Emergency Warnings at The Word

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Gerald Dickens: My Life on the Road With A Christmas Carol, South Shields, The London Marathon, The Word

On Friday 23 December I finished my 2022 tour by performing at the Guildhall in Leicester. On Sunday 23 April, 4 months later, I performed again, for the first time since my various medical shenanigans laid me low. A quarter of year is a long time to be off the stage and I was worried that I may be a bit ring rusty. The show in question was my adaptation of The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby, one of the very first shows that I adapted in the early 1990s.

A few weeks ago I started to go through the lines and to my delight discovered that they came back to me as quick as you like. On the whole my various scripts settle into different tiers of memory, there are those that I can just step up and perform with little preparation (A Christmas Carol, Mr Dickens is Coming! and Nicholas Nickleby fall into that category). Next there are a couple of scripts which are NEARLY there, The Signalman and Doctor Marigold need a little work before I perform them, but not much. The next tier has one script in it, and that is Great Expectations, which needs quite a bit of rehearsing before I am confident of taking it onto the stage, and then there is a collection of old shows that I haven’t done for years, any one of which would need me to start from scratch to build up to a performance (Top Hole, The Complete Works of Charles Dickens, To Begin With, A Tale of Two Cities and some others). It so happens that the week after Nickleby I will be performing Great Expectations, so most of my time over the past days has been spent on that show, making sure that the lines are properly in my mind.

Back to Nickleby on the 23rd and I was due to travel to the far North East of England to perform once more in the amazing Word Library in South Shields. Usually I would pack all of the props into my car for the journey North, but this week was different for Liz’s car has been undergoing some fairly major repairs (a replacement cylinder head gasket), and was still in the garage, and we were down to one car between us, and she would need it at home, so I hired a small van. On Saturday I loaded all of the furniture and props that I would need: the red reading desk, a chair, a frame and red fabric to make a screen, the little octagonal table and a chair (both of which I treated with furniture polish, for they looked rather faded and tired after a long period of storage), my heavy prop box containing various smaller items that I would need, including a rope noose and a large book. I packed various items of merchandise as well as my costume and I would be ready to leave early on Sunday morning.

The drive to South Shields takes around 4 1/2 hours, and as my show was an early one, starting at 2pm, I would need to be there by 12.30, which meant setting off at 7.30 (allowing time for stops for coffee and maybe a bite of early lunch.) I felt great in my little white van, and the traffic was light that early. The morning radio programme was covering the build up to The London Marathon and I felt a sense of excitement for the runners, remembering my experiences last October when I ran in the Oxford Half Marathon. I had some friends running, but the competitor I was most in awe of was my nephew Guy, who was running to raise funds for the Macmillan Cancer charity – of course this was impressive enough in its own right, but in Guy’s case he was running despite the fact that he is in the middle of his own course of chemotherapy treatment.

As the journey went on, I ran through some of my lines, making sure that the Nickleby script really was in my head and hadn’t been driven out by the hard work I’d been putting in on Great Expectations. Fortunately all the lines came naturally, and I could be sure that I would be in a safe place when I stepped onto the stage later that day. I also played my ‘Car Alphabet’ game, when I have to spot cars with the make or model names staring with each letter of the alphabet in order. Many of the letters are easy – Audi, BMW, Citroen etc, but there are a few traditional stumbling blocks, O, for instance (Skoda Octavia is the best bet, but unless I am following one it is difficult to differentiate between an Octavia and a Superb), and my real nemesis is W, for which there are only 3 cars that qualify and none of them are very popular in England, one is the Jeep Wrangler, another is a Suzuki Wagon R and the third is a Renault Wind. It was the last of these which came to my rescue on Sunday morning, for a black example was being ignominiously carried on the back of a breakdown truck in front of me. A successful journey through the alphabet always bodes well for a positive day and a good performance, so I felt very satisfied when I finally ticked off the final Z as I overtook a Vauxhall Zafira.

Into Derbyshire the heavens opened and the journey became a lot less fun, for the road surface was flooded and there was a very real danger of aquaplaning on the slick surface. I had plenty of time in hand, so took things very cautiously. I was soon through the worst of the weather and as I passed through Yorkshire and on towards Tyneside, the skies were blue and the spring colours glorious. I arrived in South Shields at around 12 and having bought a sandwich from a local supermarket I pulled my van onto the pavement outside the impressive circular building that was designed to represent an open book’s pages being flicked through, and called my contact at The Word, Pauline Martin.

In no time a door opened and together we unloaded my van. The room in which I perform is on the very top floor, so we filled one of the lifts with the equipment and made our way up.

As I set the stage I realised that I had actually brought too much furniture – all of those hours rehearsing Great Expectations had convinced me that I needed a table and a few other props, which in fact would remain redundant for another six days.

When the set was ready and I had changed into my costume it was time to let the audience in. They are a loyal and extremely friendly bunch in the North East, and I was able to circulate and chat as they took their seats. Pauline was at the door welcoming them all with a smile, but also with a stern warning – ‘turn your phone OFF or I shall be rugby tackling you at 3 o’clock!’ This may seem a somewhat severe greeting, but it was with good reason, for at the aforementioned time (when I would be nearing the end of my show) the British government was due to test its National Emergency Alarm which involved a screeching, piercing warning which eventually will be used to alert the population to fire, flood and terrorist attacks. Setting a phone to silent would not be enough, they had to be turned off completely, hence Pauline’s threats.

2pm ticked round and Pauline said a few words of welcome before I took to the stage. The beginning of Nickleby features me as me, explaining why I have chosen this particular novel to perform, and I explain the circumstances that took me from schoolboy Dickens-hater, to an evangelistic portrayer of his words. Many of you may know that the Royal Shakespeare Company’s amazing adaptation of NickNick had a profound effect on me. Fortunately for those of you who don’t know the story, it will be related in full in my new book ‘Gerald Dickens: My Life On The Road With A Christmas Carol’ to be published later this year.

Once the preamble was finished I launched into the story itself and assumed the multiple characters of various Nickleby’s, most particularly young Nicholas and his evil uncle Ralph, the inhabitants of Dotheboy’s Hall including Mr and Mrs Squeers and their daughter Fanny, the poor drudge Smike, and the theatrical troupe belonging to the ebullient Mr Vincent Crummles. I loved every second of the performance and it was a pleasure to be on stage again, working hard. As I began the very final scene, which is quite tender and quiet, of course one phone had been left on and sure enough the Emergency Alarm sounded, fortunately Pauline did not carry out her rugby tackling threat. Actually the alarm wasn’t too loud, and didn’t last too long. I brought the story to a close and to me surprise and delight the audience stood as they applauded me. I took a few bows, and then when the clapping subsided I hosted a short Q&A session. I had a bet with myself about what the first question would be, and I won: ‘What do you think of the new television version of Great Expectations?’ I will not go into my answer here, maybe that is for another blog post, but the show has certainly excited some controversy among the various online Dickens communities, with its violent, gritty, foul-mouthed and sadistic plotlines.

The questions moved on to the RSC’s production of Nickleby, and what is my favourite novel, and all too soon it was time to wind up. I stood in the room and chatted more with the audience, and sold a few items of merchandise, until the room was empty and it was time to load all of the props back into the lift, retrieve my van and bid farewell to Pauline and The Word for a few more months (I will be back there in November with A Christmas Carol.)

I had decided to stay in the heart of the city of Newcastle that night, actually in the hotel I use when I am performing at The Lit and Phil, so I would be in familiar surroundings. As I drove away from South Shields the sports radio station that I had been listening to that morning was now broadcasting the final minutes of Newcastle United against Tottenham Hotspur, being played in Newcastle – the score was 6-1 to the home team, it was going to be a lively night next to the Tyne! Sure enough as I arrived, the streets were awash with fans in their black and white striped shirts in good voice, while I am sure any remaining Spurs fans were slinking quietly back south.

I parked near to the hotel, checked in and then dozed on and off for the rest of the afternoon, until it was time for dinner. The hotel has a small bar in the lobby, mainly for breakfast, but they serve a small dinner menu too, so I sat at a table, the only diner, and ordered a steak pie and mash, It seemed to take an age to prepare and arrive, which seeing I was their only customer seemed strange, but in time the door opened and a lady appeared holding a plate. She peered all around the room until eventually her eye fell on me, ‘Is this for you?’ she asked, somewhat unnecessarily, I replied in the affirmative, and she placed the plate in front of me. When I had finished, I decided to order some dessert, and sure enough a little while later the door opened and the lady stood, bowl in hand, peering around the room again, until her eye once more fell on me. I waited. ‘Is this for you?’ she asked.

Early the next morning I started my long journey home to Oxfordshire. I always enjoy being in the North East, and this trip had been as fun and as successful as my previous ones.

I would like to finish by congratulating my cousin Guy, who not only completed the London Marathon, but completely BLITZED it. His time was 3 hours 53.15 and his split times were all under 9 minute miles – his consistency was remarkable, and this with a body undergoing the rigours of fortnightly chemotherapy. As I write he has raised nearly £4,000 for Macmillan Cancer Support, but I know he would like to raise more, so if anyone would like to support and congratulate my amazing nephew, then here is his JustGiving link:

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/guyslondonmarathon23?checkoutMode=Headless%3Futm_source%3Dfacebook&fbclid=IwAR2YE3DhVsaggDSVNSB4IdNlkVdx_-yQV35J80g5Sh06HzDjUpbU7mvVycE

Next Saturday I will be performing Great Expectations, and I will update you with how things go with that!

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.

Hyde Festival Theatre for Willow Wood Hospice

Tags

A Christmas Carol, A Christmas Carol film, Brontes, Charles Dickens, Corronation Street, Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biogrpahy of a Rail Crash, Ebenezer Scrooge, Haworth, Hyde Festival Theatre, Leeds Library, Mark Llewellin, Roy Barraclough, Willow Wood Hospice, Wuthering Heights

I actually slept for a remarkably long time in my Leeds hotel room, not waking until 7.30, which is almost unheard of for me. I made some coffee and started my blog writing, before going to the restaurant for breakfast at around 8.30. It was a standard but extensive buffet, and I made full use of it.

I had said to Ian that I would go and collect my things from the library in the morning, so after breakfast I packed up my bag in readiness for check out, and then walked into the streets of Leeds, which were already packed and bustling. It really struck me both in Leeds and in York the day before, how busy the city centres, what Americans refer to as downtown, were compared to the relative ghost town of Minneapolis where I had been a few days before.

I arrived at the library shortly after 10 and initially thought I would need to make two journeys but having taken my roller bag back to the hotel the night before, I managed to balance everything (costumes, hat, scarf, cane, merchandise and stool) in one precariously balanced load. I said my goodbyes and tottered through the Christmas shoppers, through the railway station, where the progress of a man with two frock coats, a top hat and a stool was ignored in favour of a group of about ten men dressed in skintight lycra leopard-print all-in-ones, with skimpy grass skirts and curly black wigs. I returned to the car, got all of my things loaded and then went back to the hotel to plan my day. It was raining hard now, very hard (hence my detour through the station concourse). My evening show was to be near Manchester, which was not a long drive, so I had to find something to fill my day. I had originally thought about driving to Haworth, the home of the Bronte sisters, but the weather didn’t seem to be in favour of that. However, a drive out to the moors may be fun, so I decided to continue with that plan.

I finished packing and checked out and made a wet dash for the car. I set the satnav for the Bronte Parsonage Museum and set bout through the wet, glistening streets of Leeds. The route took me to Bradford and from there into the countryside, and as I left the urban sprawl behind me, so the clouds cleared, and the sun began to shine. I drove into the little village and up the steep hill where there was a car cark for the museum, but it was full, so I drove on and out into the countryside. I found a little parking place next to some paths and made my way up onto the moor. It was not wild nor windy, but the views across the valley were stunning, and I just continued to walk, further up, taking this path, then another. On my side of the slope there was heather and wild bilberry bushes, on the opposite side was typical Yorkshire dry-stone walls separating the fields. It was truly idyllic and energising, and I loved every minute.

After a while I began to make my way back down the hill and returned to the car, I drove back into the village (the museum car park was still full, and I didn’t feel I needed to visit anyway, for I had experienced what I had come for). At the bottom of the village was a little railway station, and the crowds gathering suggested that a train was due, and on close investigation I discovered that it was a heritage steam railway. I didn’t want to take a trip but having seen the static locomotives in York the day before it would be nice to see one in full steam, panting, puffing and doing what it was built to do. There was a little footbridge over the track and as the train passed underneath me, I was engulfed in clouds of damp, musty steam. I hurried down to the platform where families, and camera-toting gentlemen wearing anoraks (I was obviously wearing a high-tec walking jacket and was toting a Samsung phone), were climbing aboard. I stood close to the locomotive and as the whistle blew and the green flag was waved, the driver opened the regulator valve and the whole animal let out a deep guttural CHUG, and slowly the train left the station.

Before I left, I checked the little gift shop and made a note to send details of my book to them, too! There was a small supermarket across the street, so I bought myself a picnic lunch and drove up into the hills, found a layby with a view and listened to the qualifying session from the Grand Prix in Abu Dhabi.

By now the afternoon was moving on, so I set the satnav for the Hyde Festival Theatre and heading off towards the urban sprawl of Manchester. It was around 4pm when I arrived in Hyde, and I was not due at the theatre until 6, so I found a local coffee shop and finished the previous day’s blog post, before going back to the car. I decided that it was not worth waiting any longer, so drove to the theatre where my ring at the door was instantly answered by Dan, the theatre’s manager. Through the small foyer and box office area and there I was in a beautiful auditorium, complete with what had once been a very grand circle, with white plaster mouldings on a grey background. The theatre had been built as a cinema in the early 20th Century, since when it has undergone various periods of success as a theatre, most recently being run and promoted by an ambitious team who are desperate to make it a thriving part of the community once more. As well as the theatre staff I was also greeted by Mark Llewellin, the gentleman who had booked me for the evening. I had first met Mark and his partner Roy many years before on a cruise ship, and they had enjoyed my performance of A Christmas Carol back then. Now Mark is responsible for fundraising at a local hospice and had contacted me to perform on their behalf.

Mark and Roy, who died at the hospice 5 years ago, had both had long careers in theatre. Roy Barraclough had been a very popular television actor, appearing for many years in Coronation Street and also creating the comedy duo of Cissy and Ada alongside Les Dawson, but his career stretched much further than television and he was an extremely accomplished stage actor as well. Mark himself has a long history or production, direction and performance in all aspects of the industry, but most of all in Pantomime. Now he tours and talks about many aspects of his life and career – his contact book is indeed veritable who’s who of the world of entertainment.

Almost as soon as I arrived the theatre machine went into overdrive. I had sent my script to Mark who had forwarded it to the tech team, so lighting cues and sound effects were all ready to go. They even asked me if I wanted haze, to create the foggy streets of a London. Yes, please! We did a microphone check, using one of those units that hook over the ears, and which inevitably fall off me, and all was well, although in that lovely auditorium I doubted I would really need one. I went up to the dressing room and hung up my costumes, before going through the extra act two lines again. Mark introduced me to his fundraising team, and it seemed certain that we were going to have a wonderful evening.

The show was due to go up at 7.30, so Mark and I went down to the wings at around 7.20, and we could hear the audience gathering in the auditorium. I paced back and forward behind the tabs, like a caged animal, until it was time to begin. Mark took the stage and said a few words about the hospice, A Christmas Carol and me, and then it was time to begin. The sound effect played, and I walked on, from stage left to stage right and stood over Jacob Marley’s grave. On the third ring of the bell, I gave the ‘harrumph’ sound and instantly knew that the microphone wasn’t working. I hadn’t touched it since the check, unless a lead or something had come loose when I got into costume, but for whatever reason there was no microphone. I simply raised my volume slightly and projected to the very back of the room (advice that Charles Dickens had given to his son, Henry when he was due to give a speech). I didn’t have the whole stage to play with as a set for the forthcoming pantomime was being built, so I only had quite a narrow strip of stage in front of the main curtains, but I had plenty of width to use.

The audience were great and all of the sound and lighting cues (the first venue to provide lighting this year) worked superbly. I left the stage at the interval to great applause and ran up the stairs to the dressing room, where I changed shirts. Dan came up to see what had happened to the microphone, although he said that he had heard all of my lines quite clearly. He replaced the batteries, checked all of the connections and we were good to go again.

Act two was as even more fun than the first and the audience joined in enthusiastically when encouraged to do so and giggled loudly as Mrs C panicked about her Christmas Pudding, this mirth was counterbalanced by the shocked silence that greeted Scrooge’s visit to the Cratchit’s home in deep mourning. At the end of the show the audience started to stand during their applause before I had even left the stage, and the response was amazing.

I hadn’t planned to sell my merchandise at Hyde, rather encouraging the audience to spend their money on the fundraising raffle to which I donated one of my DVDs, but the news that such a product existed encouraged people to ask if there were more available, and Mark said I should go to the foyer and flog a few, which I did. One lady gushed to me about much she had enjoyed the show, going on to say ‘I saw someone else from the family do a show like this a few years ago!’

‘Oh,’ I replied, ‘who was that?’

‘I don’t remember, but he said that he went to America a lot’

‘Well, that SOUNDS like me! I go to America, I am going next week.’

‘It was at Stockport Plaza’

‘Yes! That was me!’

‘Oh, goodness. I was going to say that you are much better than he was!’

I am glad that it was that way round!

Once the audience had left and I had changed, Mark and I joined the theatre team in the bar and wound down with a drink and the sharing of many theatrical anecdotes. Finally, it was time to drive away, and I made my way back to Mark’s house, for he had kindly offered me hospitality. I had some cheese and a cup of tea, as we chatted about theatre and variety, but soon I began to feel the fatigues of the day catching up with me, and having said goodnight, availed myself of a spacious spare room. Another successful day in the winter of ’22

The Hyde show was to raise money for the Willow Wood Hospice, which like all others does sterling work. If you would like to donate to this amazing cause, please follow this link:

https://willowwood.info/support-us/giving/donate

Nobody Puts Mrs F In a Corner

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biogrpahy of a Rail Crash, Ebenezer Scrooge, Leeds, Leeds Library, National Rail Museum, The Met Hotel, The Shambles, The Signalman, York, York Minster

Usually when I wake up in the Sleeperz hotel in Newcastle I have to get on the road early, but on Friday I had a fairly leisurely day ahead of me, with no commitment until the evening, and that was to be in the city of Leeds which was not a huge drive. I had my breakfast at around 8.00, an extensive buffet with plenty of choice, and then returned to my room ready to be on the road by 9am, for, although I had nowhere to be professionally for several hours, I did have a plan for my day. I had decided to drive to the city of York and visit the National Rail Museum, as I had been in touch with them a few times during the research for my book. The drive was about an hour and a half, and I was able to finish the final two episodes of my Formula 1 podcast series, before listening to live coverage of the opening practice sessions from Abu Dhabi.

The start of my journey took me down the busy A1/M trunk road, but soon my Satnav began suggesting alternative turnings across country, and as I had no specific timetable to follow, I thought I would take them. I wound through small market towns and villages, through farmland, passed flooded meadows and across rivers. It was much more fun than maintaining a constant 75 mph (oh, I’m sorry officer, I meant 69.5 mph) on a very busy road.

Eventually I arrived on the outskirts of York and was directed to the Rail Museum’s car park. The National Railway Museum is part of a network across the country under the umbrella of London’s Science Museum, and as such is free (although I did note that the car park would cost me £10!). It is magnificent, you walk into a huge hall, set up with a series of platforms, each with an impressive train (locomotive and carriages) spread out: these are all Royal Trains, with carriages belonging to Victoria, Edward, George and Queen Elizabeth II. Also in this shed is the original Stephenson’s Rocket, one of the most influential of the early locomotives, and which generally settled the standard design for decades to come. From The Station Hall one walks through an underpass and to The Great Hall, and this is where the magnificent collection of giant locomotives are shown off. A giant steam train is a thing of sheer mechanical beauty, I adore them, and looking up at them from ground level, rather than from platform level, reminds you of the sheer scale and power of these beasts, the quality of engineering and design is simply breathtaking. Most prominently displayed in this hall, and quite rightly too, for it has a place in the British psyche alongside the Spitfire, Concorde and the Mini, is the jaw-droppingly elegant and beautiful Mallard. The Mallard was built in1938, using advanced streamlining techniques to make it faster and more efficient. In the year of its launch, it achieved a speed of 126 mph, a record which has never been beaten by any other steam locomotive. Of course, to a petrol-head like me, the streamlining and blue paintwork evoke the record-breaking achievements of Malcolm and Donald Campbell in their Bluebird cars and boats.

One other exhibit which fascinated me was tucked to the side of the hall, and of course was somewhat in the shadow of the great locos, and it was in a very tatty condition, not beautifully restored and painted – it was a passenger carriage dating from 1851, and from the various engravings and photographs from the Staplehurst rail crash, this was the sort of carriage that Charles Dickens, Ellen Ternan and her mother were travelling in on June 9, 1865. I felt quite moved looking at it, imagining Charles clambering from the door, down the embankment to assist his fellow passengers as they lay wounded and dying in the river Beault.

From the Great Hall I returned to the main building and took a look around the gift shop, where I was astounded, nay horrified, to discover that although there were a couple of books relating to Charles Dickens (Tony Williams’ ‘Dickens on Railways’, and A small copy of ‘The Signalman’), there was no copy of ‘Dickens and Staplehurst, A Biography of a Rail Crash’. I immediately sought out the shop manager, who promised to forward my details to the buying team, as she thought it would be an excellent book to sell: well, durr!

By this time, I had exhausted my interest in railwayana and as the city centre was very close, I thought I’d spend a little time strolling up to York Minster. My walk took me right passed the mainline railway station, and this brought back so many very happy childhood memories. In the early 1970s my parents would take us on our summer holidays to a small, remote village in the northeast of Scotland, and there we would spend time as a family swimming, exploring, playing, climbing and just having the most idyllic summers. The village is called Cromarty and still has a grip over me, so much so that when Liz and I married in 2015 it was in the gardens of Cromarty courthouse where we made our vows. We try to return as often as we can, and it is just as beautiful and relaxing as it was when I was a child. So, what does this have to do with York railway station? Back in my days of childhood my father liked to pack the car up with all of our belongings and take an overnight sleeper train to Inverness, whilst the car was loaded onto trucks behind, as part of British Rail’s Motorail service. I am guessing that the Motorail part of the equation didn’t run from London, for we would drive for 5 hours to York and board the train there. The start of the summer holidays coincided with either my mother’s or father’s birthdays (July 29 and August 6 respectively), and there were occasions when we decorated our compartments on the train and had a celebratory picnic before the great diesel engines (one of which had been on display at the museum), began hauling us north. We would settle into our bunk beds as the gentle rhythm of the train lulled us to sleep, and when we woke, answering a deferential knock on the door from the train steward, who left a tray of morning tea and biscuits (always Rich Tea biscuits, and I am sure that’s why I have an enduring love of those very plain items today), we would look out of the window to see moors covered with heather, slashed at points with dark almost black peaty streams, and shining white waterfalls. That blue/purple hue of the terrain can be seen nowhere else and meant that we were in the Highlands. All of that came back to me, as I stood on the busy ring road in York and looked back at the steel arches of the station.

I continued my walk to The Minster and was a little disappointed that would not be able to go inside, as there was a graduation ceremony in full swing, but I strolled around the precincts and admired the fine old building from every angle.

Next, I thought I would continue my walk to The Shambles, a collection of narrow Medieval streets, which are very much a part of York’s appeal to tourists. Indeed, the Shambles were packed, and as I stood at the end looking down the lanes, I thought how this must have been an inspiration for JK Rowling when she hit upon the idea of Diagon Alley in the Harry Potter books. I walked in, and to my dismay discovered that I was not the only one to have had this thought, for rather than the quirky antique shops and small businesses that used to be in The Shambles, there were now Ollivander Wand Shops, outlets to buy Butterbeer and just Potter tat shops. Rather sad.

I was getting hungry by this time and decided to walk back to the Railway Museum and have lunch in the cafe there (the centre of York was so busy, I could imagine myself having to wait an age). The Cafe is set on the Platform in the Station Hall, and the seating is in booths, using carriage benches and tables, as if you were sat on your train setting out on a long journey.

With lunch finished it was time to get back in the car and head to Leeds, where I would be performing that evening. I had booked a hotel in the city centre, an older looking property – The Metropole, or ‘The Met’ as it is currently branded. I thought that I had read online that the hotel had no parking, so I made my way to the nearest public parking garage I could find, attached to Leeds Railway station, and walked the short distance back. Actually, there was a small parking garage, but the desk clerk told me it was full, and there was no guarantee that there would be spaces whenever I returned, so I decided to leave the car where it was.

I had two hours to watch some television and relax on the bed, until it was time to rouse myself and decide how best to get my things from the car to The Leeds Library, the issue being that the venue is in a pedestrianised street, and the nearest parking was a multi-story serving the huge shopping centres nearby. This being the second time that I had performed at the Library I knew that it was difficult to lug pieces of heavy furniture into lifts and through busy shopping streets, so I had asked if the library could provide the set – a chair, a table and a hatstand (I would bring my own stool, as I knock on it with my cane, and didn’t want to damage theirs). But even so I still needed to carry two costumes, a top hat, a scarf, my roller case, and a box of merchandise. I looked at the map on my phone and realised that my best bet was simply to leave the car at the station and make two trips, the walk being only about 6 minutes each way.

I arrived at the library at about 4.45 with my first load and was met by Ian Harker and Carl Hutton, who have been my contacts there. I said a quick hello and then disappeared into the busy streets to bring the remainder of my things, before settling in for the evening. The Leeds Library is an amazing old building which has stood in Commercial Street since 1808 and featuring the most amazing galleried central room, in which I would perform. A small stage had been set up at one end of the long room, and shelves of books towered above on all sides. The centre of the hall was filled with as many chairs as could be squeezed in, for once again the event was a sell-out. I arranged my furniture and stood for a while taking in the majesty of my office for the evening.

Carl would be looking after the sound effects and had stationed himself at a small table stage right. He was a little nervous about taking on this responsibility, but we ran through the cues a few times and I assured him that I had the utmost confidence in his abilities!

When all was ready, I retired to the Committee Room which was behind the stage and busied myself by going through the extra lines required for the two-act show (this being the first of the year in this format). I heard the audience arriving, and relished in that murmur of expectation and excitement, which is one of my favourite sounds in a theatre.

At 7, Carl knocked on the door and said that we were ready to start. I would make my way to the back of the auditorium, and when I was there Carl would start the first music cue. I walked through the more modern part of the building, through a passageway and there I was behind the audience who sat in silence. To quote the show, they were quiet. Very quiet, and then there was a degree of shuffling and looking around. The horrible thought came to me that perhaps Carl had already played the sound effect when I was not there, and now the audience were wondering what should happen next. I was wracked by indecision – should I just march up to the front and begin, or should I wait? I didn’t think that there would have been time for the effect to play all the way through without my hearing it, but what if it had? How long dared I wait? My confusion was relieved when Carl’s head popped his head around the wooden pillar that marked the edge of the stage, nodded, and started the sound effect, meaning I could begin in the usual style.

The Leeds audience were as enthusiastic and engaged as the Newcastle one had been and the first half was filled with fun and laughter. The extra passages slotted into the script easily, which was a relief and the whole thing moved on at a great pace. The most enjoyable part was Fezziwig’s party, as I had a little idea that I wanted to try. Rather than confining Mr F’s dance moves to the stage, I decided to utilise the central aisle in the hall, galloping all the way down and then all the way back, as the fiddle music of Sir Roger de Coverly played. As I came back, I gestured to an imaginary Mrs Fezziwig, standing on the stage, that she should join me in my dance, crouching slightly as I moved forward and beckoning to her, thereby recreating the iconic final scene from Dirty Dancing: Swayze and Grey had nothing on us. Nobody puts Mrs Fezziwig in a corner! The whole scene even merited a very small moment of applause from an audience member. Shortly after the Fezziwig scene had faded away there was a loud noise from the streets outside, a large dumpster being emptied of what sounded to be hundreds of used bottles. The Fezziwig’s ball had been quite an event, obviously.

Fortunately, I remembered to stop after the Ghost of Christmas Past had vanished, for it would have been so easy just to carry on as I have been for the last few weeks, but that is the point of the show where the interval comes, and I returned to the Commitee Room to change shirt and drink lots of water,

The second half was as fun as the second, and the whole show was a great success with another great ovation from the audience.

Once again lots of people remained afterwards to chat, and have merchandise signed – audience members of all ages, which was really gratifying. It was just after 9 o’clock when I started getting changed. I had asked if I could leave my things at the library, so that I could collect them in the morning, and with that I returned to the hotel, without needing to divert to the railway car park, and discovered to my delight that the restaurant was still open, meaning that I was able to finish my day with a fine plate of fish, chips and mushy peas.

Charles Dickens had not particularly liked Leeds, calling it rather unkindly ‘an odious place’. Well, I am sorry that he didn’t enjoy his time there, but for me it is a wonderful city and one that I hope to continue to visit for many years to come

Beginning a Tour of the North

Tags

A Christmas Carol, A Christmas Carol film, Charles Dickens, Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biogrpahy of a Rail Crash, Ebenezer Scrooge, Spygate, The Literary and Philosophical Society, The Word

I arrived back home from Minneapolis on Tuesday morning and on Thursday morning, after just one full day at home, it was time to set off on my travels once more. My first UK venue of the season was to be at The Lit and Phil society in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, a drive of about 4 1/2 hours. When I came to load, I had to think carefully about what I needed for my shows, as I have become used to turning up to a venue in America and having the set all laid out for me. As I was about to drive away, I took one final look at the load and was worried that I didn’t seem to have enough equipment and realised that I had omitted to put the hat rack in, so I went back to the house and fetched it. Hmmm, it still didn’t look right, so I did a mental skim through the script, and discovered that I hadn’t put the little table in either. Back to the prop store to liberate the table and at last I was on my way.

The weather on Wednesday was foul and the whole drive was carried out in heavy heavy rain, with patches of the road flooded with standing water. To pass the time I discovered a new 8-part podcast about a particular scandal in Formula One racing, dating back to 2007, when one team illegally obtained a complete dossier about a competitor’s car design. The scandal only came to light because the designer of the team with the stollen information sent his wife to a high street copy-shop where she asked them to photocopy the entire 780 pages of information. Unfortunately for her, and the designer, the man who ran the copy shop happened to be a fan of the aggrieved team and emailed them, setting in place the course of events that became known, unimaginatively, as ‘Spygate’.

Newcastle is in the far Northeast of England, so my journey took me through the whole range of countryside that the country has to offer. Earlier in the week my brother and I were discussing the question ‘where does the north begin?’ For my part I always think that when I get to Derby I am in the north of England.

I arrived at my hotel, the Sleeperz at 3.30, which gave to me 90 minutes to relax before I needed to be at the venue, the Literary and Philosophical Society, a very fine and historic library in the heart of the city. I have been performing for the Lit and Phil for the last 5 years, or so, and the routine is a familiar one. The only parking for the hotel is on the street, but fortunately the library itself is only a few doors away, so I did not have to move the car when it was time to leave. I left my room to get into the lift and for a moment forgot that I was back in the UK, rather than in America, for I automatically hit ‘1’ and was surprised when the doors opened into a corridor of rooms – in England the bottom floor, or lobby. level is called the Ground Floor, whereas the 1st floor, is actually the 2nd. In America, of course, the ground floor is the first, and the 2nd is the 2nd. I don’t know why I should have been confused

I walked to the car, unlocked the boot and started to unload the props in the pouring rain and. After three or four trips everything was inside. I was greeted by a poster for my show with the very happy tidings ‘SOLD OUT’ stuck across it.

I laid out my set on the floor, there not being a stage, and as is tradition we played around with various combinations of overhead florescent tubes and standard lamps to create some sort of theatrical atmosphere. The room at The Lit and Phil is not a particularly atmospheric one, but the shows here have always worked very well there, with the enthusiastic Newcastle audience bringing it to life.

When everything was set, and before the audience arrived, I popped to the loo, in which there was a notice pinned to the wall: ‘Please do NOT empty the basin when the urinal is flushing. Thank you.’ Goodness, what would happen? The sign had the sort of effect on me that a large red button bearing the legend ‘UNDER NO CIRCUSMTANCES PRESS THIS BUTTON’ You just have to, don’t you? There is an inner curiosity to do the complete opposite, despite the warnings. Fortunately, for the continued stability of the Lit & Phil building, I managed to conquer my rebellious nature and did NOT empty the basin while the urinal was flushing.

I settled myself into my dressing room, actually a large meeting room with a large table, and spent some time going over the extra lines for the 2-act version of A Christmas Carol which I will be performing later in the week. There are not too many additions, but Marley gets a little extra time to tell us that he only has little time and cannot stay, rest or linger. When Scrooge first stands in the snow with the Ghost of Christmas Past, he sees his school friends making their way home and he recognises them all, feeling strangely moved to see and hear them wish each other ‘Merry Christmas!’ There is an extra scene at the school, in which Scrooge’s little sister bounds in, and there are a few extra lines at the start of the second act, when Scrooge wakes expecting to see the second spirit. The wisdom of learning lines that I was not about to use may be debatable, but I was confident that I would be able to perform the very familiar 1 act version without a problem. I also attached black Velcro strips to my frock coat, as I did last year, so that I could create a fully black creature, with no gold waistcoat showing, when the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come makes his first appearance.

I could hear the audience arriving and just before 7pm there was a knock on the door, and it was time to make my way to the back of the room. As I mentioned earlier, the Lit and Phil audiences are always excellent, and this year was no exception. The show went really well, with lots of reaction, leading to a very noisy standing ovation at the end. I took my bows and then lingered in the large room through which the audience exited to chat and answer questions. I had copies of ‘Dickens and Staplehurst’ as well as the DVD version of ‘A Christmas Carol’, and both sold well. It was lovely to discover that there were audience members who had seen me perform at The Word on South Tyneside (the same has been the case the other way round), meaning that although geographically the venues are fairly close, they actually support each other.

When the audience had left I changed and loaded up the car (it was still raining hard), and strolled back to my hotel, where I ordered my supper from a local Chinese restaurant and twenty minutes later an Uber Eats courier delivered it to me. I ate in my room and then after a long, but successful, day went to sleep knowing that I had a quite relaxing day ahead of me on Friday.

‘Marley Was Dead, But Charles Dickens Is Very Much Alive’

Tags

A Christmas Carol, A Christmas Carol film, Charles Dickens, Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biogrpahy of a Rail Crash, Ebenezer Scrooge, Jacob Marley, Mid Continent Public Library, Miriam Margolyes, Snow

Saturday 5 November was very similar in shape to Friday 4th, with two performances of A Christmas Carol at a single venue, in this case back at the Woodneath Library auditorium. Woodneath is only a five-minute drive from the Hilton Garden Inn, and I didn’t have to be there until 1pm, so I had a very lazy, and recuperative, morning ahead of me.

After the torrential rain of Friday, I was astounded to see low cloud and snow greet me as I arrived in the lobby for breakfast. Of course, the ground was so wet that none of the snow survived on the ground, but it was lovely to watch the big flakes float down.

There is not much to say about the morning, really (Wordle in 3, is worth a mention though!), I did a little more laundry, not that I really needed to, but it is good to keep on top of it and keep a full stock of white costume shirts in the bank. A day of two shows typically uses three shirts – one to be worn during the first performance, then a second one to change into for the signing session, which I will also wear for the second show, and then a third fresh one for the evening signing. There are days on tour when there is not time to get laundry done, thanks to travel commitments, so I have always tried to catch up as often as possible.

As the morning went on, so the weather cleared and by the time I was collating all of the costumes and props the sky was clear blue with the temperature rising. Kimberly arrived at 12.45 and we made the short drive to Woodneath where we were greeted by a somewhat panicky group of librarians, for they had discovered that when the furniture for the stage had been collected from MGC that morning, the guys had forgotten to load the leather armchair that takes on the multiple roles of Scrooge’s office chair, his bed and Mr Fezziwig’s desk respectively. By the time the discovery had been made there was no time to drive back to Independence, collect the chair and get it back to Liberty in time for the matinee, so we had to improvise. Fortunately, the Woodneath branch has been imaginatively designed and styled, so there were a few possible ‘understudies’ dotted around. I chose a fairly plain green vinyl one which, although a little modern, would do the job. As we placed this humble chair onto the stage, the famous line from 42nd Street came to mind – ‘Hey, kid, you are going out there a nobody, but you have to come back a star!’ I hoped that the chair would not crumble under such pressure.

With much larger audiences expected to attend A Christmas Carol than those that came to watch A Child’s Journey With Dickens two days before, the true flexibility of the brand new Woodneath auditorium was literally revealed, for a wall could be raised allowing a whole new area of seating to have a view of the stage.

With the minor emergency of the chair averted, I went into my usual preparations for a show – changing into my costume with 30 minutes to go. As the audience gathered, so they were entertained by the Dickens Carolers, who sung wonderful acapella arrangements of favourite Christmas songs. The group is highly popular in the Kansas City area, and for my shows a group of 4 (the entire choir is much larger) delighted the audience with their very witty and lively renditions. Having got into my costume, I stood in the wings and watched them perform, which really helped me get into the spirit of the day, as well as giving me a chance to gauge the responsiveness of the audience.

With five minutes to go I made my way to join Sara in the sound booth and watched the end of the caroler’s set from the back of the hall. At 2 o’clock they sang ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’, their final number, and left the stage to loud applause, which boded well for the next 90 minutes. Indeed, the show went very well, although my voice was still a little husky. The chair fulfilled its commitments admirably, and maybe was even a good omen, for when I flung my top hat into the air as Scrooge gets dressed ‘all in his best’ it landed squarely and securely onto my head, thereby earning me an extra, and quite undeserved, round of applause. I am often asked how often the hat lands on my head successfully, and the answer is very rarely, maybe two or three times each season. Usually, as it drops to the floor, I cheerfully pick it up, dust it down and say, ‘One day!’, which actually helps to established old Ebenezer’s new sunny and positive outlook on life. I haven’t quite worked out how to best respond when the hat trick is successful. Yesterday I simply stood at the centre of the stage with my arms spread, soaking up the applause, but I wonder if a better response is simply to carry on the scene as if it were an absolutely normal part of the script: maybe I will try that approach next time.

The audience reaction was wonderful, as it always is in the Kansas City area, where I have so many fans and supporters. I quickly changed into a dry costume (even more important with my throat being a little tender), and made my way to the lobby where a long line of people was waiting for me. My signing table was in front of the magnificent living moss wall, which provided a quite spectacular backdrop for the many photographs that were taken. Last year when I was in the area my Staplehurst book had yet to be delivered, so Kimberly had asked me to sign 200 bookplates which could be stuck in when the stock arrived. Now, even with the bookplates, everyone wanted their copy personally signed, and I can quite understand that. I recently bought a copy of Miriam Margolyes’ autobiography which had been ‘signed by the author’, but it would mean so much more if I was next to her chatting as she scribbled her name. I was actually filming with her recently, for a forthcoming TV programme, and very foolishly forgot to take my book!

When the signing had finished, my first job, as always, was to re-set the stage for the evening’s performance. A performer, or stage manager, will always do this immediately a show is finished, rather than waiting until the evening when, if there is a problem, it is too late to resolve. Once the stool was back in its starting place, the red cloth draped over the stand-in chair and the hat, scarf and walking stick back in the dressing room, I changed into my normal clothes and went to get my lunch, which the team had ordered in for me. Unfortunately, my salad hadn’t been delivered with the rest of the order, so Kimberly suggested we drive back to the deli, collect my lunch and then I could take it back to the hotel eat it there and have a short rest between shows, which was what I did.

Back to Woodneath, the original chair had been collected and now sat rather sheepishly, slightly out of position on the stage, whilst the replacement had resumed its life in the library, having had the briefest glimpses of show business. I positioned the original how I wanted it, placed the cloth over it, and went to get ready. Again, I listened to the carolers (a different quartet) as they did their thing equally as cheerfully and energetically as their afternoon counterparts. The audience was another large one, and they sounded to be equally responsive.

My voice was still not fully up to par, despite drinking a lot of water, sucking on Fisherman’s Friend lozenges, and doing all of my warm-up exercises. The good thing is that it does not feel sore or inflamed and I think that it is simply a question of getting used to being constantly on the road, performing every day. Sadly, I was not able to repeat the success with the top hat, so couldn’t try out my new idea – it may be a while until I can! The response was every bit as enthusiastic as the afternoon’s had been, and everyone stood and cheered and stamped as I bowed to all sides of the room.

The signing session was fun, and there were more gifts bestowed upon me, but the best moment was when a gentleman approached me (he was not standing in the queue), shook me very firmly and earnestly by the hand, and said ‘Marley was dead, but Charles Dickens is very much alive within you’. He didn’t say anything else, had no book or DVD to be signed, didn’t want a picture, he just said those words, which meant the world to me.

My time in the Kansas City area had come to an end, I said goodbye to the various MCPL staff who had looked after me so well, most especially to Sara who had run the shows expertly from the tech booth throughout my visit, as well as wielding the rubber plunger when necessary.

Kimerly took me to the nearby Longhorn steakhouse, where we celebrated with a couple of Ribeye steaks and baked potatoes, before returning to the hotel where we said our goodbyes for another year.

On Sunday morning I get to drive my Toyota Venza for the first time since Wednesday as I make the journey to Omaha to get together with more old friends and to continue my adventures

PS: A very happy birthday to my brother Ian, who has had such a positive and supportive influence of my career, and life. Celebrate well!

Channelling the Founder of the Feast

Tags

A Child's Journey With Dickens, A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge, Line learning, Mid Continent Public Library, Rehearsal

Friday 4th November would see me perform A Christmas Carol for the first time since December 23rd 2021, and to be perfectly honest I was quite worried about it, as in the build-up to the tour the words were just not coming back to me as easily as I would have expected. During the preceding weeks I have been doing a lot of rehearsal and line learning of A Child’s Journey With Dickens, which of course proved very successful, but when I came to A Christmas Carol it had been a bit of a struggle.

On Friday I woke with the knowledge that I would be tested twice later in the day, and that there would be nowhere to hide, so the morning would be given over to some serious rehearsal. Having completed Wordle (my usual score of 4 again) and had breakfast, I returned to my room, and prepared to run through the entire 80-minute script of A Christmas Carol. Outside heavy rain was falling, very heavy rain for a storm was lashing the Midwest with a ferocious intensity that was quite scary, and traffic edged along the busy freeway with thick clouds of spray hanging in the air. Occasionally an emergency vehicle’s flashing lights brought a splash of colour to the scene.

And so, I began: ‘Marley was dead, to begin with…….’ Amazingly, suddenly, unlike my previous rehearsals, the words just flowed. I slightly change my rehearsal from purely a vocal one to include the movements, which was rather difficult seeing as I had a tiny strip of floor between the hotel bed, the desk and the TV stand, but even then, everything came back to me. It was almost as if my mind had been controlling my rehearsal needs and had prioritised A Child’s Journey, before releasing the Carol into my memory when I needed it. I had never felt anything like this before, and it was equally reassuring and unnerving, for I felt slightly out of control.

The run-through finished, and I made some coffee and relaxed, thinking about what I had just been through, and decided to repeat the process in a little while. Firstly, I took the trip’s first load of laundry downstairs and caught up with some emails and admin. One email was from my brother who had seen that Dolly Parton was taking her Smoky Mountain Christmas Carol to London. In previous years when I used to perform in Pigeon Forge this was a very familiar production to me, so I sent a tweet to Ms Parton welcoming her to England. It would be amazing to unite the two shows one day! It would have been easy to stay online, but I forced myelf to start another rehearsal and launched into the script once more. Again, the words, the intonation, the pace, the expression all came from within, and it was if I had been performing the piece every day throughout the previous weeks. There was a huge sense of relief as I came to the end again.

Outside, the rain was till beating the ground and I started to gather everything that I would need for the show – two costumes, cufflinks, watch and chain. walking stick, top hat, red cloth to drape over the chair, Victorian penny pieces in both waistcoat pockets, and then it was 12.15 and Kimberly was due to collect me. I went to the lobby and joined the little group of staff and guests watching the torrent of rain falling from the clouds above.

Kimberly’s car pulled up under the portico, so I could get my costumes and bag stowed without them getting soaked, and off we set to join the streams of cars. The windscreen wipers couldn’t work fast enough to clear the water, so the journey was a slow one, but we still got to the Genealogy Center in good time. Usually in the KC area I have two shows each day in different venues, meaning that as soon as I have finished it is time to pack up and get on the road, but this year it had been decided that I would spend one day at MGC, with two shows, and one day at Woodneath.

The team was already there, Beth, Carmalita, Susan and Sara, and straight away I wanted to go through the music cues to make sure that the show would be slick and perfect – I was still harbouring those nerves from early that morning. Sara opened the sound equipment, and we ran through each sound effect, until we were sure that we were both confident. Next it was time to do a sound check from the stage and I started to run through lines again, and continued for much longer into the script than was absolutely necessary.

Having made all of the preparations I withdrew to the green room, where I got into costume and then began to make my final preparations. I did some deep breathing exercises, and then started my favourite tongue-twisters to make sure that my lips and tongue were working well: ‘Bibbity bobbity bought a bat. Bibbity Bobbity bought a ball’ and ‘She stood upon the balcolny, mimicking him hiccoughing and amicably welcoming him in.’ The important thing about these is to get every syllable pronounced, basically taking my father’s advice from years before, ‘always finish one word before starting the next’. In the second of those excercises it is the ‘ing’ sounds that it is easy to lose, as well as the ‘m’ on the end of ‘him’.

I had done all of the work and preparation that I could so now I sat down quietly to think about the show. I took a selfie of me in pensive pose, and when I looked at it there was an almost uncanny resemblance to my great great grandfather’s pose in an 1859 portrait, even the colour of the wall matched. I swear that I didn’t set out to recreate the Frith portrait, it was simply a happy coincidence. I was definitely channelling the founder of the feast.

At 1 o’clock Susan popped her head into the dressing room to check that I was ready and then went to the stage to make my introductions, while I made my way to the back of the hall to start the show walking through the audience as the somber music played.

What can I say? The show went so well, so smoothly, and the audience responded to all of the moments that previous audiences have – not just the big obvious ones, but also those little times when I listen for a gasp, a giggle or even for complete silence. Even the weather contrived to help, for during the Christmas Future scenes thunder began to rumble outside, adding a portentous and heavy atmosphere to the proceedings, and then stopped again when the story returned to Scrooge’s bedroom on Christmas morning. From a personal point of view there were a few moments of timing that were not absolutely perfect, but these were minor – A Christmas Carol was back in all its glory.

After I had taken my bows, I changed costume and made my way to the auditorium lobby to sign and chat. The reaction to the performance both from well-seasoned fans and first timers was extremely gratifying and for the first time that day I began to relax.

Once the last of the audience had made their wild dash through the rain to their cars, it was time to rest with over 4 hours until the evening show. The library staff had kindly ordered in lunch, in my case a salad, and when I had eaten, I pushed two chairs together, stretched out my legs and although I didn’t actually nap, just switched off.

The evening show was very well subscribed, although we didn’t know if the weather would put people off (the events here are all free, but attendees have to register, meaning that there is often a degree of drop off in numbers.) As 6.30 passed it looked as if almost everyone was coming, for the hall was filling up nicely, and it promised to be a really enjoyable evening. With 5 minutes to go I put my hat and scarf on and prepared to go, when I saw Sara, who I would have expected to be at the sound desk, walking down a corridor wielding a large rubber plunger. She gave me a wry look and said ‘Oh, the joys of being the building superintendent’ and off she marched with an air of resigned determination. Shortly afterwards Beth appeared to tell me that we may be delaying for 5 minutes or so, as there was a slight plumbing emergency that needed attending to – I didn’t ask for any details. It was not long until Sara was back, and we were ready to go.

The evening performance was another good one, although my voice was a little husky, probably due to the efforts I had put into the morning’s rehearsing as well as the first show. It was great to perform for such a large crowd, and it felt as if they were all engaged in the story. There were quite a few children in the audience, and they were giggling at the silly bits – snoring etc, and at one point I found myself playing to them too much and had to pull myself back into line. The response at the show’s conclusion was amazing, with shouts and whistles and whoops. It had very definitely been a good day

At the signing table there were more gifts, a drawing of the Child’s Journey stage by Aiden, and a painting by Paisley, whilst Lily, who gave me the picture the day before, was back with her mother too. I signed lots of copies of my book, as well as the A Christmas Carol DVDs which are available this year and posed for lots of photographs.

When all was finished, I packed up my belongings, said my goodbyes and Kimberly drove me back to Liberty, where we dined in a sports bar (a delicious salmon and mashed potatoes for me), before she took me back to the hotel. It had seemed a long day, but an ultimately successful one, the only negative aspect being that somewhere along the way I had mislaid one of my red cravats – maybe it fell off the coat hanger when I was running through the rain, but that means I only have one for the rest of the tour.

I may have lost a small item of costume, but I have NOT lost A Christmas Carol.

Opening Salvos

Tags

A Child's Journey With Dickens, A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Hilton Garden Inn, Mid Continent Public Library, Office Max

The first performance day of the tour inevitably started in darkness as my brain, still on UK time, decided it was time to wake, even though the clock by my bedside stated that it was only 1am. I managed to return to sleep briefly, only to repeat the exercise at 3-O-something, and again at 4ish. I finally gave in and made for the coffee maker at around 5.

I mooched around and wrote my blog post and completed the day’s Wordle challenge in 4 rows (yes, I have been caught in the net of the 5-letter word game, as have so many others), before making my way to the lobby for breakfast, which had a wonderful air of familiarity about it – the porridge (complete with a sprinkle of brown sugar and some cranberries) was thick and delicious, and the waffles were up to their usual standard.

My first show wasn’t until 2pm, so I had the morning to myself, most of which was given over to rehearsing A Child’s Journey With Dickens. I paced about my room, going through the lines over and over again. It was strange going through the entire script again, having carefully learned what not to say, what to leave out, back in September when I performed it at Old Sturbridge Village with Jennifer Emerson taking the role of Kate Douglas Wiggin. At that time, she had stood at a lectern giving Kate’s speech, whilst I had sat at a small writing desk chipping in occasionally with letters written by Charles Dickens himself – the split stage idea had worked well, until the two characters came together on a bench which represented the railroad car in which they actually met. With just me doing the show, I had to find ways of transitioning from Kate to Charles and back again, so I spent much of my rehearsal time going over those moves.

I also decided that it would be a nice idea to give Kate a sheaf of papers to hold, as if she were clutching the text of her speech (originally given in New York City in 1912), and for Dickens’s table to strewn with notepaper as he fired off his correspondence. Across the parking lot from the hotel is an Office Max store, and I planned to drive over there and purchase some suitable paper. Wait, drive? I could see the store! I abandoned my plan and set out to walk the great distance, which meant crossing a road which was not designed to be crossed, as is so often the way in America. I waited patiently until a suitable gap in the traffic appeared and made my move, remembering to look the ‘wrong’ way for cars and trucks.

Once in the store I found some nice ivory-coloured paper, which wouldn’t look too garishly modern on stage, made my purchase and returned to the hotel.

I was due to be picked up to be driven to the first venue at 12.15, so I made sure that I had all of the costumes and props that I needed and then headed down to the lobby to wait. I mentioned in yesterday’s post that there had been some changes at The Mid-Continent Public Library this year, and that my visit would be a very different one to that of years past, but actually things had a very familiar feel to them as Kimberly Howard, my long-time colleague and good friend pulled up outside the hotel to collect me. I first met Kimberly in, I think 1995 when she was a branch librarian at the Blue Springs branch of the library service, and I performed there during my very first tour. Over the years she rose through the ranks of MCPL to head up the programming side of the operation and thus became the person who booked and administered my visits. It was Kimberly who transported me all around the Kansas City region, who took me to lunch and dinner, who oversaw the growth of my audience numbers into the much larger auditoria that I now perform in here. But this year Kimberly took the decision to retire and move on, although she put in a special request to her former employers, asking if she could still be my chauffeur! So, although at an administrative level it was all change this year, for me the day had a wonderful feeling of reassurance about it.

We drove for about 45 minutes to the Midwest Genealogy Center, where my first performance would be held. It is a venue I have performed at in the past and in no time I was on the stage moving furniture around and getting things set just as I wanted them. In charge of all things technical was Sara Peterson-Davis, which was good news for we have battled recalcitrant microphones together in the past, so I knew I was in good hands. The whole of my visit this year is being coordinated by Beth Loecke, who welcomed me and made sure I had everything I needed. The stage already had a lectern and a large bench in place, but we still needed a small writing table for Charles to use, and after a bit of searching Beth mentioned that the props for A Christmas Carol had been delivered during the day and that there was a wooden table among them, and so my set was complete.

Soon the time for the audience to be let in arrived and I retreated to my dressing room until curtain up.

I had slightly changed my introductory remarks this year, bringing them a little more up to date, and had included the great revelation that I now perform regularly at ‘Highclere Castle, the setting for Downton Abbey’. I thought that this would go down well with an American audience, and so it proved as I could hear a gasp and murmur when those words were read.

Soon I was on stage and launching into the script, which flowed very well, the movements from stage right to left and back were OK, especially the one following Kate’s line ‘I prayed fervently that…the pangs of seasickness may be spared so precious a personage’, after which I reeled and stumbled across the stage, grabbing the bench and chair for support, as if I were on the deck of a heaving and pitching steamer.

There was one rather extraordinary error in my show, which hadn’t showed itself in rehearsals, and that was a matter of accent: I give Kate’s lines in a rather flawed New England accent, making sure that the ‘ah’ sounds such as in barn and farm were elongated into bahn and fahm, and that was ok, but the problem came after I had delivered George Dolby’s account of how he and Dickens prepared for an evening show. Dolby was Dickens’s tour manager and travelled with him throughout his final reading tours, making sure that every detail from ticket sales to the set up in the various halls was properly looked after. Dolby was a Scot, and so I naturally give him a gentle Edinburgh burr, which adds a little variety to the duologue of Kate and Charles. The problem was, when I came back to being Kate again, I couldn’t lose the Scottish accent! It just wouldn’t leave and for a while Kate Douglas Wiggin, born in Philadelphia, raised in Maine, seemed to have emigrated from the Scottish borders – very odd.

The scenes in the railroad car when the 10-year-old Kate chatted excitedly to her hero, telling him that she skipped the dull parts of his books, went very well and were wonderfully received by the audience, and the whole show came to a lovely conclusion. Beth had decided to have a Q&A session after the show and audience members were encouraged to write questions on small pieces of card, so that we wouldn’t need to have staff running around the auditorium with microphones. As usual when the request for questions went out everyone was rather shy and coy, not wanting to be the first, but eventually a small girl in the front row handed her card up – in fact it wasn’t a question, but she had sketched the stage with me preforming on it – what an amazing souvenir, and one that I will cherish! It had been signed on the back by the artist – Lily, aged 9. Thank you, Lily.

When the show was finished, I changed and packed up and Kimberley drove me back to Liberty where we had a late lunch in the local Penera Bread outlet – I had a Baja Bowl, which featured chicken, avocado, pulses, tomatoes and a spicy salsa dressing – it was perfect. There was not a huge amount of time before the second show of the day, which was to be held at the Woodneath Library branch, another venue that I am very familiar with, although this year I would be performing in the brand-new auditorium space, which had been constructed since my last visit. On walking into the lobby, the visitor is faced with a huge living wall of moss, giving the building an ecologically sound feeling. Once in the auditorium the fresh feel is continued as the seats are all various shades of green too.

Sara was at her place in the sound booth, Captain Kirk-like (I mean in charge of the great ship, not that she has any resemblance to William Shatner), and we did sound checks on an empty stage, for there was one slight concern: there was no furniture. Somewhere along the way the crew who was supposed to transfer the set from one venue to another hadn’t turned up (either had forgotten to do it, or had thought the collection was for the following day, depending on who one spoke to), so there was a slightly fraught period during which there was the possibility that we would have to source other furniture that would look very modern – and probably green.

Beth was onto the issue, however, and with a little over 30 minutes to go before the show was due to start the furniture appeared and all calmness arrived at Woodneath, just before the audience.

During lunch Kimberly and I had reminisced about the days when the library service had provided a portable microphone system that had a stubborn mind of its own and often refused to work, and it was Sara who coaxed life out of it, making her our official microphone whisperer. Thank heavens, we mused, that these days we were using much more sophisticated and reliable equipment. That thought came back to bite me on the bum, when I began the show, and my words were accompanied by loud cracks of electronic disobedience. It was obvious that a lead was loose somewhere, but short of disrobing on stage, there was not much to do about it. I took my own decision: the audience wasn’t a large one and the acoustics of the room were good, so I switched off the mic and went unplugged for the evening.

The show went well, and I managed to escape Scotland on his occasion, which was a relief. We had another Q&A afterwards and again after a slow start the questions flowed freely, including a few old favourites and some that required more thought from me before answering. As the clock ticked towards 8.15 we wound up the session, I took my final bows of the day and left the stage.

I mingled for a while with some of the audience members and posed for pictures, before returning to my green room (and it was green, naturally) to change. Before I left the theatre, I went to the sound desk so that Sara and I could find out what had happened to the microphone – I am due back at Woodneath on Saturday to perform to a much larger audience, so we wanted to make sure that we were on top of the issue. It seemed as if the main lead into the unit was slightly loose and was moving about, thereby creating the static noise whenever I moved. Sara tightened it up, and we ran a few lines to check that the repair was successful, before saying our goodbyes and goodnights.

The evening was not quite over, for Kimberly and I had been invited to dinner at the home of long-time fan Doug Streu and his wife Denise. Doug is a self-confessed A Christmas Carol addict, watching every film version multiple times each season. He comes to most of my shows, if not all, in the Kansas City region and was keen to say thank you by inviting me to his house, and also to honor Kimberly’s retirement from Mid-Continent. Our evening was a lovely one, with a simple meal of chicken, corn and potatoes, and good conversational banter. A fine way to wind down, but soon fatigue crept up on me, and it was time to say thank you and farewell. Doug and Denise sent us into the night containing goody bags containing banana bread, pumpkin bread, some brownies and in my case a bag of freshly ground coffee, as has become traditional over the years. They are truly kind people

Back at the hotel I could reflect on a successful first day on the road, and look forward to my first performances of A Christmas Carol on Friday November 4th.

Christmas Begins Now

Tags

A Child's Journey With Dickens, A Christmas Carol, Byers'Choice, Delta Airlines, Detroit DTW, Ebenezer Scrooge, Enterprise Car Rental, Field of Dreams, Heathrow Airport, Hilton Garden Inn, Kansas City, Mid Continent Public Library, The Shawshank Redemption, Toyota Venza

It is the start of November, and the leaves are falling from the trees, in England the days have been wet and squally, but with occasional crisp, fresh periods of crystal-clear sunlight creating a farewell finale to the beauty of Autumn before it is totally consumed by the dark winter months. Pumpkins were briefly displayed on doorsteps, including ours, and houses were decorated for Hallowe’en. The night of the 31st itself was busier on the streets of Abingdon than I had seen before and the atmosphere among the gruesomely attired trick or treaters was more akin to those we have witnessed in America films and TV shows.

All of this is an annual prelude to the first part of my annual American tour and on Tuesday 1 November I packed my cases ready to depart early in the morning of the 2nd. The build-up to my travel day had been quite stressful, as I had been unable to check in for my flight. The Delta airlines app insisted that I uploaded my Covid vaccination status, but when I did, the system refused to accept it, saying that the brand of vaccine was not approved in America and I would need to prove some alternative – which seemed odd, as I had travelled quite successfully only a month or so ago. There seemed no way to contact Delta, only endless pages of FAQs so I was not sure if I would actually be allowed to board a plane when I reached the airport.

On Wednesday morning I finished my packing and put on my new fleece jacket, branded for my tour emblazoned with the GD monogram and A Christmas Carol legend originally created for my website a few years ago. The corporate look was completed by a baseball cap and I was ready to tour!

My taxi arrived at the door at 6.45 and having said our farewells (which even after all these years never get any easier) I headed towards Heathrow airport’s terminal 3 building.

The traffic was heavy, and I was later arriving than I would have liked and to my dismay there was a long queue winding through the terminal leading to the bag drop. I found an official and she began to check me in. I held my breath as she asked to see my proof of vaccination, and after a cursory glance at the paperwork, she handed it back and sent me on my way – the first hurdle was cleared. There was still the matter of actually getting to the gate in time for the flight, but the Delta staff were on it, and called for anyone booked on the 9.40 flight to Detroit to come to the front. My bag was perilously close to the weight limit, but the agent at the desk caught sight of my fleece and asked about A Christmas Carol. I explained about my show, and we discussed the amazing production at The Old Vic theatre, which we had both seen last year. It was one of those lovely moments when the hustle and bustle of everyday life gave way to a moment of personal connection, although I was aware that my flight was starting to board, and I had yet to clear security.

I could build the tension even more by describing the taking off jacket and belt and watch, and having to wait to be patted down, as time ticked on, but actually the process passed quite calmly, and I arrived at the gate just as pre-boarding began. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to have any breakfast at the airport. I had eaten a single slice of toast at home to keep me going but was looking forward to a more substantial repast as I waited to board, but the heavy traffic and the long lines had scuppered that idea, so I would have to wait for the inflight service at 40.000 feet to satiate my hunger.

The flight was fairly busy, but I had an open seat next to me, which is always a treat, and I settled in for 7 hours across the Atlantic. As I sat, I noticed that the bags were being loaded just beneath my window and it was with a great sense of relief that I was able to witness my blue case being placed on the conveyor belt which entered the hold. It is always a reassuring thing to actually witness your bag being on the same vehicle as oneself.

My film choices on the flight included The Shawshank Redemption and Field of Dreams, neither of which I had seen for many years, and neither of which have lost their respective impacts (especially Shawshank). ‘Breakfast’ was a chicken pesto dish, followed by ice cream, which was surprisingly tasty. Beneath us were the icy waters of the North Atlantic, until we made landfall over Gander (‘Welcome to the Rock’) and headed up the St Lawrence over Quebec, Montreal, Ottawa and Toronto and on to Detroit.

Whilst in my seat I could glimpse the TV screen in the row ahead of me and on two occasions it sent memories and messages to me. The first was when it was in its screen saver mode and just displayed details of our flight: LHR-DTW, Heathrow to Detroit. It was the latter code that stirred the memories in me, for my acting career really started with a youth drama group in my home town of Tunbridge Wells, which was called Design Theatre Workshop, more commonly referred to as DTW. Almost everything I know about theatre I learned in my teenage years at DTW, and it is a time that I talk about at length in a new book about my theatrical life, which should be published in time for next year’s tour.

DTW didn’t exist purely to put on shows, it wasn’t just another AmDram group, but it encouraged its members to explore ways of becoming more creative.  The ‘workshop’ aspect saw us spend many evenings doing various improvisations and exercises, developing ways of creating our own theatre. I remember that one session was given over purely to feeling the strength of a gesture all the way through the arm to the very tip of the finger, every muscle tensed to create the desired effect and that is a technique that I use in my performance of A Christmas Carol today to bring strength and power to the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. I have much to thank DTW for, and it was lovely to wallow in a little nostalgia and think what those days have done for me.

The other subliminal message was less about the past but more about the future, for as we crossed the coast the flight map showed where various cities were in relation to us and for a fleeting moment the screen was filled with Portland and Boston – the journey taken by Charles Dickens and Kate Douglas Wiggin in 1868 and the subject of ‘A Child’s Journey With Dickens’ – which is to be my first performances of the 2022 tour. I took the hint and pulled out the script just to run over the lines to myself at 600 MPH. In the script Kate talks about the daily train to Portland dashing hither and thither at 12 miles an hour – such progress.

We arrived at Detroit in good time and the final hurdle of immigration was cleared easily. I retrieved my case, wheeled it down a corridor and rechecked it again, with no bother from any customs officers. Having once again divested myself of belt, watch jacket and shoes, I was allowed back into Detroit airport, having never actually left it, and I made my way to the gate where I would board a much smaller aeroplane to Kansas City, the first stop of the 2022 tour.

The second flight was completely full, so I had no luxury of an empty seat next to me, but once again I was sat over the hold hatch and therefore was again able to feel the relief that my bag was coming to KC too.

Kansas City is the venue that I have visited more often than any other, so the airport is a reassuringly familiar one, as yet untainted by the building programmes that render most airports indistinguishable from one another. The different terminals at Kansas City are a series of circular buildings looking rather like a moon base from a 1960s sci-fi show. I fetched my bags and boarded the shuttle bus to the car rental facility (I rather think I might have jumped the entire queue for the bus, just walking on when it arrived, but none of the other passengers said anything to me about it). The staff at the Enterprise Car Rental desk couldn’t have been more helpful, and actually walked me to my car, and introduced me to it – a very smart Toyota Venza hybrid SUV model. Having worked out how to switch the engine on and adjusted the mirrors I set off for the short drive to my Missouri home from home, the Hilton Garden Inn at Liberty.

It was about 6.30 by the time I got to my room, which to my English body was close to midnight, so I had an early supper at a nearby Olive Garden restaurant, before returning to my room for sleep

This year’s visit to Kansas City will be quite different from the past, but I will talk about that more tomorrow. For now, I have arrived, and the tour is about to begin.

Golf, Hertz and East Meadow

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Byers'Choice, Charles Dickens, Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biogrpahy of a Rail Crash, Doctor Marigold, East Meadow Public Library, Long Island, The Signalman, The Verrazano Bridge

WEDNESDAY

Wednesday had promised to be another relaxing day in the cabin, possibly doing some work on the script for A Child’s Journey With Dickens, until I had received a text the day before from Bob’s son George asking me if I would like to join him for a round of golf (I had mentioned to Bob that I had brought my golf shoes just in case there was time for a round, and he had passed the message on). I readily agreed and George arrived at the cabin to pick me up at 8.45 in readiness for a 9.40 tee off. The course that he had selected was Heron Glenn Golf Club near to the town of Flemington from where I would be collecting a rental car later in the day.

We arrived at the club in good time and sorted out a set of rental clubs for me, which would provide a perfect excuse for poor play in the early holes, and made our way to the first tee, where another two players introduced themselves as Bill and Michael and told us that they would be playing with us, which turned out to be a good thing as they were able to show us the way around and warn us of hidden areas of rough. They had broad New York accents and George and I tried to guess what they had been during their working lives: we came up with either police officers, or maybe in the newspaper industry. We never did find out.

We had a wonderful time, I wont go into it hole by hole, but we all played some very good shots and we all played some woeful shots. On the whole George played more good shots than the rest of us, and if we had been competing he would have vanquished us, but we weren’t and instead we all had fun

From the golf course I had to pick up a rental car which will be with me until I arrive at Logan airport on Saturday to fly home. We were to go to a Hertz dealership in Flemington, and it took a bit of finding. In our defence the venue didn’t look like a Hertz office. In fact it was a very small car repair shop, with scattered bits of wounded automobiles lying on the ground. The only clue that the office may be part of one of the world’s leading car rental concerns was a tiny sign on the wall outside the office. I walked in and said I was due to collect a car and that my name was Dickens. ‘Ah, yes.’ said the lady in the office, its the white Nissan Rogue, here are the keys. Its got 3/4 of a tank, just drop it off with the same wherever you’re leaving it.’ And that was it! No signatures, no driving licence check, no credit cards: nothing. Easy, but I was not entirely sure that Hertz head office knew that I had their car.

I said goodbye to George, although we’d be meeting up again for dinner, and drove back to the cabin, where I took the Mustang out for one final journey to fill it up with petrol (during my drive to Burlington I’d watched the fuel gauge go down as quickly as the speed went up!) When I returned, I sorrowfully guided it into the garage and said my goodbyes.

George had booked a table for dinner in the town of New Hope, 30 minutes away, in a very smart restaurant overlooking the river. Maura, George’s girlfriend was also there and it was a great pleasure to meet her. She is going to be working with Pam on the administrative side of my tour and she was keen to find out as much as possible as to how it all works. She will be a great asset to the team, I think. We all dined well, I had a spicy Asian trout dish which was absolutely delicious, and it was a very pleasant evening with good company.

I returned to the Cabin for my final night in the woods

THURSDAY

Although I had only one show on Thursday, in the evening, I did have a little extra work to do at Byers’ Choice, for David wanted to record a few promotional videos for the forthcoming Christmas tour. Firstly I sat at a large table and, looking into the camera, cheerily invited people to come and see A Christmas Carol at Byers’ Choice. Next I cheerily asked them to come and see A Christmas Carol at their local venue (this means that sponsors can put their own captions and booking details on the screen.) Then I told people that they may like to buy my book, and finally a piece about my DVD of A Christmas Carol (Yes! It is available this year). When all those short clips had been filmed Dave and I created a mini Byers’ Choice travel show as I walked through the visitor centre pointing out things of interest, especially relating to Charles Dickens and A Christmas Carol.

When the filming was finished I said my final goodbyes to Dave, Bob and George (who returned my golf shoes that I’d left in his ca)r, and I set out on the road East, towards Long Island. The traffic wasn’t too bad until I reached the environs of New York City, at which time I inevitably hit long tailbacks – some because of accidents, some because of roadworks and some just due to heavy city congestion. I had plenty of time in hand, though, so it was not a concern.

To skirt around Manhattan my route took me across the Verrazano Bridge from Staten Island to Brooklyn, and it has to be one of the world’s most truly impressive bridges to be sure, rivalling The Forth Bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Sidney Harbour Bridge, and even its near neighbour, the Brooklyn Bridge. The heavy traffic continued onto the misnamed Long Island Expressways but I arrived at the Marriott Hotel in good time. I had stayed at the same venue last Christmas so everything was familiar to me.

I had an hour or so at the hotel before I was due at the East Meadow Library where I was to perform the double bill of The Signalman and Doctor Marigold that evening. The drive to the library was only a matter of minutes and in no time I was greeting my friends from December Jude and her husband Mark, who helped me to unload my costumes and props ready to set up in the small auditorium. The first job was to reconstruct the danger light for The Signalman, using the screws and screwdriver that Dave had sent along with me. Mark used to be involved in Broadway theatre in the tech, set and props fields and as we built the light he was commenting on the construction of it, with a certain sense of admiration, but also with the inevitable ‘Ah, if I’d made this I would have……’

Soon we had the set in place and Jude suggested that we all went to get some dinner before the show, so we piled into Marks huge RAM truck and headed to a lovely Italian restaurant, where we dined alfresco, beneath huge sunshades. I had a simple chicken dish in a white wine and lemon sauce, which was delicious, but I was aware that time was pushing on towards six pm and we were due to start at seven. Mark noticed my unease and offered to drive me back to the Library so that I could finish my preparations in as relaxed way as possible.

The priority was to do a sound check with Larry, who had looked after my performance in December and who I knew to be a safe pair of hands on the faders, because of that I had also given him the wind sound effect to play during the first half. With the sound check completed and the set checked once more I left the room, so that the audience could take their seats, and went downstairs where I changed in a small staff cafeteria room.

At seven o’clock Jude came down to say we were holding for 5 minutes as guests were still arriving, but soon everything was in place to begin. Jude opened the door to the auditorium (the seating was raked, and I would be performing on the floor level), and I slipped in behind her, which elicited a round of applause form the audience, to which Jude hissed back at me in a loud pantomime-style whisper ‘you were supposed to stay outside!’ It was all good fun banter, and Jude is a natural entertainer.

With the introductions completed I started the show. The audience weren’t as responsive during the two performances as some others, there was not the same laughter at Marigold for instance, but oh my they were appreciative and applauded long and loudly afterwards. I learned long ago that audiences respond in different ways and just because there isn’t an instant response, it doesn’t mean that they are not enjoying, or appreciating the performance, and the crowd at East Meadow were a case in point. After Marigold was finished (and, yes, they gasped at the correct moment), I opened the floor up to questions and we had an enjoyable session covering lots of ground, including how do I learn lines? What is my favourite film or TV adaptation of any Dickens novel? (David Lean’s Great Expectations, or the BBC’s Bleak House), and how did I feel about the Queen? which brought the emotions that have been there all week bubbling up to the surface again. Soon it was time to wrap up and I took another round of applause before leaving the room. I loitered outside as the audience left and the questions continued until the library emptied and it was time to pack up my belongings, say my goodbyes and head back to the Marriott where I set my alarm for 5.45, as I had a three hour drive ahead of me to Massachusetts.