking you up at 11!’ I turned to see the familiar figure of Kathy’s husband Frank, and having exchanged brief greetings, we tried to work out what the situation was. I checked my recent emails from Kathy and saw what had happened: in my final message I had said ‘Great, I will see Frank at 1!’ and she had mistakenly read the exclamation mark as another 1 and dispatched Frank to collect me at 11am. I did have a little down time, after all.

I checked in and went up to my room, sorted out costumes for the afternoon, and then watched some TV for the two hours until I was due to meet Frank once more. We were to go to the Omaha Field Club, a very nice golf club, where the main performance of my Omaha stay is always staged. Frank dropped me off at the front door and I walked up the short flight of white steps, lavishly decorated with pumpkins and corn cobs into the club, where the team from the Douglas County Historical Society were hard at work setting up event, with guest registration and merchandise tables prominently placed in the club’s lobby.

As I greeted and chatted to old friends, the main door opened and in came Susie Phillips – my dearest friend in Omaha, and the reason that I came to the city in the first place. Susie, and her husband Lee, saw me perform in Williamsburg many years ago, and convinced Kathy to bring me to Omaha. We have become very good friends over the years, and they have even stayed in our home when they took a trip to England a few years ago. The past year has not been a kind one for Susie, for she is undergoing a rigorous course of chemotherapy, but her smile, her indomitable spirit, her sense of humour is still just as strong as ever, and it was lovely to catch up.

Getting back to work, I took my costumes and bags into the locker room and laid them on the bench where I always change by Lee’s locker, he being a member at the club. Next, I made my way into the large ballroom, already laid out with tables for the lavish tea service which precedes my performances at The Field Club, and laid out my various props on the stage, which was already set with a chair, stool, table and fireplace. My sound cues were being operated by Elise and we spent a little time going through each one, and discussing the timings etc, until we were both quite satisfied.

Preparations complete I returned to the lobby where guests were beginning to arrive, so I took myself to the dining room and ordered a simple avocado and chicken salad, which I ate with Lee, as we caught up with each other’s news.

In the dining room the tea service was due to start at 2, so the guests were all in their seats, but I had another hour to wait until showtime, so I paced around the lobby, read some books, and chatted to anyone who happened to pass by. Eventually showtime approached, and I put my top hat and scarf on and slipped into the back of the dining room as Kathy gathered the guests to order and introduced me. Elise started the opening sound cue, and I slowly walked through the audience and onto the stage.

The performances at The Field Club are fun, because the stage is low enough, and the guests near enough, to include them in the story. The traditional fourth wall of a theatre can be broken in such a setting, and I can involve members of the audience in the storytelling, which is always great fun. I was relieved to discover that my voice that had been scratchy and tired in Kansas City, seemed to have recovered, and I could give each character their own personality without it being tainted by my own vocal shortcomings.

The show was lovely, with lots of laughter and passion. At the end, as Scrooge makes his way through the streets wishing ‘A Merry Christmas!’ to all and sundry, I made a big fuss of Suzy, sitting a one of the front tables, by kissing her hand and saying ‘Enchante, Mademoiselle’ before moving on,

The response to the show was wonderful, with a long and loud standing ovation. It is traditional in Omaha that I do a short Q&A session after the performances, so I spent 5 or 10 minutes answering questions from the floor, including one from Suzy – ‘what is your favourite venue to perform in?’ Whatever else may be going on, she hasn’t lost her wicked sense of humour, for how can I answer anything other than Omaha?

When the questions were answered (most diplomatically, I may say), I went back to the locker room to change into my dry costume, and then returned to the lobby to sign and chat and pose for photographs. One gentleman presents a very early edition of A Christmas Carol with the original hand-coloured engravings, and it is a real pleasure to hold and see – he wouldn’t notice if I create a diversion and slip it into my pocket, would he?

Soon the signing was over, Frank and Lee had packed all of my things into the car, so I went back to the hotel in costume, where I had just over an hour to relax before it was time to leave for my evening show, which was my annual appearance at the General Crook House at Fort Omaha, also the HQ of the Douglas County Historical Society. The house is a wonderful Victorian property and at this time of day is lavishly decorated for Christmas. The dining room is cleared of its furniture and turned into a small theatre, with a capacity of 40, whilst the Parlour is turned into a dining room, serving a sumptuous, elegant and delicious buffet.

Frank and I arrived at about 6.30, and the guests were also tucking in and enjoying the fine fare. There were many familiar faces there, including Suzy and Lee, and we chatted until the time for my presentation arrived.

Kathy stood on the small stage and introduced me and then it was time for me to begin. I had decided to give the reading that I performed in Rochester in June, based on the meeting between Queen Victoria and Charles Dickens in 1870. I wasn’t at all sure how well it would be received, as it is not a performance I have given since I premiered it during the late Queen’s platinum jubilee celebrations but actually it was really well received. The story of their relationship is a fascinating one and may form the basis for a future book.

When I had finished, we had some more questions, before moving into the parlour and gathering around the table to have a champagne toast, which was written and proposed by Suzy, who presented it with her customary aplomb.

The day, that had started in Kansas City and had involved a three-hour drive and two performances, was coming to an end and I was grateful to get back to the Element and my room. Chef Mario had plated up the best bits from his buffet and I sat in my room watching tv and enjoying the delicious food. It had been a long and busy day, but a very satisfying and successful one, but soon sleep overwhelmed me and it was time to switch the television off retire for the night.

Aboard my Trusty Steed

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Blaenau Ffestiniog railway, Byers'Choice, Charles Dickens, Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biogrpahy of a Rail Crash, Doctor Marigold, Ford Mustang, Running, The Signalman

On Tuesday it was back to work, with two more performances of the same double bill that I performed in Georgia and at Byers’ Choice, in Burlington, New Jersey.

The two down days were spent at Bob and Pam’s cabin and enabled me to relax, follow the continuing news coverage from home, and to prepare for forthcoming shows. On Sunday the rain fell from dawn till dusk, and as Bob and Pam were at the cabin too, we all had a very lazy day, watching sport, reading, and completing a jigsaw puzzle that featured scenes and characters from the works of, guess who? Charles Dickens if course.

On Sunday evening Bob and Pam said their goodbyes and drove back to their home in town ready for the working week, leaving me in the middle of the woods alone with just a cacophony of insects in the trees to keep me company.

On Monday morning I woke early and looking out over the Delaware River valley I saw that although it was misty, the rain had abated, so I decided to go out for a training run.

At the bottom of the hill there is a canal with a towpath that runs for miles in both directions, so I set off at 6.15 and spent just over an hour running out and back, at one time being accompanied by a family of deer who bounded and skipped alongside me for a while. Unfortunately my running app on the phone refused to pick up a GPS signal, so I have no idea how far or how fast I ran, but based on previous experience it must have been about 5 or 6 miles all told including the long slow trek back up the steep driveway.

After I had showered and cooled down a little I decided to drive out to a nearby general store to pick up a few things for breakfast, and the rest of my stay, and it was now that I was introduced to my transport for the next couple of days, and what a splendid beast it was! In the garage sat a magnificent midnight blue Ford Mustang Convertible. I got into the drivers seat (the car sort of swallows you up, you sit so deep within it that you become part of it) and turned the key which opened the stable for all those horses to be freed. I assume it is a V8, it certainly sounded like one. I carefully reversed it out of the garage, and then placed my foot on the gas pedal (somehow I have to use the American terminology for this car) to propel it forward up the cinder track, and such was the power that the rear wheels simply spun on the loose surface leaving two little marks in my wake. My second attempt was much more gentle and off I went with the roof down. The lanes and roads around the river are narrow and have speed limits no greater than 45 mules per hour, so I couldn’t exploit the sheer power deep within (which was probably just as well), but to slowly cruise was wonderful. I think I love that car and may pop it into my hand luggage when I leave and steal it!

After I had shopped I returned to my woodland retreat atop the hill, had some breakfast and then settled down to various bits of work. The main focus of my morning was to work on the script for ‘A Child’s Journey With Dickens’ which I am due to perform on Friday in Massachusetts. I have performed this little tale on many occasions and know the script very well, but this week’s performance is slightly out of the ordinary. During lockdown the Charles Dickens Museum in London asked me to perform an online version of the story, and I cooperated with my friend and fellow actor Jennifer Emerson, who is based in Massachusetts. Together we reworked the script, so that she took on the role of Kate Douglas Wiggin, the author of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, whilst I enhanced the narrative with the recital of letters from Dickens, giving accounts of the planning for his American tour, his journey and his observations during his stay. It is an interesting challenge to learn, or at least re-learn, lines which have to fit within a script featuring another character. I am used to learning large chunks of text for my shows, and I have become quite adept at that over the years, but returning to the fragmented nature of dialogue, and having to make sure that another performer gets the correct cues is a much more disciplined task, so I have been spending quite a lot of time just pacing around the cabin muttering to myself.

At 10 o’clock on Monday morning I had a Zoom call with Jennifer and we went through the script together, making a few changes and discussing how we would actually stage the performance (of course last time we did it we were in different countries, so it was very much a vocal performance rather than a physical one).

When the call was over I did some more work on the lines, and then prepared myself to drive back to Byers’ Choice where 200 copies of ‘Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biography of a Rail Crash’ were waiting to be signed. Once more I settled myself deep within the Mustang and rumbled my way into Chalfont. The boxes of books were in the Conference Room, and I settled down to add my autograph to each copy, whilst listening to the BBC news coverage of events in Edinburgh as the Queen’s coffin was laid in state for the first time.

The signing didn’t take too long and when I had finished I went to find Bob to discuss another issue. The wonderful warning light that David had built for my performance of The Signalman was so impressive that I had suggested it would be great if I could take it to each of the forthcoming venues where I am due to perform the piece again. I will be driving to each, but the prop is over 6 feet tall and, especially in the case of Burlington, I would be driving in the Mustang which, for all its beauty, is not built to transport goods. I’d suggested that I keep the roof down and we had the light sticking up out of the top, maybe we could connect it to the brake pedal, so that it glowed ominously every time I slowed, but of course Dave and Bob had a more practical solution. I was taken to a workshop and witnessed the frame being sawn into two parts, with brackets to re-assemble it. Both parts would now fit in the Mustang and Dave had even installed a switch into the unit so that I could turn it off at the appropriate point of the show. I arranged to drop by in the morning, on my way to Burlington to pick up the finished article, before driving back to the cabin where I did a little more line learning, and then played myself at pool in the basement – and won!

Tuesday promised to be a busy day as I had two performances of my double bill, making it more like four performances. I gathered all of my costumes and props, loaded them into the Mustang and left the cabin at 9.15 and drove to Byers’ Choice to collect the light. As it would have to go into the back seat of the car, and as it had four metal plates to attach it again, Dave had also made some covers to avoid the metal edges damaging the upholstery, a very sensible precaution that I would never have thought about. I finished loading the car and then started the hour’s journey to Burlington, and the beautiful old United Methodist Church on Broad Street.

Burlington is one of my regular venues and I have been performing A Christmas Carol there for many years, so it was a pleasure to bring some more of my repertoire there this year. I pulled up outside the Church and went in, where I found Laura in the office preparing for the day’s events. Laura is our main contact at Broad Street and has been at the helm of the events since the very beginning, she is the centre of an active and deeply committed group of volunteers who put on amazing events. Laura told me that the audiences would be smaller than at Christmas, and we needed to decide where to stage the events. We could use the beautiful sanctuary, with its wrap around balcony and multi-level performing space, but a small audience may look rather lost in there, and also the day was hot and humid and there was no air conditioning in the hall.

The alternative was the basement room, also used for services, but much smaller and less beautiful, however it was cooler and the smaller space would suit the intimate nature of the double bill, whilst giving the impression of a larger crowd – the decision was an easy one in the end.

I unloaded the car, reconstructed the danger lamp, and then we all (me, Laura and the crew) worked on making the performance space look good. Lecterns and flags were removed, as well as large amounts of crucifixes and other religious iconology (I felt somewhat heretical, but as it was the members of the church community who were suggesting it, and doing the clearing I reckoned it was OK!). Laura asked if I wanted a large black cloth that is usually draped over the organ in the Sanctuary to be draped over the altar table, but an idea came into my head – was there any way we could hang it on the wall behind to create the great black void of the railway tunnel? Before I knew it people were clambering onto the altar, stretching up and trying to pin the cloth in place. In the end, the effect was perfect, but I am sure that I will be going to Hell for this.

The help continued as the team provided me with a very old book to represent the ‘official book’ that lies on the Signalman’s desk, and also a rather lovely miniature bell to stand on top of the signalling equipment. Both of these items looked superb on my set: along with the Mustang, my luggage promises to be bulging with nefariously purloined contraband when I leave on Saturday.

Even as we were setting up the first audience members began to arrive, so having checked that everything was in place, I retreated to my changing room, where the ever-attentive Marcia brought me my traditional pot of tea and biscuits – what a pre-show treat.

At 12.50 I made my way back downstairs in my Signalman costume, complete with black armband, and at 1 on the dot Laura welcomed the guests and handed the room to me. The audience were attentive and engaged, and the performance was intense and powerful, I enjoyed myself a great deal. The fact that I am continually performing the same repertoire on this trip means that it is becoming tighter and more effective with each show and I can relax much more. I finished the half, as I have done throughout this trip, by relating the anecdote of performing The Signalman on the Blaenau Ffestiniog railway in Wales##, where the audience had been brought up the mountain side, through the dark sombre slate hills, by train, and when I finished the show they all got back onto the (unlit) train and began the precipitous and precarious descent. Feeling that I should wave goodbye I had stood on a foot bridge across the line and waved in the manner of the spectre in the story, with one arm across my face. It is a good way to finish the act as it gets a bit of a laugh and just raises the spirits a little after the solemnity of the show itself.

At the interval I changed into my Marigold costume, with sleeves casually rolled up, thus displaying my war wounds from Jekyll, which have yet to heal fully and then returned to the room to change the set round in as anonymous a way as possible. When all was ready Laura called the room to order and Doctor M took over in his entertaining way. The audience laughed, were shocked, gasped and sobbed as the story toyed with their emotions and the applause at the end was wonderful – another group of people had become Marigold converts.

When the show was over and bows taken, we all made our way into another hall where tables are laid out, whilst tea, cakes, cookies and large slices of pumpkin pie are served. This is always a very nice informal way to conduct a meet and greet, autograph session, as everyone just watches until there is no line and ambles up to my desk to chat. On this occasion a very kind gentleman presented me with a large resin beer stein complete with characters from A Christmas Carol in relief – people are so generous. Throughout the session everyone offered sincere condolences for my country’s loss, there is a very genuine sense of grief and sorry here too.

The session drifted to its end and I returned to the hall to re-set for the evening’s performance of The Signalman, so that everything was ready. I changed and all of the Broad Street team walked to Francesco’s restaurant for a late lunch/early dinner. I enjoyed a salad with crispy chicken and honey mustard dressing, whilst the chat and banter was as entertaining as ever – these people are good people, kind people, generous and fun people.

Back to the church, and I had an hour or so to rest before the 7 o’clock show. My dressing room was in a large room used for Sunday school teaching, as well as for games and play. In the middle of the room was a pool table, so I had a few frames and once again I beat myself – I must be getting quite adept at the game as I keep winning.

Soon it was time to get back to business and I got back into costume ready for the 7 o’clock start. The evening audience was smaller, but just as attentive. My good friend Kevin from the New York branch of the Dickens Fellowship was there, which was great to see, but it meant I couldn’t get away with any incorrect facts as I spoke of Staplehurst (he knows his Dickens, does Kevin!), fortunately he was nodding a lot, which was a good sign.

Both shows went well again, although I was feeling the fatigue during Marigold, but the effect at the end was the same as in the afternoon and many a tear was surreptitiously wiped away.

At the reception I chatted with Kevin and his wife, and with many other regular fans, who have been coming to see A Christmas Carol for many years and who were delighted to see some of my other material. Soon, though, they drifted away and it was time to get changed and then start to dismantle the set, break down the light, and carefully pack everything into my mighty steed ready for an hour’s drive back to the cabin. I really felt very tired, but had the windows wide open as I drove. There were lots of deer along the way, but fortunately none ran into my path, which was a relief. At about 11pm I pulled the car into the parking space outside the house, locked it, and went inside.

Sleep came very quickly on Tuesday night.

If it’s August it must be…..

Tags

Charles Dickens, Llandrindod Wells Victorian Festival, Mr Dickens is Coming!, Nicholas Nickleby

There are certain events in my schedule that mark the never-changing progress of the year – some are important dates for their historical significance and may, or may not, be linked to a performance (specifically February 7 and June 9 being the dates on which Charles Dickens was born and died respectively). The great Dickens Festival in Rochester is always held at the end of the spring half term, whilst Thanksgiving Day in America sees the start of my main tour of the United States. But there is another event, without which my year would seem fractured and incomplete: the Victorian Festival in the Welsh spa town Llandrindod Wells, which takes place during the second half of August.

I was introduced to Llandrindod many years ago by my good friend David Hawes who, although based in Kent, worked with the festival organisers to bring a flash of pizzazz and theatricality to the event. David has always been a great champion of my work and many of my current venues are thanks to his influence and powers of persuasion. Back in 2014 he looked at the Llandrindod festival programme and reckoned that one of my shows would fit in well, so he made sure that the committee booked me to perform at the perfectly named ‘Albert Hall’

I took to the festival straight away and have been returning ever since, meaning that August wouldn’t be August without driving to mid-Wales. Like so many events the LLandrinod festival suffered greatly during the two Covid years, but this year it was back – alive and kicking. The event has relied for many years on a group of both locals and visitors gathering, dressing in Victorian costumes and attending a series of themed events, talks and shows. The town boasts a wonderful small green, complete with a bandstand, and this has become the focus of the activities. In past years there has been a small funfair, a craft fair and some sideshows to provide entertainment for the locals who may have otherwise felt excluded. This year the committee had included a series of non-Victorian events to further boost the appeal, including concerts featuring Dolly Parton, Tom Jones and Witney Houston tribute acts (not to mention that well known Charles Dickens tribute…I must think of a suitable pun-laden name for my act). At the town’s large lake, nestling in the valley, a series of children’s piratical adventures was laid on, featuring treasure hunts and it seemed to me that the town itself was beginning to once more embrace the festival, meaning it was no longer the sole preserve of the stalwarts, although they still are very much the core and beating heart of the event.

My show at The Albert Hall was to be staged on Tuesday night and this year I had been asked to perform a double bill of Mr Dickens is Coming! followed by The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby. These two shows were the first that I wrote back in ’95 and ’96 and whilst I have already performed Mr Dickens is Coming a few times this year, I have not revisited Nickleby for a long time and it was with great pleasure that I spent the days preceding my trip going through the lines and finding that they came back to me with a minimum of effort – not just the lines, but the timing, nuances and movements too.

My drive from Oxford to Powys took me on motorways at first, but in no time I was on smaller roads, driving through picturesque villages. Shortly after passing Tenby Wells I realised that the car was in need of fuel and so I stopped at a small filling station. In fact I queued at the small filling station, for the price of a litre of Unleaded was £1.62, by far the lowest I had seen since the prices were coming down from their £2.00 peak of a few weeks before, and obviously people were coming from miles around to avail themselves of a bargain top up. I took the opportunity of the stop to buy a sandwich for my lunch, and I chose a magnificent door-stop cheese and pickle example. This wasn’t a typical pre-packed, limp, flabby, sweaty sandwich, such as you might expect to find in a petrol station, oh no, this had been lovingly built by hand by someone who wanted to make sure that drivers didn’t go hungry!

Shortly after finishing my sandwich I decided that I fancied a cup of coffee, maybe a slice of cake, and I was pondering where best to purchase these items when I saw brown tourist signs for the National Trust property Croft Castle. ‘Well,’ I thought, ‘I have a National Trust membership card, so I wont have to pay an entrance fee, and the property is sure to have a tea room, so why not give myself a little treat?’ I was not disappointed, for the tea room served up an excellent slice of coffee and walnut, and the setting was fabulous.

I stretched my legs by walking to the ‘castle’ itself and admiring the views, before returning to my car and completing the journey through the gorgeous Welsh scenery

I arrived in Llandrindod at around 3pm and checked into my home from home in the town, The Portland Guest House where I settled into the room I always have on the very top floor. I lay on the bed, watched a little cricket on the television and had a short nap before it was time to shower and make my way to the theatre – a drive of 0.1 mile, which took me maybe less than a minute. I unloaded my various props, and with the assistance of theatre manager Ben carried them to the stage.

It was at this point that I realised that I had left my top hat and walking cane at home. These items do not have a huge role in the show, in fact they only appear in a single scene very early on in Mr Dickens is Coming to create the jaunty demeanour of Mr Micawber, who uses the cane to as a metaphoric set of scales to measure the happiness or misery of his income. The show can be played without these simple items, but it would be a shame, and as the large majority of the audience would be in costume, I reckoned that I may be able to borrow a hat and cane from somewhere: I asked Ben to make appropriate enquiries on my behalf.

I had plenty of time to prepare, for the show wasn’t due to start until 8pm, although some of the audience arrived expecting a 7.30 curtain up. Having carefully set the stage I ran through parts of both shows, until the first of the public began to arrive, festival regulars in full costume, and having said a few hellos I made my way back to the dressing room, where I changed into costume and waited. As time passed Ben appeared holding a hat which he had commandeered. No cane yet, he was working on it!

I could hear the audience gathering and eventually, with ten minutes to go, a walking cane appeared too: I was ready to go.

At 8 o’clock Queen Victoria (aka my good friend Rita) made her entrance and the whole audience were asked to stand as she processed to her front row seat, as I stood waiting in the wings, desperate to get going (I am like a caged beast in those last minutes before a show starts, pacing to and fro waiting to be released). When the Queen was seated Ben faded the houselights to black and then illuminated the stage and I walked on to a round of applause. The Albert Hall could really have been built to suit my style of shows – the size and elegance of the auditorium and the imposing and powerful height of the stage, makes it perfect for me. Mr Dickens is Coming went well, getting laughs at the right moments, and I was very careful with the top hat (a particularly fine vintage example), and cane during the Micawber section, but as I made my way into the sinuous, repulsive Uriah Heep passage and then to the exhausting sword fight of The Bagman’s Uncle (masquerading as a 1960’s James Bond movie), I threw everything into the show.

At the interval I waited until most of the audience had left the auditorium then changed the furniture round in readiness for Nicholas Nickleby (not a huge set change, it must be said, just changing the red reading desk from stage left to stage right, and moving the chair from stage right to stage left.) I made sure that various prop letters that are needed for Nickleby were where they should be, and then waited until the Queen returned and I could begin once more.

As I had discovered during my rehearsals Nickleby came back to me as if I had been performing it regularly all season and I had lots of fun leaping from character to character. I used a slightly different voice for Ralph Nickleby, making him a little older than he used to be, but it didn’t go well as my throat began to tighten, so I reverted back to a safer option for the balance of the show.

The story raced from Devon to London to Yorkshire back to London to Portsmouth back to London again and finally to Devon once more before reaching its conclusion over Smike’s grave. I left the stage and returned to take my bows as the audience applauded my efforts. It had been a fun night.

As soon as I was off stage I began packing up my costumes and props as the 8.00pm start time meant that it was late, and I had dinner to enjoy yet. Ben and the rest of the Albert Hall Crew helped me load my car up and I drove back to the Portland from where I walked back to John Abell’s home where we traditionally have a late night Chinese take away in the company of his mum Julie, and this year we were joined by Marina from the festival committee and her daughter Mia. We tucked into the meal, drank some champagne that John had bought for us, and finished off with chocolate brownies. There was lots of chat about films, running, the festival and various other topics, and it was a perfect way to wind down after such an energetic and exciting evening.

It was late when I walked back to Portland but even then the adrenaline was still keeping me awake so I switched on the television and found an old episode of Inspector Morse. I knew it was time to turn the lights out when the murderer was revealed and I hadn’t realised that anyone had yet been murdered!

On Wednesday morning I woke to find the town wrapped in cloud with a wet drizzle soaking everything, this was a pity for I’d planned to head up into the hills and play some golf that morning. I went downstairs to breakfast and devoured bacon, sausage, egg and toast and as I ate, the skies seemed to brighten a little and I decided to go ahead with my original plan after all.

Llandrindod Wells golf club is a lovely course which I have played on a number of occasions and the weather Gods welcomed me as I pulled into the car park, for the clouds disappeared and revealed a blue sky behind. I was greeted by the club pro Phil Davies, and we chatted for a while about the festival and Charles Dickens, before I set off on my morning’s adventure. The course is very hilly, especially over the first 4 holes as they rise up to the highest point, and I asked Phil if I could rent an electric trolley for my heavy golf bag. I have not used one before and it took me a while to get used to the controls – at first I had the speed setting too high and the thing flew off up the course dragging me behind it. I would have reduced the setting if I’d bothered to ask how to do that, but I had no idea how to control the thing as it threatened to pull my arm from its socket. Eventually I discovered a little dial on the handle and my journey up the mountainside became more sedate.

The round of golf was wonderful and I actually had the course to myself for the morning. The scenery surrounding me was stunning, the air was clear and little swifts swooped around me as I walked.

I actually played very well until the last few holes when maybe the effects of the show took their toll, but for whatever reason I rather lost focus and talent at the same time, but it didn’t spoil what had been a great morning.

I had one more commitment at the festival and that was to attend a strawberry and champagne picnic on the green. I asked Phil if I could change in the golf club’s locker room, and he asked if I would pose on the course in costume, which I was delighted to do. I even tried a drive from the first tee but my frock coat didn’t allow for me to swing properly and the ball bobbled embarrassingly before coming to rest a few yards in front of me. Phil very kindly said it looked as if I had a good swing!

Back down in town I made my way to the green where another of the costumed ladies was setting up her champagne table. Joyce has always put this event on, she brings all of the champagne and punnets of strawberries; It is her gift to all of those who make the festival such fun. Over the last year Joyce has been through many difficult times and it was doubtful whether she would be attending this year, but just a week before she announced that she would be present and the reception would be on!

At 1 o’clock the costumed folk began to gather and set up tables for their picnics. linen cloths were laid, teapots filled, china cups and saucers laid and cake stands filled – it was so splendidly British!

Marie, another regular visitor, helped Joyce set up and when the ‘bar’ was complete Joyce looked as if all the woes of the world had left her and she looked genuinely happy with a beaming smile. We all had a glass of champagne (fortunately there was a non alcoholic version that I could drink) and we all toasted to happy times.

And that was the end of my 2022 visit to Llandrindod Wells. I said my goodbyes and set off back to Oxfordshire. I have left in previous years wondering if the festival could survive and not sure if I would be returning, but this year it seemed in rude health indeed and the future looks bright!

Perfect Preparation? Perhaps Not!

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Byers'Choice, Charles Dickens, Covid19, Doctor Marigold, Ebenezer Scrooge, Formula One, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Sikes and Nancy, The Signalman, Uber Eats, Ventfort Hall Mansion

Sunday 5 December saw my second day in The Berkshires and with one show at 3 o’clock it meant that there was a quiet morning in store. Maybe I could take a drive into the mountains, maybe I could explore some of the delightful neighbouring towns and villages, maybe I could breathe in the cold, clear, unpoluted air. No! There was a Grand Prix to watch! The TV coverage from Jeddah would begin at 11 am, and I had a little bit of housekeeping to do before then. Having bought breakfast (a yoghurt, granola and fruit collation, along with a muffin, orange juice and coffee), from the little Starbucks Cafe that the Courtyard hotels favour, I piled a load of laundry into a machine, and then took the car to a nearby grocery store to buy myself some lunch, as well as picking up a few other essentials.

As I drove back to the hotel, I noticed a signpost to ‘The Pleasant Valley Nature Reserve’, and apart from immediately breaking into my best Monkees impression, I thought that it sounded like a perfect way to spend a day off, as I would have on Monday.

I moved my laundry into the dryer, had another coffee and then settled down to watch the Formula One coverage. I know that this blog isn’t a Grand Prix fan site, but the events from Saudi Arabia did dominate my morning, so I can’t skip over it completely, but I promise I will not turn into an F1 journalist. The tension and excitement for the race, and the championship (this being the penultimate weekend) was obvious as soon as the coverage began, but before any action occurred there was a very moving tribute to the former team owner Frank Williams, who died last week. As all of the drivers and team members gathered around a large photo of Williams on the track, and a video compilation of his extraordinary career was shown, it was as if the current combatants were being told ‘honour him, perform to the standards that he would have performed to: win, but win well.’ It was a lesson that they should have heeded.

As the race time got closer, I popped my chicken and pasta dish into the microwave and settled down to watch. The start of the race passed without much incident, with Britain’s Lewis Hamilton leading easily and his great young Dutch rival, Max Verstappen stuck back in third, but then another driver crashed, and the race was stopped. Due to various decisions made by the two main teams, things were about to get spicey and at times downright dirty. Unfortunately for me, the delays to the race meant that I wouldn’t be able to watch it to its conclusion, as I actually had a show to do!

I continued listening to the coverage via my phone, until I once again pulled up at Ventfort Hall, where in the parking lot I was greeted by an audience member, who had arrived very early, saying ‘You must be Mr Dickens, I recognise you from your picture. Good luck today!’ That was very nice way to arrive and reminded me that I was there to entertain.

In the house Hayley and Chris were making the preparations for the afternoon and I checked that all of the furniture and props were in the right place, before retiring to my spacious dressing room, where I once again put the race coverage on as I dressed. Eventually, Lewis Hamilton emerged triumphant, with Max in 2nd place, but it didn’t sound a nice race with everyone playing every underhand trick that they could to gain an advantage. There was dangerous driving, there was bizarre driving, there was winging from the teams to the race director, who, in turn, sounded confused and weak, bartering with the Red Bull team over the severity of a particular penalty. Although incredibly exciting, it didn’t show F1 to the world in a good light. The final upshot was that Lewis and Max go into the final race next weekend absolutely level on points.

Fortunately, the race finished at around 2.20, which meant I had time to re-adjust my priorities and to become an actor again. Having got into costume and checked all of the things that had to be checked (watch wound, penny in waistcoat pocket, etc) I went and sat on the landing, looking down into the hall as the audience gathered. There was a very obvious sense of excitement and plenty of noise, and I soaked it up.

At 2.55 I creaked down the wooden staircase and Hayley confirmed that everyone had arrived, and that we were good to go. Chris sat at his laptop, ready to play the music cue, and Hayley welcomed everyone before starting the show. Straight away I could tell that this was a fun audience, they responded to everything from the very start (the first moment in the script that I can tell how a performance is going to go is when the narrator says ‘mind, I don’t mean to say that I know what there is particularly dead about a doornail….’ On this occasion they took the hint and laughed, obviously understanding that they were expected to be, and allowed to be, part of the show). We all had great fun, and it was a very satisfying performance. I had, quite naturally, been worried that my build-up to the show was not a conventional one and I might not have prepared myself well, but my fears were unfounded – I did a good job!

The Q&A was also fun, and there were some very good questions and lot of to-and-fro conversation, that makes sessions like this such a joy. After a while I became aware of Hayley hovering at the back of the room and knowing that pots of tea had been brewed and would be in danger of getting cold and stewed, I started to bring the session to an end, but there was one last question: ‘Is this your first time to The Berkshires?’ ‘No, it is my third visit, and I love it here!’, which got a loud round of applause and was a perfect time to sign off. There is indeed something very beautiful about the area, not just the scenery, but the community as well: it is a special place, and I would very much like to return during the summer months to perform some of my other shows: The Signalman would work well at Ventfort, as would Marigold and Sikes & Nancy. I know other venues would be interested in ‘out of season’ shows, so it would be lovely to try and put something together one day.

As the guests piled their plates high, I returned to my upstairs room and sat at my little table to eat my tea, before changing. I gathered up all of my belongings and went downstairs where I found Hayley and Chris to say goodbye, and to thank them for being such amazing colleagues over the last two days, and then I drove back to the hotel.

I had a quiet evening in, and at around 7 I logged on to my Uber Eats app and ordered a pizza from a nearby restaurant. I love going out and dining in restaurants, but the importance of remaining healthy and safe is paramount at the moment. It looks as if things are ramping up in Britain again, and the government has changed the regulations for entering the country yet again, meaning that the second Covid test, the PCR, that I purchased last week is also now redundant and I will have to have a test in the USA before I am allowed to fly home. With no idea as to how to get a test here I had earlier emailed Bob Byers, who had replied that he was looking into it on my behalf. It looks as if we will have to book something on my route from Lewes, Delaware to Byers’ Choice in Pennsylvania (the test has to be done within two days of flying), and this just adds a new logistical challenge to the end of the tour.

I watched a bit of TV, but felt myself nodding off, so retired for an early night.

On Monday I have a travel day with no shows and no commitments, and I think that the Pleasant Valley Nature Reserve sounds like an excellent way to relax!

The Thin Blue Line

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Courtyard by Marriott, Ebenezer Scrooge, Marriott Hotels, The Berkshires, Ventfort Hall Mansion

I woke up in my Comfort Inn in Manchester not at 3am, or 4am, but I actually made it to 6 for the first time on the trip! I had been woken to the sound of a car alarm sounding in the parking lot, and I vaguely had a memory of hearing a similar alarm at a previous hotel which rather worryingly suggested that it might have been my car.

Saturday morning would be taken up with driving to The Berkshires, the beautiful mountain region in western Massachusetts, and it looked as if it were going to be another amazing day to drive, with clear skies and a light frost on the ground. Before leaving I had time to watch some more practice from the Grand Prix and as soon as the session was over, I checked out and got on the road.

For audio accompaniment on this trip, I listened to a series of podcasts about the forthcoming Ashes cricket series. I hope that my English readers will forgive me for a moment, while I explain about The Ashes. The greatest rivalry within the international cricket calendar is that between the Australian team and the English team, which dates back to 1882 when the Aussies first beat England on British soil. On the next day an obituary to English cricket was published in The Times newspaper and the wooden bails (part of the equipment used during the match) were burned and the ashes placed in a tiny ceramic urn. Ever since that little urn has been the trophy that the two nations have played for. An Ashes series only comes around once every few years, alternating between England and Australia, and in the winter of ’21, ’22 the series is being played in the Southern hemisphere, where England have only won once in the last 34 years. The podcast was made by the BBC cricket correspondent and delved into all of the preparations inherent in sending a team to the land down under and was a very interesting listen.

My route took me back towards Boston and then skirting to the west of the city I drove straight back through Worcester where I was just a week before, and once again admired the beautiful old railroad station with its twin white towers making it look like the old Wembly football stadium in London.

Worcester Railroad Station

The Old Wembly Stadium, London

The views as I progressed west became ever more spectacular, with dark lakes shimmering with a thin skim of ice on the surface. The traffic became less, and the mountains appeared on the horizon. After two and a half hours of driving I left the freeway and took the route signposted for ‘The Berkshires’ and soon was driving through the pretty town of Lee and on towards Lenox. By this time the final qualifying session for the Formula 1 Grand Prix was starting, and I was able to listen to the radio coverage, via the F1 App on my phone connected to the car’s audio system: it is amazing what we take for granted now and how technology has advanced during my years of touring (remembering the old days of trying to connect a large heavy laptop to a modem, and enduring the whining, beeping and screeching of the dial-up connection). On the final miles of my drive, I listened to the first two thirds of the action until I pulled up outside The Courtyard by Marriott in Lenox.

As I unloaded my bags, I suddenly realised how much I have relied on Marriott during this tour. Not only have I stayed in hotels run by the company in Long Island, Nashua and now here in Lenox, but also my PCR Covid test was conducted in a Courtyard hotel in Oxford, before I left England.

I checked in as quickly as I could and then rushed up to the room to catch the final moments of qualifying on the TV, and I wasn’t to be disappointed as it came to a thrilling climax, with one of the two drivers still fighting for the World Championship crashing out at the very final corner of the very final lap.

I didn’t have much time in the hotel as it was now 1pm and I had to be at my next venue at 1.30. I quickly ate a chicken salad (which Joe had bought for me before the show in Manchester, but which I had not eaten, and it had remained well refrigerated in the car overnight), gathered my belongings and hurried out, not forgetting to take the little carboard sleeve that my room keys were held in, for I have reached that time of the trip where I struggle to remember not only the number of my room, but even the floor I am on!

My venue in Lenox is Ventfort Hall, a beautiful mansion built at the end of the 19th Century for Sarah Morgan, who was the sister of J Pierpont Morgan, which is an interesting connection in itself, in that the original handwritten manuscript of A Christmas Carol was purchased by Morgan and is annualy displayed in the library bearing his name in New York City. I have performed at Ventfort on two previous occasions, and it is a great venue, with the ambience of the small and elegant room really adding something to the storytelling – actually, it is very simmilar to the General Crook House in Omaha. In previous years we have seated an audience of 80 in the little parlour, packed hard in with not an inch of space left. But this year, due to Covid, the audience numbers had been reduced and the seats spaced out. I was greeted by Haley who looks after the running of the house and who has a background in theatrical stage managegement, and she ran through the precautions with me. The audience would all be masked and would all be required to show their vaccination certificate before admission. On the stage, or at least, on the floor at the end of the room where I was performing, she had stuck a line of blue tape, which marked 6 feet from the front row, and that was my ‘acting line’. I placed the props, having changed a very elegant and obviously antique chair for one that I could stand on. When the stage was ready, I introduced to Chris who would be operating my sound cues. Chris had also supplied the wooden stool for the set, from his own home, so I asked him if it was ok to knock on it with my wooden cane, for that tends to leave little indentations, and he said he would be delighted and honoured to have such a souvenir of the show in his house!

The view from the blue line, with Chris’s stool in the foreground.

It was getting towards 2.15 now and some of the first guests were beginning to arrive, so I retired to my ‘dressing room’, which is in fact the room where Sarah Morgan dressed. I had a chaise longue at my disposal, and a table laid with a bottle of champagne and a plate of strawberries (all fake, unfortunately!)

I changed into my costume and waited for the 3pm start time, and when Hayley gave me the word, I went into the great hall ready to walk through the audience and to begin.

It was strange experience to be in a room of fully masked people without wearing one myself, and I half wondered if I should have done the show masked, but there is no way that could have worked. I made sure that I remained behind my blue line as much as I could (which led to a somewhat linear performance).

The audience were a little quiet at first, maybe sharing my uncertainties about being in this confined space together, but soon the atmosphere began to lighten, and laughter filled the little parlour, and at the end as I took my bows the 50 strong audience stood and cheered.

We had a short Q&A session and then the audience left the room to have an elegant tea at tables spread throughout the house. Usually I would join them, but this year I returned to my changing room, where I noticed a plate of cakes, sandwiches and fancies had been left for me – they were on the table next to the champagne and strawberries, so I had to check that they were, in fact, real; and they were, deliciously real.

I changed back into my normal clothes and slipped out of the house in as inconspicuous manner as I could manage considering I was wearing a bright red Christmas sweater, and drove back to my hotel admiring the Christmas lights which decorated the town of Lenox.

I was due to be taken out to dinner in the evening and Hayley had offered to pick me up at 7 o’clock. There was light snow flurrying in the air and my beanie hat and gloves were still in the car, which sat glowing richly in the winter night.

Fully wrapped up against the chill of the evening I waited for Hayley who arrived bang on time, and we drove to the nearby town of Great Barrington where we joined Alice, Patrick and Stephen in ’10’, a restaurant specialising in steaks. We have all met and dined together before and it was great to get together once more and pick up where we left off, two or three years ago. The food was as fine as the company, and we shared a convivial evening with plenty of laughter, although perhaps inevitably the conversation continually returned to Covid issues.

After the last of the desserts had been finished, we left 10 and said our various goodbyes. Patrick and Stephen would be driving me back to Lenox, as Hayley lives in Great Barrington, and as we drove we talked about the power of American Equity, the actors’ union, as well as the benefits and frailties of the British National Health Service – not bad for a thirty-minute drive!

Back at The Courtyard I checked my little cardboard sleeve to confirm where my room was and retired for the night.

A Christmas Joke

Tags

A Christmas Carol, A Christmas Carol film, Charles Dickens, Christmas Cracker Jokes, Dickensian, Tesla, United Methodist Church

Tuesday saw me back on the performance trail once more with a visit to my old friends in Burlington, New Jersey. When Pam Byers had first planned this part of the tour I was scheduled to be on the West Coast at Rogers Gardens nursery in California, but unfortunately due to many of their staff not being fully vaccinated Rogers had to cancel their booking. It is ironic in a way because the Rogers venue is an open air amphitheatre and would probably have been the safest place to perform of any on the trip.

With the Rogers’ booking gone a gap opened up and Pam approached a few venues to see if they could plan a date at short notice and the team from Burlington leapt at the chance. They only had two weeks to plan the event but they wanted me to return and were not going to miss this opportunity.

On Tuesday morning I spent time in the apartment and decided to begin work on a new book – a sort of autobiography concentrating on my memories of life on the road, which you never know may be available in time for next years’ trip. I spent an hour or two wallowing in nostalgia until the clock ticked round to 11 – time to leave.

Bob had very kindly given me the use of his car during my stay in Philadelphia, although I had not yet availed myself of it, but now I would need it to drive the forty minutes or so to the Broad Street United Methodist Church in Burlington. But this wasn’t just any car, this was Bob’s new acquisition – a Tesla. I have never driven one of Mr Musk’s creations before and I was most curious to get behind the wheel and see what the future of motoring is like. I was also very very nervous as the streets in the centre of Philadelphia are both narrow and busy. The first problem I had was actually getting into the thing. The ‘key’ is nothing more than a credit card but it has a picture on the back of how to unlock the car – one has to wave it over a sensor built into the door frame. I waved and waved, and swiped and pressed but open the door did not. I went to the other side and tried there too, still with no luck. I returned to the driver’s side again and continued my efforts and began to think that the key must have deactivated like hotel room keys sometimes do when you store them next to a smart phone. And then I realised what the problem was – the spot I was waving at was actually one of the many mini cameras built into the body of the car and the invisible sensor was elsewhere. At last the lights flashed, the horn beeped and the lock clunked open. If there had been a security guard watching I must surely have looked like car thief trying to break in.

Once loaded up I sat in the drivers seat for the first time. The Tesla is a clever bit of design because although futuristic (no dash, no dials, just a large i-pad affair in the centre), it is familiar enough so as not to be daunting to a driver. There are two pedals arranged in the traditional manor, break and accelerator (One can’t call it a gas pedal as no gas is involved, probably something like a ‘pace actuator’ would be accurate) and a circular steering wheel. If Tesla had wanted to they could have gone fully radical and used a hand operated joystick to control both speed and direction, but by designing their vehicle in the traditional layout it means that anyone can hop in and drive it. If they can get it moving that is. When Bob had driven me into the city from the airport two nights previously he had given me a few pointers, one of which was getting the car running – so long as the keycard is in the car all you need to do is select drive and go. I selected drive, but nothing happened. I selected reverse and the i-pad lit up with camera shots of the parking garage, but still no motor. I selected drive again: nothing. Silence. And then it dawned on me, for silence is what this vehicle is all about. I tentatively put my foot on the pace actuator and sure enough forward I crept. A very odd feeling to have no audible conformation that the engine, sorry the motors, are operating.

On the road the Tesla has to be steered and manoeuvred like any other car but it goes out of its way to help you, on the screen there is an image of your vehicle at the centre with ghostly real-time representations of all of the other cars and trucks around you – these the result of the mini cameras which I was so fervently waving the keycard at earlier. If space is tight a yellow warning flashes up and if space gets very tight an amber and then a red light flashes up, and with plenty of construction in the city I was in the amber and red zone a great deal. The great danger is that you spend too much time looking at the screen and not the road itself. One on the freeway I could really feel what the car can do and it is remarkable. The acceleration is instant and amazing, surging forward in a way that an internal combustion engined car just cant, but the real revelation is the ‘engine braking’ for want of a better term. When you take your foot off the pedal it is as if someone has thrown an anchor out, for the retardation is sudden, almost violent. It soon became apparent that you never have to touch the brake pedal, the speed actuator does it all – even coming to stop at traffic lights, just lifting your right foot is all that is needed. I assumed that the car is programmed to show brake lights when the slowing and this was confirmed when I noticed that the image of the car on the screen showed the red light at the rear at such moments.

And once you are used to these little eccentricities the Tesla becomes just another car and a very very nice one it is.

Before travelling to the Church I wanted to stop at a Walmart for I had a little idea for the show that I was keen to try out at Burlington (it is a funny thing, and a coincidence, but I have introduced many new ideas into the show at Burlington over the years). Having made my simple purchase I drove onto Broad Street and entered the familiar old building and there waiting for me was the old gang – Laura, Marcia, Brian, Bill and the whole crowd of volunteers who make my time there so enjoyable.

My dressing room had undergone a change over the past two years, it was no longer a quiet room for reflection but had been repurposed as a nursery – I had a lovely mat on the floor with a road system on it, so I could push my toy cars around making ‘brumm brumm’ sounds (no Tesla’s in toyland!) and a number of cots with changing mats on. In the centre of the room was table loaded with fruit and cookies and water and snacks.

As soon as I was settled Marcia brought me a teapot of boiling water and I pored myself a cup of tea in a china cup, which was very civilised.

Next on the agenda was to liaise with Brian over the sound cues. In past years the church hadn’t had a sound system suitable for operating multiple sound cues and we had made do with just the opening music to accompany my entrance, but this year Brian was set up with a laptop and amplifier, so we could go the whole hog with all six cues. Once the sound checks were completed I returned to the dressing room to prepare for the show.

During the performance in the auditorium at Omaha when the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come first made an appearance I had folded the collar of my black frock coat up and opened up the lapels in an effort to cover my bright waistcoat, thereby creating a fully black spectral image, but the black and gold could still be seen. Would it work, I wondered, if I attached small Velcro pads to the lapels, meaning they could stay firmly sealed during those few moments, and that is what I had purchased at WalMart – little self adhesive Velcro dots. I fixed them to the coat and sure enough the effect worked (I looked rather like an assassin actually). But would it work during a performance? I was about to find out, for 2 o’clock was approaching.

With only two weeks to prepare for these two shows Laura hadn’t had much time to do any effective marketing, so the audience numbers were very low, but that didn’t really matter – just being there and doing a show was the important thing. Marcia later told me that in agreeing to stage my event the Church board had decided to restart their programmes of music and other entertainment in the sanctuary, so this was an important day.

When we were all ready to start Laura walked onto the stage and gave me a wonderful introduction as well as really plugging my book (mentioning that it is available on Amazon, which may be of interest to readers), and then left the stage to me. Brian started the music and I entered.

The first audience numbered only around 30, so it was quite a quiet show, but I did a good job. The ‘stage’ at Broad Street has always leant itself to the moments of audience participation (Topper’s girl, people jostling in busy streets, shaking hands on Christmas morning etc), but obviously this year there can be none of that, so I remained on the dais and performed as if on a theatrical stage, which although loses that joyful and playful connection between performer and audience, it does make for a tighter, more dramatic show.

I slightly spoiled the black ghost moment by closing the lapels on my coat too early, thereby revealing the effect before the ghost was mentioned, but the theory proved correct and with a little tweaking it should work well. At the end end of the show the audience stood and applauded, which was very gratifying and then we settled into a question and answer session. During this year’s trip I am not doing any signing sessions after shows, so we decided that it would be a good idea to do a little Q&A to make that connection between me and the audience. One lady asked what did I feel was the most important moment in the story, she believed that it was the revealing of the children Ignorance and Want, which is certainly true and that moment represents Dickens’ reasons for writing the story. As an alternative answer I mentioned the moment that Scrooge sees himself at the school and remembers the carol singer that he had sent packing: ‘I wish I could have given him a little something. It is an important part of the narrative because it shows that Scrooge’s reformation begins right at the very start of his journey – after that he wants to change and when the second ghost comes to visit Scrooge actually says – ‘I went forth last night on compulsion, but I did learn a lesson that is working for me now. Tonight, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it.’

We wound up the questions and I took another bow before going back the nursery to change. It has been traditional for all of the volunteers to have dinner at a nearby restaurant between the two shows, and we did this again, all masked up and spread out around a long table. It felt slightly odd, I have to say, and although the company was excellent as was the fare, I was quite relived when we dispersed. There was just over an hour until the second show so I lay on a sofa and grabbed a little rest before getting ready for round two.

The evening’s audience was larger and a lot more vocal (many people had obviously seen me perform before, for hoots of laughter was coming in ahead of various lines!) I timed the closing of the frock coat much more effectively this time and hopefully looked suitably sombre and threatening. At the end I received a lovely ovation with the audience standing as I took my bows. On this occasion the question and answer session was slow to get going, so much so that Laura chimed in with the ‘what is your favourite movie version’ question just to get things going. However, soon the floodgates opened and we had a great time: where did Dickens get his inspiration for the scenes of poverty in his works? How did I come up with the idea for a one man show? Had I seen the Dickensian TV series and what did I think?

But there was one question that stumped me completely, it came from a younger member of the audience and was ‘what is your favourite Christmas joke?’ I went completely blank, I couldn’t think of a good joke to tell her. I talked about the British tradition of Christmas crackers and the appallingly bad jokes that generations of families have hooted with mirth at, but nothing came to mind. In the end I told the girl that she would need to read my blog post and I would find a Christmas Cracker joke for her:

What did Adam say on the day before Christmas? ‘It’s Christmas, Eve!’

and a bonus one:

What goes Oh! Oh! Oh!? Santa walking backwards!

My work here is done!

I changed quickly and having said my goodbyes I purred my way back to Philadelphia in the Tesla. Unfortunately when I got to the apartment block I discovered that construction crews were resurfacing the roads around it meaning that I was unable to get to the parking garage. I drove around for a while until I found public parking lot nearby, and paid for a night’s parking.

As is usual after a show my mind was still buzzing so I sat up for a while and ate a little blueberry pie that I had purchased at Wal-Mart, as well as some cookies that Marcia had insisted I take on the road with me. Eventually though tiredness came upon me and another day drew to a close.

A Triple Header

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biogrpahy of a Rail Crash, Doctor Marigold, Douglas County Historical Society, Mid Continent Public Library, The Signalman

After getting through the first day’s performing unscathed day two dawned with the prospect of a lovely, lazy morning to catch up, and the chance to rest and regroup. With nothing officially due to happen until 1 I had the first half of the day purely to myself.

I wrote my blog post in bed, and sipped coffee whilst watching the TV. After a while I got up and did a ‘gabble rehearsal’ of Doctor Marigold which I was due to perform in the evening. A gabble rehearsal is when I run through the lines of a show as fast as I can, with no pauses or even any intonation, purely to ensure that the words are fixed in the memory. Having performed Marigold only a week or so ago back in England, everything seemed well set. It would have been interesting to time the run through and see what my personal best is! At 7 I went to the lobby for breakfast and once again sat apart from the other guests. I am reading a lovely book that Liz gave me for my birthday, ‘A Large Measure of Snow’ about a tiny Scottish fishing village marooned by a blizzard, and it was a lovely change to turn pages instead of scrolling.

Back in my room I sorted out costumes for later on and then flicked through TV channels until I found live coverage of the Manchester football derby match (football in the British sense when the players kick the ball with their feet, rather than the American version when they throw the ball to each other). It was a rather one sided match and Manchester City beat United 2-0.

With the match over I decided to take a stroll outside, and the weather was surprisingly warm as I walked through the little park outside the hotel and through the streets. In the summer this park is the venue for music concerts and as it is set on the side of a hill it must be a perfect spot to picnic and listen. The Midtown Crossing development was built in 2010 and horseshoes around the top of Turner Park featuring blocks of apartments, as well as restaurants and cafes, it is a lovely spot and I enjoyed my walk.

I finished up in the grocery store which is built into the development and purchased a few things for my lunch – the room at the Element is a little suite with a cooker and fridge built in, so I bought a microwavable Chicken stir fry and some fruit and returned to my room.

Now it was time to give The Signalman the gabble treatment and having completed that run I prepared my lunch which I ate while listening to the final practice session from the Mexican Formula 1 Grand Prix which is being held over this weekend.

1 o’clock was fast approaching so I collected up the various costumes and props that I would need for the afternoon and went down to the lobby where Frank was once again waiting for me. We loaded everything into his truck and drove the short distance to the Daniel J Gross High School in Omaha where I was to perform A Christmas Carol. The event was The Historical Society’s traditional tea performance, which in past years has always been held at the Field Club – a golf club with an elegant clubhouse. This year, however, Kathy couldn’t get a booking for love nor money, for all of the weddings that had been postponed in 2020 had now re-booked meaning there was not a chance of securing a weekend date, so the search went for another venue and the High School came up trumps. It boasts a very large reception area where tables could be set out for tea and then right next door an impressive auditorium where the guests could watch the show.

As Frank and I drove up we were deep in conversation about auto racing, having discovered a mutual passion for the sport – Frank had raced a little in Omaha and shared some wonderful memories of those times. We pulled up in the parking lot and there to greet us was ‘Flat Gerald’ a life sized cardboard cut out that Kathy had made many years ago: Flat Gerald is a great deal flatter and slimmer than the current version!

Having said hello to everyone I was shown into the beautiful auditorium where I was introduced to Becca, the drama teacher at the school, who would be looking after my lighting and sound requirements during the afternoon. Becca used to be an opera singer, before family and teaching, and now she is looking to get back to the performance side of her career again, having been teaching at the school for 9 years. It is always nice to tolk with a like minded soul about theatre and life on the road. I went onto the stage and started a few lines of the show and discovered that the acoustic in the hall was amazing. Without even making any effort I could hear and feel the air resonate with my words. It was apparent that I could quite easily do this show without amplification, but we decided to try with a mic too, which sounded equally good. Becca and I talked it over for a while and decided to go with the mic, bearing in mind the demographic of much of the audience.

Having made all of the preparations, and hidden the two little mice under the chair, I retired to a large room which had been designated as my dressing room and waited until the guests outside devoured their sandwiches, cones, fancies and cakes. At 3 o’clock I was ready to go and made my way into the wing space and waited for Kathy to welcome me. It was interesting that knowing how amazing the acoustic was, I couldn’t hear a word that she said – the stage and auditorium were perfectly designed to project the words forwards, not back. I knew that it was time to start because in the lighting box Becca brought the lights to black and started my first music Cue. As I walked onto the stage the lights slowly rose again creating a suitably eerie atmosphere for Marley’s funeral cortege as it makes its way to the graveside.

I was really really pleased with the show – plenty of space to roam around in, a receptive and playful audience, an expert on the tech side – everything came together to work perfectly. I felt very energised and buzzy at the end as I got changed and packed my things up. By the time I emerged from my dressing room all of the guests had left (we are not doing any signing sessions at any of the shows this year, for obvious reasons) and Frank had collected up all of props from the stage. Alarmingly he had also loaded Flat Gerald into the boot of his car, and as we sat in the front seats there was a terrible sensation of being watched from the back…..

I had a little time to spare before we were due at the next event, so Frank dropped me off at the hotel and I could relax for a little. I drank plenty of water and ate a banana before showering and getting into costume for the second show of the day: The Signalman. Frank picked me up at 6.15 and drove me to The Crook House, the headquarters of the DCHS, and where I would be giving my evening performances. The Crook House is a charming Victorian mansion and is a perfect setting to give a smaller performance in – this year Kathy had chosen the double bill of The Signalman and Doctor Marigold both of which suited the intimate nature of the venue.

As I walked in the back door the pre show buffet, catered as ever by the supremely talented Chef Mario, was in full swing and the first person I bumped into was Lee Phillips – my former driver in Omaha, who had relinquished the duties to Frank due to the terrible year that he and his wife Suzie have endured. Suzie and Lee are dear friends to both Liz and I and came to stay with us in Abingdon a few years ago, so it was with great alarm when we heard that Suzie had sustained a serious head injury when she had fallen doing some weeding in a neighbour’s garden. But she is a strong lady, and when she greeted me in the hallway of The Crook House she looked fit, well and happy, it was lovely to see her and Lee again.

At 7 pm the guests gathered in the dining room (converted into a theatre with a small stage at one end) and Kathy introduced me. I talked a little bit about the circumstances behind the Staplehurst rail disaster, not forgetting to mention the title of my book: (‘Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biography of a Rail Crash’, available via my website or Amazon), and then I addressed the audience in the guise of the elderly man recollecting the circumstances of meeting a lonely signalman in his remote signal box. Behind me the bay window was framed with a giant dark wood arch which represented the tunnel to perfection, and on a lighting sconce to one side a lavish bow of red ribbon had been hung which doubled as the mournful danger light which so torments the poor signalman. A perfect setting for a gothic ghost story.

When I brought the performance to an end, I dived into Kath’s office and shed the all black Victorian garb that I had been wearing and clambered into the rustic britches, shirt and waistcoat of Doctor Marigold who was to entertain the guests for the second half of the evening. By the time I returned glasses had been recharged and everyone was ready to go again. Once more the style of Marigold fitted the venue perfectly, as the story features a single character talking directly to his audience in a very intimate way – he entertains them with is witty sales patter, but also shares his darkest saddest hours with them.

When Charles Dickens used to perform the piece his tour manager George Dolby, who would watch the show from the wings, remarked how there was an audible gasp at the very end of the piece, and I can assure the ghosts of both Dolby and Dickens, that in 2021 the gasp and sobs are still there. Doctor Marigold is an amazing piece of work and my favourite to perform. Whenever I finish it, and this was certainly the case on Saturday night, I am very emotional and take quite a while to, as Marigold himself would say, ‘shake myself together’

From the dining room we moved into the parlour (although it had been repurposed as a dining room) and gathered around the table as Suzie delivered one of her beautifully written toasts to my visit and the Historical Society. We all chinked glasses and sipped champagne.

The guests gathered their coats and made their way into the warm night unto once more it was only Kathy, Frank and myself in the old pile.

Getting these two days together had been difficult for Kathy, but it was an important statement of intend from the Historical Society: ‘We are here! We are open! Things are happening!’ and I was glad, very glad, to have been part of it – I have so many good friends in Omaha and it was a pleasure to return in 2021.

Frank drove me back to the hotel and we said our goodbyes, and I returned to room 615 where I stayed up a while eating the delicious food that Mario had plated up for me.

And so the first leg of the trip is over. On Sunday I fly east where I will have a few days to myself in Philadelphia and a performance in New Jersey, before returning to the Midwest next week to perform for the Mid Continent Public Library Service in Missouri.