Friday in Liverpool

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Christmas Market, Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biogrpahy of a Rail Crash, Ebenezer Scrooge, Liverpool, Muppets A Christmas Carol, St George's Hall, WKGS

My second day in Liverpool began when I woke at 8.15, which is quite unheard of for me. Possible reasons for my late arrival to Friday were supremely effective heavy-draped curtains in my room, which created a complete blackout, and my body’s need to keep rebuilding strength and stamina. I have been staying at The Shankly Hotel for many years, mainly because of its proximity to St George’s Hall (in fact, as I drew the curtains I had a fine view of the great old Palladian building), and it is a hotel that I feel comfortable in. It has changed a little over the years, for when I first stayed it was very much a Liverpool Football Club supporter’s heaven – with the lobby and every room dedicated to the life and career of one of LFC’s finest managers, Bill Shankly. You would fall asleep looking up at one of his inspirational quotes, and the material padding on the room doors were of the same texture as a football. In recent years, though, the hotel has embraced the party vibe of the city, and the tone has changed from dugout to dancefloor. I was staying on the 5th floor, the corridor was painted a vibrant pink, and all of the rooms had not only numbers, but names too, names to make a mother blush: Sin, Adam (Eve was demurely next door), Temptation and my own room, Desire. Desire contained beds for 4 and a jacuzzi hot tub for the same number. I imagine that I am one of the quieter guests on the fifth floor……

The Shankly did not have chefs in on a Friday morning, so breakfast was being served in the sister hotel across the street – The Dixie Dean. Liverpool is a city divided from a footballing point of view, with two tribes supporting either the reds of LFC or the blues of Everton. I imagine that the owner of The Shankly realised that he was reducing his possible local clientele by half, so opened a second hotel named in honour of one of the greats of Everton. I made my way across the street and had a most enjoyable breakfast, feeling slightly traitorous, and then returned to my room, where I rested for a long while. I didn’t need to be back at St George’s Hall until 1pm, so had plenty of time. At around 11 I walked into the city and joined the throngs of Christmas shoppers bustling here and there through the great Liverpool1 shopping complex. Liverpool always makes me feel very festive and Christmassy, for there is a wonderful atmosphere on the streets. While I walked my phone ran out of battery, for I had left my charging lead in my dressing room at St George’s Hall, but I knew roughly what the time was. I returned to my hotel room, collected some fresh shirts, and then walked up to the hall ready for my matinee performance. I had forgotten, however, that to be granted access to St George’s I needed to call the duty manager, and my phone was inactive. I stood outside the door, and knocked and banged at the door, to no avail. Another young man stood at the door next to me, and I guessed he was an audience member arriving early, for his T shirt was emblazoned with the message ‘Scrooge and Marley. Accountants.’ After a while I saw a member of the St George’s Hall Staff walking by, and asked him if he could alert the manager to my presence, which he kindly did.

I said hello to everyone who were setting up the bar, and my merchandise table, and made my way up to the dressing room, and onto stage where Taz and I did a quick sound check to make sure that everything was still functioning correctly, and I made sure that everything was as it should be on the stage, before shutting myself into dressing room, drinking lots of water, and just relaxng.

The afternoon show was due to start at 2.30 and as usual the audience would be entertained by a choir, before I took to the stage. Usually the choir is one of a few very fine community choirs from Liverpool or The Wirral peninsula, but on Friday both the audience and I were in for a special treat, for Lynne had arranged for students from the West Kirby Grammar School to sing on the stage. From my dressing room I could hear the choir gathering, and assuming that it was one of the usual troupes, I opened the door to say hello, and was amazed to find 30 or so teenagers, anxiously talking, waiting to walk into the bright stage lights. We chatted until it was time for them to perform, and I wished them all good luck and told then to enjoy themselves, and in turn many told me to ‘break a leg’. When they were on stage I went up to the gallery and slipped in the door to watch them sing their first two songs, and they performed beautifully. I always like to watch the choirs from up on the gallery, for two reasons. One, it gives me the opportunity to listen to amazing singing in a setting designed purely to enhance it, and second, it gives me an opportunity to take a look at the audience, and judge what sort of performance we are about to share.

After the girls had completed their second piece, I slipped back down to the wing space, put my scarf and top hat on and waited to begin. As the choir came off stage I congratulated them, and then turned my thoughts to my own performance. The energy that I always get from the Concert Room inspired me, and the performance was a really good one, with the inevitable few coughs along the way. The audience were very good, and the ovation at the end was a typically loud Liverpool stomp! Having left the stage I changed slowly into a fresh costume, before going down to the lobby to sign copies of my book (which we sold out of) and chat to excited and bubbling audience members, one of who was the young gentleman whose T shirt I had complimented on the pavement a couple of hours before. It turns out that he is working on the script for a new musical version of A Christmas Carol, and we talked about my adaptation, and the direction he is taking his version in, that being darker more intense than the norm.

When the signing session as finished, I went back to The Shankly, and rested for a while, before showering and walking back to the Hall for the evening show, stopping to buy a large freshly cooked Bratwurst from the Christmas market which was crowded and noisy.

In the dressing room, I finished my hot dog, and then got into costume ready for a 7.30 start. The choir was one of the regular one,ms and for this show the choir leader had asked me if I minded them performing a medley from The Muppets Christmas Carol, I wouldn’t think it in any way disrespectful? It was thoughtful and kind of her to ask, and of course I said yes, go for it!

The evening audience were not as demonstrative as some of the other St George’s Hall groups, but they were intense, listening, following. There was no rustling or fidgeting, and in the pauses the atmosphere in the hall was heavy. The applause at the end of the first act was very loud, as was the applause when I returned to the stage at the start of act 2, and the final explosion of applause at the end of the show was amazing, filling me with a huge sense of reward and satisfaction.

Despite my physical limitations, I had given three very strong performances in Liverpool, in ‘the most perfect hall in the world

At Last……

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Cape Henlopen High School, Charles Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge, Jacob Marley, Lewes Public Library, The Inn at Canal Square, UberEats

Friday 9 December 2022

It had only been a week since my last performance, which was at the Dana Center in Manchester, NH; 8 days since I first began to sniffle and snuffle and cough a little, but to me, a particularly restless person when not acting, it seemed to have been much longer.

On Friday morning I was in the Byer’s family cabin, and definitely felt ready to go. During the days previously I had been still suffering from an annoying cough, which would have made performing very difficult, but on Friday morning it had mostly cleared, and I very much wanted to get back onto the road. I didn’t actually need to leave until 11.30, so I spent the morning doing a few little pieces of laundry (well, I was back on the road, after all), playing myself at pool in the basement games room, and watching the 2nd and 3rd episodes of the Harry and Meghan documentary, purely because I was fairly certain that I will be asked about it in the coming days!

I packed my bags, said goodbye to the cabin, which had been a vast improvement over the four walls of the Hilton Garden Inn, and set off. It was a beautiful morning, with the Delaware River a deep peaty black with sparking-white ripples on the surface to my left. Soon I was skirting Philadelphia, crossing the bridge in Wilmington and heading towards Dover (one of those State capitals that is useful to know for trivia quizzes). As I drove, I discovered a feature of my Hyundai that I had not noticed previously, and that its somewhat annoying habit of taking control. When the Cruise Control function is selected it purrs along until it notices a car in front, going a little more slowly, and then it reduces the cruising speed. Now, it doesn’t just switch off the cruise control, it re-calibrates it so still the car carries on at exactly the same speed as the vehicle in front, with no influence from my right foot. If I gently turn the steering wheel to the left, thereby putting the car into an empty lane, the onboard brain comes to the conclusion that there is nothing ahead now, so lets the car accelerate back up to the previously set speed, again with no input from me. In a way this is a remarkable piece of tech, but in another it is incredibly dangerous, because you actually stop concentrating on the act of driving, putting complete faith in the car.

At one point I saw advertising signs for the Winterthur estate, and a feeling of great sadness came over me, feeling very guilty for disappointing all of those audience members who had been planning to attend the shows there this week. I am very aware that guilt is a ridiculous emotion, for I couldn’t have done anything else – at the time of the Winterthur shows I wasn’t out of the recommended quarantine period, and really wasn’t physically up to performing, but still as an actor I felt so sorry for everyone who was effected.

I stopped in Dover for lunch, and then finished my journey towards Lewes, Delaware, a very pretty coastal town, where I performed for the first time last year. I am booked by the Lewes Public Library and in 21 performed at the branch, and was very well received. On the back of that success it was decided that the library would seek a larger venue, and settled on the auditorium at a local high school.

Before driving to the venue, I had an hour or so to spend at my hotel, The Inn at Canal Square which sits at the water’s edge and is quite delightful.

The rooms are large, and comfortable and reassuringly traditional. I discovered that the room not only boasted a Keurig coffee maker, but an actual china cup too, and I think that this is my new gold-standard: a room with a real cup, not a plastic-wrapped paper one. In fact before I came down with Covid I was actually looking for a cup to come along with me on the road!

I spent the time at the hotel watching the end of the Argentina v Netherlands quarter final, which went to penalties and was very exciting. Thoughts now turn to England’s quarter final against the old rivals France, which will actually be played when I am on stage on Saturday afternoon!

At 5 o’clock I left the hotel and took the very short drive to The Cape Henlopen High School, where the various staff and volunteers from the library were waiting for me, prime among them David White, who is responsible for bringing me to the town. We walked into the auditorium, and it was huge! spread out before me, with a large stage at the bottom.

Apparently the library had received over 700 registrations (the show was free to patrons, so not all of those would show), and this room would soon be packed with excited theatre-goers. I had a moment of fear, what if I were not recovered enough to command a hall this big, what if I didn’t have enough energy, what if my voice didn’t hold out? Fortunately, David immediately passed me over to Gary, the technical head of the auditorium, and the nerves went away, for I was back into work mode, discussing sound effects and cues etc. Once we had finished the technical meeting, Gary showed me to my dressing room, which was filled with costumes in preparation for a performance of The Nutcracker, the next day – I suddenly had so much choice of what to wear…..hmmmm, what should it be?

The large audience was now being admitted, and I stood behind the curtain listening to them gather. I love being backstage alone, looking at all of the mechanics of the space. This particular auditorium was blessed with fly space, in other words it is tall enough to lower various back drops down to change scenes (or ‘fly’ them in). All of the different bars which the scenery can be attached to are controlled by ropes, situated stage left and they look less like stage equipment, more like rigging on some great battleship. There is good reason for that, for many theatres, especially those in port cities, were staffed by sailors, who knew how ropes and pullies could be used.

This is also the reason why it is unlucky to whistle in a theatre, for sailors used whistles to communicate on deck, and used the same language in the theatres. If you should happen to stroll onto a stage, absent-mindedly whistling a merry tune, you may inadvertently be sending a message to open a trap-door, or drop a huge canvas backdrop. Safest not to whistle!

I was very pumped up and excited behind the scenes, running through tongue twisters, breathing exercises, running, jumping, stretching, pumping myself up. This was all of the pent up energy from a week of inactivity. I roamed the empty corridors of the school, which must echo with so much noise during the days, and eventually found myself at the door to the auditorium, from where I could look at the audience, as they waited for the show to begin. It was a packed hall, and I suddenly had a realisation, and had another wave of nerves – I had no evidence that I could make it through an entire performance in a hall this large. I felt good, I felt impatient and as I looked at the crowd, I felt excited. I was certain that I could do it.

Having returned to the stage I waited for David to arrive to make his announcement, and then for the music cue, and then I walked on.

Everything was as normal, everything was in place. The narrator’s voice and Scrooge’s voice were powerful, and the laughs came in the right places. I could relax, this was all going to be fine, and so it was, until Marley arrived. It was a strange thing, but all of the big, gravelly voices (the ones which you may imagine to be hard work,) were fine, while the gentle, slightly ethereal Marley caused me all sorts of trouble – I couldn’t get to the end of a sentence on a single breath and I was worried that this early in the show this may turn into a march larger problem. In the short term I could use the situation to my advantage, for surely a ghost’s voice would be somewhat breathless? I used the helplessness of not being able complete whole phrases to suggest that this being was in a very temporary state, and it worked well. Actually the problem didn’t grow too much, I struggled a little as the show went on, and had to take a few surreptitious coughs here and there, but on the whole the performance was strong, powerful and successful. The audience were amazing, and they were standing and shouting and whooping before I’d even left the stage.

The ovation when I returned to the stage was amazing, and I soaked it all up, very pleased that I had proved to myself that I could perform the entire show, and ecstatic to be back where I belonged. David had asked if we could have a question and answer session from the stage afterwards, and because it was such a large audience, the library had taken questions in advance. I talked about the various film versions, and also about some of the techniques used in the show to differentiate between characters, which,m as my interviewer pointed out, turned into a bit of a masterclass! The truth was that, having been off the stage for so long, I didn’t really want to leave it now!

When I returned to my dressing room I was excited and elated and very happy, but I also knew that this had been a major physical effort and had taken a lot out of me. I slowly changed, and collected up all of my things, before returning to the auditorium where David and his team were packing up. Everyone said how well the show had gone, and how much they had enjoyed it, while David, with a background in theatre, quietly asked if my voice was ok, as he had been aware that I’d been struggling a little at times.

I said my goodbyes to everyone and drove the short distance back to the hotel. The restaurants in Lewes were mostly closed, so I ordered another UberEats delivery which arrived within 30 minutes, and I ate it watching Back to the Future 2. It had been a long, and emotional day and soon I was ready to sleep.

But, I was back!

The Answers to the Quiz

Tags

A Christmas Carol, A Christmas Carol film, Bleak House, Bleeding Heart Yard, Boston Harbor, Charles Dickens, Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biogrpahy of a Rail Crash, Ebenezer Scrooge, Jacob Marley, Rochester Cathedral, The Pickwick Papers

Today, my 8 days of quarantine over, and showing negative results, I am on the road again, driving to Lewes Delaware to perform to an enormous audience in a huge auditorium – nothing like starting small and gently working back up to full strength, is there? My throat is still a little tender from much coughing, but I have been rehearsing in the cabin and all seems well – wish me luck!

So, as I get back to normal, it is time to put you out of your misery and post the answers to the quiz questions – well done to anyone who got a full house!

A Christmas Carol Quiz

1: How many ghosts visit Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas Eve?

The secret to this question is in the exact wording. The answer is not 4, or even 3.  The correct answer is 1 – Marley’s Ghost, for all of the others come after midnight, and therefore on Christmas Day.  You could say that in the unabridged text Ebenezer looks out of his window and sees the sky filled with phantoms, but they didn’t strictly come to visit him, so my official answer stays at 1.

2: In what region of London do the Cratchit family live?

Camden Town.  This was the same region that the Dickens family lived in when Charles was a young boy. His father was imprisoned for debt, thereby showing him what poverty was really like.

3: What is the name of Scrooge’s nephew’s flirtatious friend?

Topper – ‘Well Hellloooooo. Ding Dong!’

4: What was the name of the young clerk who worked alongside a young Ebenezer at Mr Fezziwig’s?

Dick Wilkins.  Just as an aside, when young Charles worked in the blacking warehouse, pasting labels on pots of shoe blacking, he worked alongside a boy named Bob Fagin.  He took both names and used them for characters in later works.

Bah! Humbug!  All of the answers in this section have the initials BH

1: What is the name of Charles Dickens’s 9^th full length novel, in which he satirises the legal industry?

Bleak House, published in 20 monthly instalments between 1852-53, and featuring the never ending court case of Jarndyce V Jarndyce

2: The name of a schoolmaster in Our Mutual Friend

Bradley Headtsone.  ‘There was a kind of settled trouble in the face. It was the face belonging to a naturally slow or inattentive intellect that had toiled hard to get what it had won, and that had to hold it now that it was gotten.’

3: Where Charles Dickens’ ship moored on his 1867 trip to the USA and from where he travelled to the Parker House Hotel (and maybe enjoyed a cup of tea….)

Boston Harbor (I of course use the American spelling)

4: A particularly poor yard in London, described in Little Dorrit

Bleeding Heart Yard.  Dickens describes the area as ‘ a place much changed in feature and in fortune, yet with some relish of ancient greatness about it. Two or three mighty stacks of chimneys, and a few large dark rooms which had escaped being walled and subdivided out of the recognition of their old proportions, gave the Yard a character. It was inhabited by poor people, who set up their rest among its faded glories, as Arabs of the desert pitch their tents among the fallen stones of the Pyramids; but there was a family sentimental feeling prevalent in the Yard, that it had a character.’

There are many theories as to how the Yard got its name, but one suggests that it commemorates the murder of Lady Elizabeth Hatton. It is said that her body was found here on 27 January 1646, “torn limb from limb, but with her heart still pumping blood.”

A question I am often asked is ‘what is your favourite film version of A Christmas Carol’, and the correct answer has to be the same version as the questioner!  Here are 6 versions, can you tell me the year they were made?  I am giving you the actor who played Scrooge in each case

1: Seymour Hicks                   (1938)

2: Mark McDermot                (1910)

A CHRISTMAS CAROL- (1910) J. Searle Dawley, Marc McDermott, Charles S. Ogle – YouTube

3: George C Scott                    (1984)

4: Albert Finney                      (1970)

5: Alastair Sim                         (1951)

6: Michael Cane                      (1992)

One I didn’t list, because I couldn’t find the actor’s name, but is definitely worth a look is ‘Scrooge’ or ‘Marley’s Ghost’, made in 1901, less than 60 years after the book was published: It only lasts 5 minutes or so, but is a remarkable example of the early years of moving pictures

Scrooge, or Marley’s Ghost (1901) | BFI National Archive – YouTube

To finish off, some questions about the life of Charles Dickens

1:  What year was Dickens born (an important year in British/American relations)

1812

2:  What were CD’s middle names?

His full name was Charles John Huffam Dickens. 

3:  What is the FULL title of his first novel?

The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, Containing a Faithful Record of the Perambulations, Perils, Travels, Adventures and Sporting Transactions of the Corresponding Members

4:  What is the name of the town in the county of Kent where Charles Dickens was involved in a serious train crash (if only there was a book available on this subject…..)

Staplehurst.  Ref. ‘Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biography of a Rail Crash’

Dickens and Staplehurst: A Biography of a Rail Crash: Dickens, Gerald: 9781788308519: Amazon.com: Books

5:  Charles Dickens was interred in Westminster Abbey in London, but where did he want to be buried?

In or near to the precincts of Rochester Cathedral, in Kent.  Rochester had featured in many of his novels, including being the main setting for his final, unfinished one ‘The Mystery of Edwin Drood’.  However, the Dean of Westminster and other influential gentlemen of the time felt that he should be given the honour of being laid in Poets Corner along with other literary greats.

Changes in Travel Over 29 Years. Part 1: Flying

Tags

BOAC, Braniff Air, British Caladonean, Continental Airlines, Delta Airlines, NorthWest Airlines, PanAm, Safety Briefings, Sully, TWA, United Airlines

Apart from the memories of specific venues, performances or events, I have also been thinking a lot about how the travel experience has changed over the years. I have already hinted at some things in various blog posts, but here are some of my memories and observations.

I am not one of the rose-tinted spectacles brigade that remembers the days when you dressed up to fly, gentlemen in their trilby hats and women in their pears and chic suits. By the time I first made a transatlantic crossing the rabble (in which I include myself, I should say) had been allowed in and it was a case of anything goes. Although I love looking at images of that golden age of travel, both by air and sea, it seems a different experience to the ones I had. My only regret is that I never got to make a champagne toast to the speed of Mach 2 on Concorde, which was still in service when in 93, and had a further 10 years ahead of her (with a year’s hiatus due to the tragedy in Paris). I was always just a normal passenger.], who turned right when boarding a plane.

So, what has changed over the years?

Firstly, there was the suitcase – with a handle, to carry, or at least to put on an airport cart that required a coin to release it from a stack of other carts in the way you collect a supermarket trolley now. The experienced traveller would have the correct currency available, or would tip a porter at the curbside to take the luggage to check in. As the years passed I began to look on enviously at passengers who had cases with two wheels on one edge of the case so that they pull their own bags, and when I eventually got such a case, I looked on with envy at those who had cases with 4 wheels, which seemed to glide much easier across the floors. I assume that his innovation (and I hope that the man who invented wheeled cases has received all of the awards and rewards that he deserves), caused the end of carpeted terminal buildings.

On domestic flights in America there was an option to check in and leave your baggage at the curbside where you got out of your taxi, and entrusted it to a guy in a cap, hoping it would get onto the same flight – it often didn’t. But international check in was more complex. You had to make sure you had your passport, of course, and your ticket – yes, a real cardboard ticket, which you presented to the representative of whichever airline you were booked with, and woe betide if you’d left your tickets at home. Today, the flag carriers still exist, BA, American, United, Delta, but I often think back to those trans-Atlantic airlines that are no more: BOAC, British Caledonian, Braniff Airlines (the ‘flying carrot’ ) Laker Air, TWA, PanAm, Continental, NorthWest and I am sure many many more. At the desk the agent, in a stylish uniform featuring a cap or hat, would hand you your boarding pass and only then would you discover what seat you were travelling in – no opportunities for checking in online and choosing your own location. The agent would ask you about your luggage – had you packed it yourself, had the case been in your possession since you packed it, and had anybody asked you to take anything aboard? It was only checking in for this year’s tour that I realised that this isn’t a question anymore, and I am not aware of when it ceased being asked.

Today, once you are checked in and your bag has disappeared into the great black hole of airport baggage handlers, and to be fair the success rate of getting it to the same destination as you is very high, one moves on to security, where you are asked to divest yourself of items of apparel, including shoes, belts, jackets and watches, before being intimately screened by a large machine, and then probably being patted down by a blue-gloved agent, as your bags are being scrutinised thanks to the wonders of x-ray. The security checks of old were much less extreme and a lot seemed to be left to the trust that the officers had in the passengers. This, of course, was lampooned in ‘Airplane’ as various terrorists complete with ammunition, bazookas, rocket launchers and guns, happily stroll through the gate, while two agents wrestle a helpless elderly lady into handcuffs. It is extraordinary to think that prior to the horrors of 9-11 friends and well-wishers could come to the gate with you (maybe not on international flights, now I think about it,) and American airports were more like bus stations in those days, crowded with people lingering to wave goodbye or waiting to hug hello. On one tour I got off a flight to discover a group of costumed Victorian characters waiting at the gate to welcome me to their city through the medium of song!

The design of the planes has not changed a great deal of course, but what was available onboard has. Back in the 90’s one movie would be shown, on a screen at the front of the cabin, and you hoped your headphone socket worked, and that there wasn’t a particularly tall person sitting in the rows ahead of you. A further development was little screens which dropped down from the ceiling along the cabin (all very James Bond), meaning that you had more chance of seeing the film, and then – oh, goodness what a moment of excitement, you got an actual screen in the back of the seat in front of you, and you could control it from a handset that unclipped from the screen unit with an extendable leaded that snapped back into place if you let go, and from which you could even make astronomically expensive phone calls! Nowadays not only do most planes offer inflight films, with a HUGE catalogue to chose from, but many airlines have apps from which you can watch films using the plane’s wifi connection, if the particular aircraft doesn’t have built in TVs

One aspect of flying that has never changed has been the safety briefing – yes, we are still told, and shown, how to fix a seatbelt together, and how to undo it again, as if we have never been in an car before. Over the years some airlines have tried to make the briefing funnier by employing comedians to record them, with suitably ribald asides, but basically they are the same. I remember one larger than life flight attendant giving the briefing telling the passengers that ‘all smokers on this flight will be pleased to know that there are 2 smoking areas on this aircraft – one on the end of the left wing, and one at the end of the right!’ I do always look for my nearest exit (sometimes behind me), and having watched the film Sully a few times, I am less snippy than once I was about the idea of placing a life vest over my head and tightening the straps around my waist when flying at 35,000 feet

Preparing for international arrival is much easier now than it used to be, because there is nothing to do! I used to have to fill out various immigration and customs documents requiring my passport details, which I had inevitably left in the overhead locker – my preference for a window seat meant that I would have to ask my row companions if I could get out to fetch it (unless I could find a moment when they both required the lavatory, as they are still reassuringly called on planes, at the same time ). I would often also find that my fountain pen had reacted badly to the changes of air pressure, and that when I took the lid off to fill in the forms my fingers would get covered in ink, which stain would remain for a few days like a strange tattoo.

Yes, a lot has changed about air travel, and even after all of these years I still love it and find it exciting

Tomorrow I shall move onto driving, hotels and keeping in touch…..

A Few Secrets and a Memory of Dad

Tags

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tags

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From VA to MA

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Blue Mountains, Charles Dickens, Charlottesville, Ebenezer Scrooge, Football World Cup, Hertz Car Rental, Laurel and Hardy, Lenox, The Berkshires, Trail of the Lonesome Pine, TSA, Waynesboro

On Tuesday morning I woke on the outskirts of Waynseboro with the sense that I had nowhere to be for quite a while, for this was to be a day off, with only travel to occupy me, and that wasn’t until the afternoon. I had a lazy morning ahead of me and intended to make the most of it by doing as little as possible. I probably should have taken a scenic drive into the National Park and visited some of the ‘cascading waterfalls, spectacular vistas, fields of wildflowers, and quiet wooded hollows’ that the website promised, but the fact was I felt completely empty and used up – this needed to be a ‘floppy day’ in which I re-charged my batteries a little for the next leg. I even found it difficult to write my blog, which isn’t in itself an energetic task, but my brain seemed in need of rest too, and was coming out on strike along with the rest of me!

I did what you would expect me to do, I had breakfast and loaded some laundry into a machine, and when the latter was complete, I set to packing my cases one more. Actually, this was quite an important moment in this year’s tour, for it would be the last time that I needed to squeeze my costumes into the little roller bag, or stuff my top hat with socks and wind my scarf around it. When next I unpacked, I would have no more flights until I go home, meaning that everything I need for my shows will be able to stay in my car.

I had asked the hotel if I could have a late check out, and as midday approached, I made final checks of the room to ensure that I left nothing and loaded my belongings into the black Highlander. I was heading back north.

The drive back to Charlottesville took me on a freeway with stunning views of the mountains to my right, and I began to regret not following The Skyline Drive earlier that morning. At one point I noticed tourist signs directing me to The Blue Ridge Trail, and suddenly I was a child again, putting my favourite 45rpm vinyl disk onto our old record player; I could almost hear the various clicks and whirrs as the mechanism allowed the disk to drop onto the turntable, and then the arm with the little stylus needle at the end swung across and lowered itself with a static ‘click’ perfectly onto the edge of the record. A moment of crackles and then a guitar started to play, followed by a voice: ‘On a mountain in Viriginia stands a lonesome pine…’ Yes, those where certainly the Blue Mountains to my right, and I was definitely in Virginia, so somewhere, it stood to reason, was a trail to a lonesome pine. I used to sing along to that record over and over when I was a child, and just for a few moments as I drove, I could hear Laurel and Hardy’s brilliant performance once more.

The drive to the airport took less than an hour, and I passed the time by listening to BBC news on the radio. At one time there was a traffic report, which described an incident causing delays between Hyde and Ashton-Under-Lyme, which is where I had been performing just a week before! I found a petrol station, filled the tank and then continued to the car rental returns area and walked the short distance into the terminal, where the paperwork would be completed. From the Enterprise desk I walked to the check-in desk, dropped my case, and then made my way to security. No bustle, no crowding, no fuss, just a very small, friendly airport.

Ahead of me at the bag drop was an elderly lady who didn’t seem quite sure what to do, and as I stood behind her, she turned and said ‘Oh, you go ahead, this is my very first time flying, and I am not sure how to do it all’. She had chosen the right airport to make her flying debut at, for everyone, me included, took her under our wings and looked after her. I helped her get the bins to put her bags and things in, and she asked if she could keep her coat on, her purse with her, her shoes on, and I told her that everything needed to go through the x-ray machine. The staff at security were brilliant, also very gently telling her what she needed to put on the conveyor belt. ‘Where do I go after that?’ she asked, ‘Oh, ‘said the kindly TSA officer, ‘we will talk about that on another side of this part, don’t you worry, we will look after you.’ He picked up a metal water bottle from her tray, ‘is this empty?’ he asked, and she replied with a huge sense of pride ‘Yes!’, as if she had passed that part of the test with flying colours. ‘Am I allowed to fill it up again?’ ‘Oh, yes ma’am, there are water stations just through those doors, that’s fine. Which airline are you flying with, ma’am?’ ‘American’. ‘Oh, I think there is a fountain by the American gates, let me check’, and with that he called another officer over, ‘Mack, is there are a water fountain over at the American Airlines gate? This lady is flying for the very first time, and she wanted to know if she can fill her bottle.’ ‘Oh, yes I think that there is. Hey, Bill,’ he called to another staff member, ‘is there a water station up at American?’ The answer came back in the affirmative and was relayed back to the smiling lady. When our bags had been cleared, and we both were putting our coats and shoes on, she said, ‘Thank you all so much for looking after me’ and went off to fill her water bottle at the American Airlines gate. I hoped for her sake that there would some equally kindly and friendly people at the next airport, which would probably be a huge, heaving, hub of humanity all rushing to be somewhere else as quickly as possible, maybe not seeing, certainly not caring about the scared elderly lady for whom all of this was an alien experience.

I had an hour or so before my flight, so I bought some lunch and listened to the BBC’s radio coverage of the build-up to the important football match in Qatar, England vs Wales, the very first time that two home nations (England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland) had played each other in a World Cup tournament. Unfortunately for me, the USA were also playing their final qualifying match against Iran, so any TVs that were showing the tournament were tuned to that encounter, But still, I had my radio commentary, or at least I did right up to the moment that the whistle blew to start the game, at which a pre-recorded voice informed me that ‘due to copyright issues you are unable to listen to this content in your present location’. And that was that! I had to follow the match by a rolling text report.

The flight back to Washington DC lasted for only 20 minutes, and by the time I was in the toytown terminal A and making my way towards the grown-up terminal D, England had scored three goals and ensured that they would finish at the top of their group and progress to the next stage. Meanwhile, the USA had a one goal lead over Iran, and needed to hold onto it if they were also to progress. Fortunately, they did win, meaning that they also progressed to the next stage.

My next flight was to Hartford, Connecticut and once more it was very busy. The clerk at the gate asked if anyone would like to check their roller bags, as the bin space would be very limited, and I offered mine. As a thank you, I was allowed to board with Group 2, rather than having to wait for my original allocation of Group 3 to be called, the irony being that there was so much space in the bins when I boarded that I could easily have taken my bag!

It was another short flight, under an hour, and soon I was reunited with both of my bags and was making my way to the Hertz counter where I was introduced to my companion for the rest of the trip – a Grey Hyundai Sante Fe, loaded it up and set off towards Lenox in The Berkshires.

This will be my 5th trip to Lenox. but I have never approached it from the Hartford region before, nor in the dark. I put the address of the hotel into my phone, 70 Lenox Road, and dutifully followed the instructions. The route didn’t take me on freeways, but through small towns and along winding country roads, which meant a lot more concentration, especially in the rural areas where my eyes were scanning the woodlands for any movement that may presage a deer leaping into the road in front of me. The towns, on the other hand, were beautiful, with colourful Christmas lights lining the way.

The drive took about 1 hour and 20 minutes, but at last I was approaching my destination, the Courtyard by Marriott hotel just outside Lenox, and yet still I did not recognise anything. I began to panic slightly when driving along a dark road my satnav app announced that I had arrived at my destination, or rather just said ‘Done!’ and abandoned me. I had a horrible thought that somehow I had entered an incorrect address – I could be anywhere! I wasn’t even aware of crossing the state line, and for all I knew I could be in some far-flung corner of Connecticut, miles, and hours, from where I should be – I had simply followed the screen rather than having any knowledge of where I actually was. I pulled over, and checked the address, and sure enough I had clicked on an address in New Lenox Road, rather than Lenox Road. I nervously re-entered the address and waited to see how long it would take me to get my hotel, and I can’t tell you the relief when it came up ‘6 minutes’

Soon I was on a road I knew, and there, on a hill to my left, was the Courtyard. I checked in, purchased a microwavable meal of pasta and meatballs to have in my room, and brought a day of travel from VA to MA to an end.

Performing With Kevin the Penguin in a Shopping Arcade

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Birmingham, Birmingham Penguin Parade Trail, Charles Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge, Great Western Arcade, Japan Crafts, Kevin The Penguin, Spaghetti Junction, The Charles Dickens Museum

On Tuesday I was back on the road again for the first of my final two British events before returning to America again. My first venue was Birmingham, and I was not sure what to expect from it.

Earlier in the year I had been approached by what seemed to be an events management agency to perform on behalf of a shopping arcade in Birmingham as part of a series of special events on the run up to Christmas – not just on behalf of the arcade, but actually in the arcade, at 5 o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon. I had looked online at images of the venue, and it looked very pretty, and pretty historic, but my show, which is essentially a theatre show? Would it work, could it work? As I set off from Abingdon, I had NO idea what the day would hold and actually felt a real sense of fear for the first time in many years.

Most of my props were still packed in the car, but I had to rearrange them to include my reading desk and various extra props needed for Mr Dickens is Coming, which I will be performing on Wednesday evening. Once everything had been squeezed in, and the boot shut successfully, I was ready to head to the Midlands

The drive to Brum is a fairly quick one, taking me to the famed Spaghetti Junction and from there along the very busy Aston Expressway into the heart of the city, where I managed to completely confuse my satnav unit, and spent quite a time trying to drive into pedestrianised roads, or heading off in the completely wrong direction, before finally I found myself at the Snow Street Railway Station car park. I found a space and then, once again following the map on my phone, this time in walking mode, I went to discover the city, and right opposite the station entrance I saw The Great Western Arcade. Although I had meant to walk to the apartment where I was to stay, I changed route slightly to investigate my venue for the evening. The GW Arcade is, as the online pictures had suggested, a straight elegant Victorian arcade, beautifully lit for Christmas with tasteful twinkling lights and a large Christmas tree bedecked in gold. As I walked through, there didn’t seem to be anywhere obvious to perform. The shops were all independents, no national or international chains, and included a Victorian sweet shop, a whisky shop, some high-end clothes shops, it was all very smart and chi chi.

In the middle of the mall was a slightly larger area, where the Christmas tree stood, and I imagined this would be the best place to perform – but I couldn’t imagine that we would draw much of an audience here and I would simply end up annoying tired commuters who were hurrying to catch their trains at Snow Hill.

For now, though, I needed to check into my apartment, which as it happened was only a couple of minutes’ walk from the Arcade. Around a square which as alive with a brightly lit Christmas market (Oh, yes, Christmas has come early to the major cities of England), and into Temple Street. where the front door to ‘my home’ nestled between two shops. To gain access to the building I had to punch a PIN onto a keypad, and I had great trouble finding the message with that number on it. I had found the apartment on a booking agency which I often use to book hotels, and had received many messages from them, and the apartment owner, over the previous days, but could I find the one about the entrance code? No, I couldn’t! It seemed to be buried deep inside other messages and was only accessible through following a certain unexplained order of clicks. I sat miserably on a bench searching and searching and searching, slowly coming to the conclusion that I might be spending my night in the car, when all of a sudden up popped the relevant page! I quickly punched in the number and took a lift up to the relevant floor, before punching in the second code which allowed me into the flat itself. It was a lovely apartment, fresh, bright and stylish. I put my bags down, freshened up a little and then headed out again, as it was time to meet Katie and Man, my contacts for the event who were waiting for me back at the arcade. We all got on straight away and went back into the arcade to decide how best to stage the event. We all agreed that the area around the Christmas tree would be the most appropriate, even though I would be sharing my performing space with a large blue and yellow fibreglass Penguin, who apparently, so Katie told me, had been nicknamed Kevin. I may have performed in stranger circumstances over the years, but I am struggling to remember when that might have been!

Having seen the location, I now had to decide how much of my set to unload from the car. Looking at the stream of passers-by it didn’t seem sensible to try and create a fixed stage, for I could see that I would have to be constantly moving to allow people through, so I decided on just the hatstand and the stool: everything else I could improvise. Katie and Man kindly offered to help me carry my things and we all trooped into carpark, where for a moment I couldn’t remember which floor the car was on. The garage featured 1/2 floors, so they were labeled 1A, 1B, 2A, 2B. I knew I was on floor 2,but was it 2B, or not…..? You can fill in the rest of the actor’s joke for yourselves. We actually found the car on 2A, and I unloaded what I needed, so that we could set off for the Arcade once more: me with my roller bag and costumes, Katie with the stool and top hat, whilst Man, the smallest of us all, took charge of the large unwieldy hatstand!

The show was due to start at 5 0’clock, and it was about 4.20 now, so I changed (in an empty shop unit), whilst Katie and Man optimistically put out some chairs for the audience. I emerged in costume, and Man immediately taking lots of photographs (her area of expertise being in digital marketing and website design)

As I posed and grinned, I noticed a gentleman hovering nearby clutching a copy of a book that I knew very well, and which filled me with a feeling of warm nostalgia and happiness; it was the white edition of A Christmas Carol published by The Dickens House Museum (now The Charles Dickens Museum) in 1965. Why did this particular edition have such an effect on me? The very first time I can remember the story being read to me, it was on Christmas Eve and I must have been 5 or 6. My Uncle Claud and Aunt Audrey, with their children Kate and Rowland, were staying for Christmas and Claud read from the same, white-covered edition to us all, so introducing me to a story that has shaped my life. I have later editions of the same book, with a red cover and a green cover, but to see the white edition made me quite sentimental.

I soon fell into conversation with Barry, the book’s owner, and it turned out that he was a member of the Birmingham branch of The Dickens Fellowship and had been since 1965 at which time he was the youngest member of the society. ‘Now,’ we ruminated, ‘I am the oldest!’ We chatted for quite a while, and he shared his lifelong passion for Dickens. Barry was a wonderfully cheerful and knowledgeable gentleman, who had worked in that most Dickensian of industries, the law. At least I knew I had one audience member, and I began to feel more confident about the hour or so ahead of me, and gradually a few more people arrived and sat down, obviously come specifically to see what I had to offer. At five o’clock, I stepped into the space, with Kevin watching over me, and began. I didn’t have the usual music cue, so instead simply welcomed the group, now numbering10, by telling them that the very first time that Charles Dickens performed A Christmas Carol in public, it was in the city of Birmingham, and that he had told the audience that they should laugh or cry and feel free to express their emotions openly, rather than sit obediently in silence. I hope that the present group would do the same, and off I went.

Of course, the show was compromised slightly by the surroundings, and as well as concentrating on my acting I also had to be aware of the people using the arcade for their journey home, and make sure that I didn’t get in their way. Some simply marched straight through the set without caring, or possibly without even noticing what was going on, others hesitated, unsure if they should proceed, and to those folk I took the action to one side of the area and incorporated a slight gesture in the manner of a police office on traffic duty, as if to say, ‘please come through, its fine: it’s a pedestrian arcade after all!’ The nods or whispers of thanks from those people, made the performance even more special. Some people even stopped, watched for a while, and then took a seat, meaning that I had a larger audience at the end than I did at the beginning – it is always best that way round. Katie and Man sat together outside The Good Intent, a rather nice-looking pub situated opposite Kevin’s plinth, and from where quite a few interested drinkers watched the goings on with a sense of curiosity and, I hope, some admiration.

I cut a few bits of my longer script out, trying to judge the interest levels of my audience in the somewhat chilly alley, but kept the bulk of it. I finished, of course, with ‘God bless us, everyone’ and as I took a bow, I was greeted by one of the most welcome, and unexpected standing ovations I have ever received. I shook hands and chatted with the audience members, and the nerves of that morning seemed but a distant memory. The crowd gently dissipated, drifting away into the Birmingham night, as if they themselves were spectres, and I returned to the empty shop to change, while Katie and Man put the chairs away.

By way of celebration, we had a drink in The Good Intent, Man insisting that we bring my props into the pub rather than leaving them out on the arcade, so we sat at a booth protected by a hatstand which actually was rather useful for us all to hang our coats on.

The evening finished with another trip to my car (me taking charge of the hatstand this time), and we shared hugs and said our goodbyes before Katie and Man visited the Christmas market, and I bought a pizza to eat in my apartment far above the noisy and bustling city streets below.

It had been a fascinating day, and I am still not sure why Kevin, the blue and yellow Penguin was there – but he had been a fine companion, nonetheless.

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