The Final Day

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Byers'Choice, Charles Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge, Hertz Car Rental, Hyundai Santa Fe, Word Cloud

Sunday would be my last day in the USA for this year, and it has certainly been a tour like no other. I had a whole morning at The Ambler Inn, which started with breakfast in the bar. As I finished I was greeted by some audience members from the previous afternoon, and we chatted for a while about this, that and the possibility of my performing in Pittsburgh in the future. Actually, Maria and John were not complete strangers, as I had performed a video reading from The Pickwick Papers which was used in a Christmas variety show, and we had been in touch since then. It was a lovely chat, but they were driving on to Alabama, and I had a show to get ready for.

Back in my room I was playing around with some ideas for next year’s 30th anniversary tour, and found a site that created word clouds, so I entered all of the characters that I play in the show (including the dressing gown) and pressed the ‘enter’ button to see what came up. I don’t know what sort of merchandise I was thinking with this idea – a tote bag maybe, or perhaps a fiendish jigsaw. Possibly, probably, nothing, but it was fun to do for an hour or so.

At 11 o’clock I checked out of the hotel and a few minutes later arrived at Byers’ Choice, where I found a parking slot right by the door. I took my large suitcase in, for after the show I would need to pack it with my top hat, cane and various other things ready to fly home. In fact I had plenty of time, so I unpacked my entire case for the first time since I touched down in Boston. Unpacked, so I could pack again.

I went to the hall, checked in with David, and discussed some changes in the lighting plot, brought about to my ‘repositioning’ of Scrooge’s Grave (I had previously played it in the centre of the stage, but now it is stage right, but had forgot to mention that fact the day before!). We also did a quick sound check, and then I went back my room, so that audience members, who were standing in the pouring rain, could be let in. I busied myself with sewing on the button, that had fallen off on Saturday and then got into costume and relaxed as best I could, before returning to the hall at 1.20 (the show starting on the half hour). It was another very full house, and another choir was producing beautiful harmonies to entertain them. Soon Bob gave me the sign, and began the process that would lead to the show itself, that being congratulating the choir, taking their good luck wishes, and then slipping into the large room when David had faded the house lights, and Bob was making his introductory remarks. In no time I was back on the stage and starting the script once again.

I had a big fright early on, for as I placed my cane, which becomes an important symbol later in the script, at the bottom of the hat rack it slipped, and was left precariously laying with its handle against the brass stand, the other end hanging over the back edge of the stage, the slightest jolt would dislodge it and send it falling down irretrievably to the floor below, which would not only leave Mr Scrooge without a knocker, but Tiny Tim without a crutch also. I trod VERY carefully in that quarter of the stage, until Scrooge left his office and I could thankfully rescue it.

The rest of the show went well, although my voice and breath control was much the same as it had been on the two previous days. I did get a round of applause for Fezziwig’s dance (if truth be told, I complete milked a round of applause, pretty well refusing to carry on until the hesitant clap from a person on the stage left side grew to encompass the whole audience!) It was another fun show, and the audience joined in more and more as we went on, and It was a good performance to bring the tour to an end with.

Once again Bob hosted a Q&A, although a lot of the audience rose to leave, probably wanting to get on the road as soon as possible,as the weather was closing in. Those that did remain listened attentively, as I spoke about how and why Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol, had I heard any stories about him through the family, and who is my favourite Formula One driver – somebody reads my blog regularly, you know who you are!

Bob brought the session to a close, I took my final bow, and left the stage. Back in the conference room I changed from costume into normal clothes, stuffed socks into my top hat and wrapped the scarf around it, before carefully packing my suitcase, and roller bag, ready for the flight back to England. When everything that needed to be was in my bags I went back to the theatre which was rapidly being changed back into a manufacturing facility, and said my goodbye and thanks to David, Jeff and Bob and Pam. The Byers family are always so generous to me, and on this year’s fragmented tour they have been even more so – reassuring me that everything would be OK, cautioning me not to come back too soon or too hard, just being good and kind friends.

Actually this wasn’t quite my final goodbye, for back with my cases I realised that I didn’t have my car key! I unpacked all three bags with no joy, and then remembered that I had it in my hand when I took the microphone back to David. I went back to the sound table and sure enough there was the key, on top of the mic pack. I said more goodbyes, and finally left Byers’ Choice.

The drive to Newark airport was through thick mist and heavy rain, meaning that on many occasions I couldn’t see lane markings, and had to make my way gingerly through intersections. As I approached the environs of the airport I could see that it was immensely busy, and I was glad that I had time in hand. At the Hertz garage I bade farewell to the Santa Fe, although I hadn’t spent as much time driving hither and thither as I had hoped to, it had been a faithful companion, even it did try to take over driving duties.

I was right, the terminal was very busy, and I stood for an age in the security line, before having my roller bag pulled aside for further inspection. It was with horror that I realised almost straight away that I had failed to empty my water flask following the show. and the humourless TSA officer firmly told me that I could either go back to check-in and check the bag, and start the process all over again, or the flask would be thrown away. I had no desire to go back to square one and stand in security all over again, so reluctantly let the flask become a victim of the tour.

I was very hungry by this time, not having had anything to eat since breakfast, so I found a restaurant in the terminal and had a burger and a creamy meringue desert, before going to Gate 102, where I now sit. In my eyeline is the jet bridge over which I will walk, but at the moment it is not attached to a plane, there being no plane to attach it to – Considering we should have boarded forty minutes ago it seems likely that we will be late.

Update – yes we will be late We have all been moved to another gate, where there is no plane either! Am announcement has just been made, telling us that, ‘We are waiting for the aircraft to be towed to our gate – it IS on the ground….’ Well, that’s good to know, for it would be a hell of a job towing it, if it wasn’t!

So, this year’s tour was of course dominated by the six days I had to spend in isolation, which was a real shock not only physically, but emotionally as well There was the irrational guilt of letting people down, there was the fear of the financial consequences, there was the sheer frustration of not being able to do what I was here to do. But, aside from that week, the shows I was able to perform all went very well, and the performance is in a very good place. The only new venue that I actually got to perform at was the theatre in Waynesboro, Virginia, and that was a spectacular evening, and I hope that the venue can find a regular place in future tours. Of the old favourites, we had sell-outs at all four performances at the Vaillancourts, and at both in Lenox. The return to Lewes was a triumph with around 550 attending, and both shows at Byers’ Choice were upward of 650. Looking at the full half of the glass, it has been a very successful trip, and has laid the foundations for next year’s great celebration, work on which has already started,

Thank you to all of those people who have made this happen, even if I was not able to get to your venue, and to the people without whom none of it would be possible: The audiences.

It is now 11pm, an hour after we should have flown and still there is no change – I will certainly sleep well when we finally get airborne.

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.

A Tale of Two Ghosts

Tags

A Christmas Carol, AC Marriott, Charles Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge, ET, Hamlet, Hertz Car Rental, Kenneth Branagh, Shakespeare In Love, The Golden Compass, United Airlines, William Shakespeare

On Friday it was time to travel again, returning to America for the second part of my 2022 tour. Typically, an international travel day involves departing Heathrow at around 10am, which means packing my cases the night before and getting a taxi at around 6 in the morning. However, on this occasion my flight was not due to depart until 5pm, which gave me plenty of time at home with Liz. My cab was booked for 1.45, so I spent the morning with my cases on the living room floor methodically packing everything that I will need over the next two and a half weeks. Our parting is also difficult, but somehow the extra time on Friday made it more so.

My cab arrived bang on time (a rather scruffy Toyota Prius, compared to the nice Mercedes that takes the early morning shift) and soon I was being driven around the Oxford ring road, and onto the M40, towards London. There was a fair amount of traffic, but I had plenty of time in hand and arrived at Terminal 2 good and early. I had managed to negotiate the United Airlines check-in app (including not only having to upload my Covid vaccination status, but also being requested to manually type every date and drug supplier of my two original injections plus two boosters), so I was able to stroll straight up to the bag drop counter where my passport was checked, and bag tagged. It suddenly struck me that one is never asked if you have packed your own bag, or if anyone has given you anything to take on board anymore, I wonder when that stopped being a safety requirement?

The airport didn’t seem to be very busy, and I cleared security quite rapidly, although my roller case was deemed worthy of extra inspection, and when the agent opened it and saw my gold and red costume waistcoats, she let out a loud ‘Ooooooh!’

The change in my timings was very confusing to me, for having completed the formalities it really felt as if I should go and buy breakfast, because that’s what I always do. Time in an airport, like in a Las Vegas casino, works in a different way to normal life. I mooched around a bit until the signs told me that I should proceed to my gate, which for United means taking an escalator far down into the ground and walking beneath the taxiways before rising into another part of the terminal again. I have made this walk on plenty of occasions, not least back in September when I flew with United, but this time I had a real sense of vertigo as I was taken into the abyss (my online dictionary defines abyss as ‘a deep or seemingly bottomless chasm’, and that is how it felt). I held the rail tightly, aware that I had two United pilots behind me, and I hoped that they didn’t choose today to suffer from the same affliction

The relative quietness of the airport continued into the satellite terminal, for we appeared to be the only flight departing at that time of day, and there was none of the bustle and excitement that makes airports interesting places to be. I knew from the seat plans on the United app that it was quite a full flight, but I had managed to find myself an aisle seat in the centre section with an empty seat next to me. As regulars know I usually prefer to have a window seat, but other than two rows right at the back of the plane outside the lavatories and galley, United don’t offer window seats to economy passengers, unless they pay an extra $169 for the privilege, which I was not inclined to do – especially as the entire flight would be in darkness, making any possibility of a view fairly unlikely.

I settled into seat 34D and spread myself out, took my shoes off and started to look through the film choices. Then I realised that I should have been in 33D, and sure enough another passenger came along the aisle brandishing her boarding card. 33D, my assigned seat, was full also, so I asked that passenger where he should be (I would have been perfectly happy to go to his correct seat), and he looked at his pass to discover that he should have been in 32C. The cabin became like one of those children’s games where you have to switch tiles about to make a picture, having only one empty square to move into each time. Eventually everyone was settled where they should be, and we were ready to leave.

Once again, I scrolled through the film listings and for my first choice decided on Shakespear in Love. It is a fun film, and Joseph Fiennes and Gwyneth Paltrow are superb, as is the supporting cast which features some amazing actors such as Geoffrey Rush, Tom Wilkinson, Judi Dench, Colin Firth, Ben Affleck, Antony Sher, Martin Clunes and that nice butler Carson, from Downton Abbey, playing the nurse in Romeo and Juliet. Now, of course, the main part of the plot is that William Shakespeare falls in love (not really a plot spoiler, the clue is in the title), and at one point he ends up in the bed of Viola de Lesseps, and it was at this moment that the meal service came around, so I paused the film in order to discuss my dining options and to deliberate between chicken or ravioli. I was aware that the flight attendant gave a rather uneasy look at the screen, before serving me quickly and moving on – the scene was of two entwined naked bodies (admittedly, just about artfully decent with sheets), glowing golden in candlelight, in the very heights of passion and extasy, and it looked for all the world that I was watching some x-rated adult movie. The ravioli was nice, though….

My next two film choices were rather less adult, in fact positively childlike, as I watched ET for the first time in many years, and The Golden Compass, staring Daniel Craig and that nice Mr Carson again, this time as John Faa.

My final movie selection, which would get me onto the ground, was much more highbrow as I decided to watch Kenneth Branagh’s 1996 film version of Hamlet. It is unabridged production and beautifully told and I enjoyed a great sense of pride in that the location for the castle of Elsinore was Blenheim Palace, just a few miles from our home. If the cast of Shakespeare in Love and The Golden Compass had been stellar, then Hamlet was a real who’s who – Branagh, himself of course, Derek Jacobi, Julie Christie, Richard Briers, Brian Blessed, Kate Winslet, not to mention cameos from such as Robin Williams, Ken Dodd, Jack Lemmon, Billy Crystal, John Mills, Richard Attenborough, John Gielgud, Charlton Heston and even a brief appearance by John Spencer-Churchill, the 11th Ducke of Marlborough, whose house they using top film in.

As I watched the opening scenes, I was reminded of a passage in A Christmas Carol which is never used in any adaptations, but one which I always enjoy: when the narrator is trying to convince the reader that Jacob Marley really was dead, and. ‘ this must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate’ he goes on to reference Hamlet, saying that: ‘If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet’s Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot—say Saint Paul’s Churchyard for instance—literally to astonish his son’s weak mind’

In fact, as I continued to watch the scene, the influence of it on Dickens became ever clearer, for the conversation between Hamlets senior and junior is so similar to that between Marley and Scrooge. Each ghost bemoans that they are doomed to an eternity of helpless wandering – Hamlet: ‘I am thy father’s spirit. doom’d for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purged away’, whilst Jacob tells Scrooge, ‘Nor can I tell you what I would. A very little more is all permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere. My spirit never walked beyond our counting-house—mark me!—in life my spirit never roved beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole; and weary journeys lie before me!” The ghost of Hamlet’s father says to his son ‘My hour is almost come….lend thy serious hearing to what I shall unfold.’ and Marley says ‘“Hear me! My time is nearly gone.” Charles Dickens was a great admirer of Shakespear, and the opening of A Christmas Carol is testament to that.

I didn’t have enough time in flight to get too far into the plot, but I think that I will download the film so that I can watch it during the rest of my trip.

The landing at Boston’s Logan airport was uneventful, and in no time we were at the gate at gathering cases, coats and bags. The relative deserted nature of Heathrow was mirrored in America for it seemed as if the London flight was the only international one coming in at that hour. Certainly, the immigration hall was very empty and the whole process was completed in record time, as it always seems to be when I do not have a connection to make. I have been flying into Boston on the Thanksgiving weekend for many years now and know exactly where to go and which bus to board (33 or 55) to take me to the car rental facility. I presented myself at the Hertz Gold member’s office and was directed to a Nissan Pathfinder – an all-wheel drive SUV, in case the snow should begin to fall, which has happened to me here in the past. I settled myself in, fixed the little phone holder, that I had bought a couple of days before, into the air vent and asked the navigation app to take me to the AC Marriott in downtown Worcester.

This year’s tour, although essentially similar to those of the past, has a few changes – some venues have gone (most sadly The Country Cupboard in Lewisburg PA, which has closed for business during the last year – I will so miss my time there with Missy and KJ), and in other places hotels that have become a home from home to me over the years are no longer open or viable. In Worcester I have traditionally stayed at the Beechwood Hotel, but this year the Vaillancourts had booked me into the Marriott, so I had to concentrate a little more than usual, as I was driving through a part of the city that I do not know well yet. The lobby of the hotel was loud with a variety of parties and conferences taking place, but I was soon checked in and riding to the 4th floor, away from the carousing, where I found myself in a very spacious and superbly stylish room.

I unpacked my costumes and hung them so that the creases could gently fall out before Saturday’s performances, and then went back to the restaurant where I had a superb Thai salmon and rice. As soon as the server heard my accent, he fist-pumped me and said ‘Hey, great result today!’ England had been playing the USA in the football World Cup, and they (you) had held us to a goalless draw. The game had been played while I was at 35,000 feet, but the news reports that I read after landing suggested that England had been pretty woeful, and the game had been a rather dull one.

It was about 2.30am in my world when I finished my supper, so I went back to my room and fell asleep to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 1. There is no rest for the wicked, and on Saturday it is back on stage with two performances of my 2-act version of A Christmas Carol for my good friends at Vaillancourt Folk Art

Heading Home For the First Time

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Delta Airlines, Dodge Charger, Ebenezer Scrooge, Hertz Car Rental, Hidden Creek Falls Park, The Minneapolis Club

A daily service provided by The Minneapolis Club is to slip a little card under your door to inform you of the likely weather – low and high temperatures and a brief description of the likely conditions. On Monday morning the words ‘Light snow flurries’ had been written. The card had obviously been written by a native of Minnesota, for when I opened my curtains the ‘light snow flurries’ were the sort that would bring Britain to its knees. The snow seemed heavy, and the roads were white. As I would be flying home later that day, I may have been concerned at this turn of events, but from long experience I knew that a bit of snow was not going to affect flights from Minneapolis/St Paul. Actually, my biggest concern was the prospect of taming my big, powerful, rear-wheel drive Dodge Charger on the slick pavement (how American have I become?)

The dining room was much busier as a new working week began, and club staff fussed over me and told me that they had only heard very positive reactions to the shows. I had a good breakfast, including a bowl of hot, creamy porridge, which seemed like a good idea with such an arctic scene outside the window, followed by eggs and bacon, with a couple of slices of toast.

As my flight was not until 5.15 in the afternoon, I had plenty of time to kill, so I packed slowly, making sure that I had retrieved every item of clothing from every draw and wardrobe.

Having checked and re-checked that I had not left anything that I didn’t need in the room, I left the club at 11 and loaded up the car. I guided it onto the road very gingerly, and sure enough at the first green light as I squeezed the accelerator pedal, the rear of the car squirmed and slid around before the big fat tyres finally found some purchase and moved me forward. I also concentrated on leaving a big gap to the cars in front to give me ample space to brake without sliding ignominiously into them. It was a pleasure to be on the road among others who understood how to drive in the wintery conditions, but of course the Minnesotans have to put up with it for 6 months of the year, so it is just a fact of everyday life for them.

I had decided to go and walk somewhere and chose the intriguingly named ‘Hidden Creek Falls Park’. I found a parking space and walked through the snow to what appeared to be a picnic area at the centre of the park.

There were no signs to the hidden falls, well I suppose there wouldn’t be, would there, so I set off along what looked like a path through the thick woods.

I at least new that I would not get lost, for my tracks in the snow were the only ones there, so I could always follow my route back to the starting point, Hansel and Grettel style.

Eventually I reached a perimeter fence but of a creek, or falls, there was no sign, so I made my way back to the picnic area and struck off down a different path which this time proved more successful, leading me to a part frozen, part flowing stream and eventually to the site of the falls which, I have to say, were a bit disappointing. Maybe if I had visited when the stream was in full flood it would have been more impressive, but as it was the trickle of water fell off a concrete, graffiti-covered wall. Some pretty icicles had formed, but it was all a bit of an anti-climax. Even more so when I found a flight of steps which took me right back to the car park – my adventurous treks through the wood had been a bit pointless, although quite exciting and fun.

By now it was getting on towards 1 o’clock so I decided to make my way to the airport which was very close (I had heard the sound of jets taking off in the thick cloud). although it really was still very early to check in. I settled into the Charger again and slid in a rather nice broadside manoeuvre out of the carpark and asked Google Maps to find me a petrol station where I could top the tank up before returning it to Hertz.

The check-in at the airport was quick and easy and I had plenty of time to have some lunch before perusing the various shops in the impressive terminal, and eventually going to my gate. As boarding time came closer it became apparent that this would not be a full flight, and indeed when we were called to board it seemed while First and Business classes were quite busy, economy was practically empty – the few of us back there had so much room to spread out in.

We pushed back from the gate at precisely 5.15, but our actual departure was delayed due to the requirement to have the plane de-iced. We taxied out to a remote corner of the airfield and there two praying mantis-like vehicles emerged from the darkness and coated the craft in a green gunk.

The Airbus being deemed safe to fly we sat at the end of the runway, throttles were opened, and I started my journey home. In a little over two weeks I will be back again, this time to Boston, and the main bulk of my American tour. But I must say a huge thank you to everyone in Kansas City, Omaha, Burlington and Minneapolis who have made this stay so enjoyable and so successful.

Return to Minneapolis

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Bill Bryson, Brit's Pub, Charles Dickens, Dodge Charger, Downton Abbey, Ebenezer Scrooge, Hertz Car Rental, Highclere Castle, Notes from a Big Country, Philadelphia, Steve McQueen, The Minneapolis Club

Friday would be another day of travel, as I made my way back from the East coast to the Midwest once more, and to my final destination of this part of the tour: Minneapolis.

Having had a coffee and completed Wordle, I opened the curtains to find that the skies were grey and depositing copious amounts of rain onto the ground, as the storm that had been promised for days made its way up from the south.

I had my breakfast in the lobby of the hotel, and then returned to my room to re-pack my case, which thanks to my diligence the day before was an easy job, just stuffing pairs of socks into my top hot and wrapping the thick scarf around the outside, so that it didn’t get crushed, and slipping it back into the space from which it had been lifted 24 hours before. I once again packed both of my costumes into the little roller bag and was ready to get on the road once more.

Before I set out on my journey, I spent some time connecting my phone to the car’s audio system, and was delighted to discover that on this model of Malibu my phone’s display would be shown on the large screen, meaning that navigation into Philadelphia would be much easier than it had been two days before when I had been trying to prop my phone up near to the gear shift, and hoping it wouldn’t fall onto the floor every time I took a curve. I was accompanied on my journey by the first practice session from the Brazilian Grand Prix, and also the audio book that I am currently listing to, Bill Bryson’s ‘Notes From a Big Country’. The journey took me onto I295, and along the route were ‘witty’ signs displayed on overhead gantries, designed presumably to attract the notice of drivers who had become blind to more traditional warnings: ‘SLOW DOWN. THIS AINT THUNDER ROAD’, ‘DONT BOOZE AND CRUISE’ and ‘BE A DEER, LOOK AFTER WILDLIFE’. All very laudable, but what if I had been looking up at the sign and chuckling to myself just as a deer ran out in front of me, meaning I didn’t have time to react?

After thirty minutes or so I was arriving on the outskirts of Philadelphia, and through the murk I could just about see the shadowy outline of the city skyline, bringing to mind Charles Dickens’ description in A Christmas Carol, ‘…and the houses opposite were mere phantoms.’ I skirted the spectral city and was soon pulling up at the Hertz Car Rental drop off. The wait for a shuttle bus was a long one, and by the time it arrived there was a quite a crowd wanting to board. A large crowd at the car rental office inevitably means a large crowd in the terminal, and I was glad that I had left plenty of time, for I was resigned to standing in line for a long time at security. Actually, my flight was departing from Terminal F, a much smaller satellite terminal, where the tiny planes that don’t require jetways depart from, so the queues were not too long. It was 12.15 when I cleared security and as the flight would be over three hours, I thought it would be good to get some lunch, so sat down to a burger and fries, before finding gate F14 (at least I hoped that was the gate number and not the plane we would be flying in) and sitting down with my fellow passengers until we were called to board. It was a very full flight, and we were all packed into to our little sardine can. As we taxied to the runway the rain lashed down ever harder outside and the captain warned us that it would be bumpy ride until we reached our cruising altitude above the clouds – and he was right. Once the wheels left the ground we bumped and tipped and dropped and soared in a way to remind a nervous passenger, and even a less nervous one, how very fragile an aircraft is when faced with the might of nature.

Being back on an American Airlines flight I was hoping that I may be able to find Ford v Ferrari again on the entertainment system so that I could finish it, but the choices had changed, or perhaps are just different on the smaller planes, so instead I watched the sheer tosh that is the second Downton Abbey film. It really is very silly, but it was lovely to see Highclere Castle, and to know that I will be performing there again in little over a month’s time.

Eventually we began our descent into Minneapolis/St Paul airport and touched down in a region I know very well and feel very at home in. Over two years I performed in the play ‘To Begin With’ in Minneapolis and lived in two apartment blocks throughout the rehearsal periods and the runs, meaning that I walked to grocery stores, strolled in the parks, went to the Art Museum, had Sunday breakfast in a little diner, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. One year Liz stayed with me, and on another occasion my brother Ian came and took some amazing production photographs of me playing Charles Dickens, complete with a specially made wig, (the wig was for me, by the way, not for Ian!) They were happy days, and it was great to be back.

I found my way to the Hertz garage and discovered that on this occasion I was allowed to choose my car from ‘The President’s Circle’ aisle, rather that the Gold member’s one, and this gave me a fantastic choice – I could have selected another convertible Mustang, like the one I had driven in September, but a convertible in a Minnesota November didn’t seem suitable, and in the end I decided to channel my inner Steve McQueen and slipped into the driver’s seat of a black Dodge Charger, which trembled and shook as I started the large engine.

The drive into the centre if the city took about 30 minutes, and the traffic was heavy, but there were occasions when I could accelerate hard, and the beast just leaped forward with a magnificent surge of acceleration which brought a big smile to my face.

My destination was the very exclusive Minneapolis Club in the heart of the city, where I will be performing on Saturday and Sunday. A few years ago, I performed in The Aster Cafe in the city, which was owned by a fine Pickwickian named Jeff Arundel, and Jeff is now the Managing Director of the club and was keen to have me preform in the sumptuous wood panelled elegance of the old building (the club was formed in 1907). Not only would I be performing at the club, but I was fortunate enough to be staying there as well. I gently guided the Charger into the club’s parking garage, and in no time was checked in and taking the elevator to the 4th floor. The Elevator itself, and I use the American term because it seemed such an American style, was tiny, with just room for my cases and me, and had a large rotary handle that, in former days, an attendant would have operated on behalf of the members and their guests.

When I had settled into my room, which was spacious and very well appointed, I drew a bath and luxuriated using some of the hand-made soap that had been given me back in Kansas City, and just felt a little bit spoiled and pampered. At seven o’clock I went out to dinner. Rather than availing myself of the club’s restaurant, I wanted to return to a regular haunt during my ‘To Begin With’ years, and that was to Brit’s Pub. I found walked the few blocks through the city and was delighted to discover that my navigational skills had not deserted me. Brit’s was bustling and busy, but I was shown to a seat in the upstairs room, and admired the portraits of the Queen, Churchill, various football teams and numerous Union Jacks, flags of St George, the Welsh and Scottish flags and plenty of other memorabilia. As a nod to home, I chose a Shepherd’s Pie, which was delicious.

It wasn’t late when I walked back to the club, perhaps 8.30, and the city’s buildings looked magnificent lit up against the night sky. It was cold, but not truly Minneapolis-cold. When I was here before it was February, and the temperatures were so far below zero as to make my beard freeze!

In the dark of the night, the old building nestled beneath the surrounding skyscrapers, bringing to mind another passage from A Christmas Carol, when Dickens describes Scrooge’s home: ‘He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and forgotten the way out again.’

I returned to my room and spent the rest of the evening watching television, before falling asleep. On Saturday I have the larger part of the day to myself, so will have the opportunity to indulge in some more nostalgia in Minneapolis.

A Long Day Off

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Applebees, Boeing 737, Charles Dickens, Charlotte NC, Ebenezer Scrooge, Ford V Ferrari, Hertz Car Rental, Hilton Garden Inn, Old Forge NY, Philadelphia, Stanley Tucci, The Damned United, Wilson Arizona

Wednesday marked my first day off since I arrived in America, although it would be fully taken up with travelling from the Midwest to the East coast. I woke very early, I mean VERY early for some reason, but used the morning to get back to Wordle, which I had not played for a few days, and had a very satisfying result of three, and then got to work on writing my blog post.

My flight was not actually until 1.50, so I had plenty of time throughout the morning to get packed and ready. Over the last few days of performing I had amassed a very large amount of laundry, so after breakfast I went to the hotel’s front desk to get enough quarters to pay for two loads of washing and drying. The lady at the desk looked in her cash register and when we had finished the transaction, the Element Hotel, Mid Town Crossing, had only 75c of quarters left, whilst I had a jingling, jangling bag of booty.

When I had flown from Heathrow a week before my large suitcase had been perilously close to the weight limit, so I decided to try and back both of my costumes (the frockcoats and trousers are made from quite thick material and therefore are heavy) into my carry-on roller case, and sure enough I managed to squeeze them all in. I watched TV (avoiding anything political, as it was the day of the Midterm elections and passions were running hot) until the cycles of washing and drying were complete. I carefully folded all 10 of my costume shirts and packed the main case, which was still heavy (note to self, be more careful when packing for the second leg of my trip later this month) and closed everything up.

I checked out at around 11.15, meaning I had plenty of time to fill my car with petrol, get to the car rental return and into the terminal and still allow the recommended 2-hour window before my departure. Before I left, I remembered to leave the radio microphone pack, that I had inadvertently ‘stolen’ from the Westside High School the day before, in an envelope at reception.

The drive to Eppley Field Airport is a very short one, and I relished it for I had greatly enjoyed my time in the Venza and will miss it. I stopped at a gas station on the way to fill up, and had the usual battle in working out how to open the filler cap in an unfamiliar car. After sitting at the pump for a while looking through the owner’s manual, I finally found a little button low down on the left, about the level of my shin – there would certainly be no possibility of accidentally opening it, which is why, I presume, it is so carefully hidden away.

When I put my credit card into the pump it came up with a message that they couldn’t currently process remote card payments and I would have to go into the shop and pay there before filling the tank (this is one of the biggest differences between America and Britain that I come across: in England a driver is trusted enough to be permitted to pay for their fuel after they have filled their tank, rather than having to prepay). At the counter I had to guess how much fuel I was going to need, and I had no idea. Gas prices have been fluctuating wildly across the globe in recent months, and I wasn’t really sure if they are very expensive or back to normal in America at the moment. I also knew that the Venza would need half a tank, but what did that mean? I made a very random guess of $20, and the girl assured me that if I didn’t reach that amount, then the balance would be returned to the card. When the pump clunked to a stop, I had actually put a little over $17 in, so my estimate had been a pretty good one.

At the Enterprise rental car drop-off, I bade farewell to my trusty steed, that had actually spent most of its time with me stationary in parking lots, thanks to the generosity of Kimberly in Missouri and Frank in Nebraska, and I hauled my luggage to the terminal where I grabbed a bite of lunch, before clearing security and waiting at my gate. It was obviously going to be a very busy flight, and sure enough an announcement was made asking if anyone would like to check their carry-on baggage to free up space in the cabin. I did so, and immediately regretted it, as all of my costumes where in that bag – metaphoric eggs in a metaphoric basket, indeed.

When we were called to board, I had a wave of happy nostalgia come over me, as the plane was a Boeing 737. OK, I know this sounds silly, and one aeroplane cabin looks very like another, but when I started touring back in the 1990s the 737 was the staple workhorse of every airline, and I spent so much time in them, quite often flying in costume. Over the years Airbus have supplied many of the carriers, but today I could wallow in memories. One remarkable development in air travel over recent years is the ability to access an airlines database of movies on your phone or tablet, and as I settled into my seat, I perused the choices on offer before selecting ‘The Damned United’, the story of English football manager Brian Clough’s disastrous period in charge of the Leeds United soccer team in 1974 – he only lasted in the post for 44 days, coincidentally the same time that our last Prime Minister survived in her job before being forced to retire. Brian Clough would go on to great success later in his career, winning the European Cup twice with Nottingham Forest: somehow, I don’t foresee such heady heights for Liz Truss, certainly not in Europe…

My journey from Omaha to Philadelphia was made via Charlotte, North Carolina, which seemed to be a somewhat circuitous route, but when you are blasting through the air at 35,000 feet, geography does not mean much. The view out of the window was truly beautiful as we made our way over either the Nantahala or Pisgah National Forest, a setting sun casting a rich golden glow over the gentle wooded contours below and creating shadows that gave the terrain the look of the swelling waves on an ocean

My film finished as we approached Charlotte, and I spent the rest of the flight watching a travel programme featuring Stanley Tucci exploring the culinary delights of Rome. During this time the purser on the flight announced the wonderful rewards that would come my way if I signed up for a certain credit card, after which the cabin crew made their way up the aisle with leaflets complete with an application form – does anybody, has anybody, ever taken one of those forms on a flight, and applied? It seems a very archaic method of marketing, and I would be fascinated to know if it actually bears fruit for the financial institution involved, or for the airline.

We landed at Charlotte airport a little early, and there was a crazy rush to get off, as obviously some other passengers had a very tight connection time. I was able to relax and hold back as I had an hour in hand, and thanks to the America Airlines app I could see that my departure gate was in the same terminal as we were arriving at, which gave me a great sense of peace. I ambled off the plane and made my way from gate B5 to B 15 where there was a huge crowd waiting to board, Actually the large group was made up of passengers for three flights, one to Richmond, Virginia, one for Philly (mine) and one for Vegas. I made sure that I was in the correct mass of humanity, lest I should be erroneously whisked away to Nevada. I might have fun there, but my luggage would be in Philadelphia – to paraphrase the famous saying, ‘what arrives in Philadelphia stays in Philadelphia’.

The next flight, which would take me back North again was very busy, and the boarding process took a long time. As I stood in the aisle waiting to get back to seat A24, the captain came over the intercom in a somewhat agitate fashion ‘ ‘Hey guys, lets hurry this process up, we have a hurricane coming up from the South and we need to get this thing outta here and out run it! I think he fancied himself as starring in a 2nd World War adventure movie, although passengers did begin to take their seats with a renewed sense of urgency.

For my second movie choice I watched Ford Vs Ferrari, but the flight was not long enough to finish it, which was a shame. Philadelphia airport was its usual bustling self. I waited at baggage carousel 12, where a screen told me that the luggage from the Charlotte flight would be delivered, but for a long while nothing came, until I noticed a passenger that I recognised pulling his luggage from a different location. I asked him if he had indeed been on the Charlotte flight, and he replied that yes and the baggage was on carousel 10. I made my way there and looked at the screen, which told me that bags from flights arriving from Phoenix, Las Vegas, Dallas and Los Angeles would be delivered there: no mention of Charlotte, but sure enough there were my two cases making their languid way round and round. I collected them, and walked back up to carousel 12 and told the scattering of miserable folk who were forlornly still waiting for their bags that maybe they should try number 10 instead, and off they ran with a renewed sense of hope.

To get to the car rental garages at Philly you have to wait outside baggage reclaim next to a road, and wave down a courtesy bus for your particular company. Unfortunately, as I arrived at the curb, I saw a Hertz bus disappearing around the corner and so had to wait for quite a while, until another one appeared.

Over the last few years Bob Byers had set me up as Gold member with Hertz which gives me the great privilege of avoiding the lines at the counter and just going straight to a certain area of the garage and choosing my own car. Usually, I go for an SUV, but on this occasion, I spied a rather sleek looking Cheverolet Malibu, and loaded my bags into that and set off for the 40-minute drive to my hotel in the township of Mount Holly. It was almost 9 o’clock when I arrived, so I diverted to an Applebee’s restaurant which was near to the hotel, and had a supper of fish and chips. My accent attracted some attention and soon people were asking where I was from and on my reply of England, one guy said ‘Yep, I thought so! I thought either England or Australia, but you weren’t rude enough to come from Australia, so I figured it must be England!’ The conversation then turned to what I was doing here, and when it was discovered that I performed A Christmas Carol people started suggesting other towns where I should perform, most specifically one in Williams Arizona and another in Old Forge New York, both of which feature railroad journeys after the fashion of The Polar Express. The New York venue is in the heart of the Adirondack mountains, which feature as the setting of the James Bond novel, The Spy Who Loved Me, so it would be fun to go there.

When my dinner was finished, I made the short drive to my hotel, another Hilton Garden Inn, and soon was in my room. I unpacked my squashed-up costumes, so that some of the creases would have a chance to hang out overnight, and then gratefully let sleep take me after what had been a very long day off.

A Long Day, Indeed.

Tags

9-11, A Christmas Carol, Adam West, Alan Napier, Batman, Byers'Choice, Charles Dickens, Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biogrpahy of a Rail Crash, Doctor Marigold, Hertz Car Rental, Jacksonville Airport, Jekyll Island Club Resort Hotel, Local Hero, Queen Elizabeth II, Scotland, The Signalman

Friday night wasn’t very long for me, but even so I managed to injure myself during it. I woke somewhere around 1am and made my way through the dark to the bathroom. It was as I returned to the bed that I tripped over my suitcase, let open ready to pack in the early hours. As I fell forward I was vaguely aware that the wooden bed was close and stuck my hands out to break my fall but in doing so I scraped my right wrist along the sharp edge of the case, leaving a nasty graze.

I got back to bed and fell asleep. The next thing I knew alarms were bleeping and chiming and it was time to get up. I made a cup of coffee and quickly showered before packing my wash bag and closing up my guillotine suitcase. I left the room at 3.30 and made my way along a series of wooden walkways and was amazed to see a couple sat at a table talking, they said a polite ‘good morning’, as if chatting to fellow guests at 3.30 in the morning was the most natural thing in the world.

The drive back to Jacksonville airport was just over an hour, so my phone’s navigation app told me, and I drove through the darkness and duly arrived at 4.30. I drove to the Hertz rental return and then walked into the terminal where I was amazed how busy it was. I joined a queue for the United airlines bag drop and then made my way through security and arrived at my gate with 15 minutes before boarding was due to commence. I grabbed a little pot of yoghurt, a bottle of orange juice and a cinnamon roll and had a very quick ‘breakfast’ before being called to board.

I also studied my injury which was looking quite livid and raw. The shape of the wound looked rather like a collection of islands in an Australasian archipelago, and was feeling a little sore, I could also feel a scrape on my shin, where first I tripped and also an ache on my upper lip, where I banged my face – not bad work for a 4-hour night!

The flight took off in darkness and I dozed a little, but when the coffee service came round I was awake for good, so opened the United Airlines app and watched Local Hero, which made me have thoughts of longing to be back in the Highlands of Scotland again.

The sun had risen during the flight and it felt as if it should be around 10 or 11 in the morning, in fact it was a little before 8am. As I waited at the carousel in baggage claim I was greeted by the cheery face and hug of Pam Byers who had driven out to pick me up. My home for the next few days would be the Byers’ cabin overlooking the Delaware river and having loaded my bags into her little white Golf GT we set off for the beautiful remote spot in the woods. We had a couple of hours during which I could just catch my breath a little, and I showered again to wake me up, before we had to set off to the Byers’ Choice headquarters where I was due to perform that afternoon. On the way Pam stopped at a WaWa petrol station and I grabbed a sandwich, some fruit and some crisps for a brief lunch, and then on to the building that is so familiar to me – my office in the USA. Whenever I come to Chalfont I feel so much apart of the Byers’ Choice team, it is a very special place to be.

As with all of the shows on this mini-tour the audience was going to be smaller than those for A Christmas Carol, so the team had taken the decision to build a more intimate theatre in the cafeteria space rather than in the cavernous manufacturing room. I said hello to David Daikeler, who looks after all of my technical requirements at Byers’ and then to Jeff and finally to Bob Byers. They had done a fantastic job in building the theatre, and the stage not only had the furniture for The Signalman’s hut, but also a magnificent red danger light built by Dave specifically for this occasion. At each side of the stage were a couple of antique carts which set the scene for Doctor Marigold. David had hung a series of theatre lights, and would be able to control the various lighting effects that I use in theatres at home.

We were also experimenting with something new – a sound effect. In The Signalman the narrative talks about the wind whistling through the deep railway cutting, indeed it almost becomes part of the haunting itself. For a few years I have thought about using sound, sparingly and subtly, and I had decided that the Byers’ Choice performance, with Dave at the rudder, would be the perfect time to try it out. Over the previous weeks I had spent many hours, becoming rather obsessed with the project, listening to various wind sound effects, some were too stormy, others too calm, some too sci-fi and others too artificial, but eventually I found one that fitted the bill. Now, it was my first chance to see how it sounded, and I began a run through of the script as Dave played around with sound levels. My suggestion had been that I wanted to audience to feel cold and uneasy without actually knowing why, so the effect should be very much used as an ambient sound, rather than being too intrusive. It sounded perfect.

Having finished our technical rehearsals I went to the large conference room that doubles as my dressing room on such occasions, and ate my lunch before signing 30 copies of ‘Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biography of a Rail Crash’, which would be sold at the performance. Back in the theatre the audience were arriving and I changed into costume ready to start the show at 3 0’clock, twelve hours after I woke up.

There was a good audience in the room and once we were sure that nobody else was going to arrive, Bob turned off the lights and we made our way towards the stage. Bob is always superb at welcoming the audience to the shows, but on this occasion he completely caught me off guard, by sombrely offering his condolences to me and my country, before calling the audience to observe a moment’s silence in memory of and in tribute to The Queen. I stood with my head bowed and had to wipe away a tear or two before stepping up to the stage. I have been amazed and deeply touched by the response of America during these days, with all flags flying at half mast, and this in a week of such commemoration and sorry in their own country as they remember the horrors of 9-11.

On the stage I thanked the audience and then, as Marigold likes to say, had to ‘thoroughly shake myself together’ to get the show going. I talked about Staplehurst, remembering to shameless plug my book (by the way, it is available on Amazon), before I was ready to place my left arm over my face and cry out ‘Halloa! Below there!’ Oh it was intense and dark and wonderful. The sound effect worked very well, and certainly added a chill to the atmosphere, whilst the various lighting effects were expertly conducted by Dave at his tech console. When I finished the show and had taken my bows I left the room to quickly change costumes, and in my wake Bob, his son George and Dave reset the stage ready for Doctor Marigold.

I returned to the theatre and when everyone was in their seats I took to the stage once more and introduced the audience to Doctor Marigold. I was beginning to feel tired by now and there were a few fumbles in lines, but the story of the cheapjack was wonderfully received by the audience, and the gasp at the end of the performance (which Dickens’s manager George Dolby remarked on in his memoir of the reading tours) was as loud and heartfelt as ever with a few hands going up to a few tear-filled eyes. 157 years after Doctor Marigold first appeared, the effect is still the same.

The applause was long and I took a number of bows, before opening the floor to questions. At most Q&A sessions I can be fairly certain of the questions that will be asked, but the first one on Saturday was definitely a first, nobody has ever asked me this before: ‘Is it true that the actor who played Alfred in Batman is related to you?’ Yes! it is! In the 1960’s series featuring Adam West as Batman and Burt Ward as Robin, the loyal butler Alfred was played by Alan Napier, an English actor who in 1944 married Aileen Hawksley a direct descendant of Charles Dickens through his son Henry, the same line as myself. I remember as a child looking at our family tree and being much more excited about having a relative (albeit through marriage) who was in Batman than I was about being related to a Victorian author!

Another question also moved me to silence but for a completely different reason, I was asked ‘how do you pack?’, the point of the question being do I travel with all of the props and furniture, and how on earth do I manage that. But in a moment of confusion I sort of thought that I was in Boston or New Hampshire and to my mind he was asking with a broad New England accent ‘how do you park?’ It seemed an odd question to ask and I floundered around for a while wondering how to answer. Eventually I realised my error and explained that individual venues provide the furniture and I travel as lightly as I could! I must blame my confusion on the 3 o’clock start to my day!

I kept on taking more questions and answering as fully as I could, until Bob came up onto the stage and rescued me from myself.

Back in the conference room I changed back into my regular clothes and when I had collected everything up Pam and Bob took me out for an early supper before heading back to the cabin where I was asleep by about 8.30 pm. It had been a long day, indeed.

Escalate or Elevate

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Beechwood Hotel, Boston, British Airways, Charles Dickens, Disney, Ebenezer Scrooge, Hertz Car Rental, Hetahrow Airport, Nissan, Vaillancourt Folk Art

After two shows at opposite ends of Great Britain, and less than a day at home, Friday saw me resume my United States tour as I prepared to fly from London to Boston.

My alarm was set for 6am, but I woke an hour earlier than that remembering that I hadn’t packed or updated my SatNav unit. Of course, such a trifling matter was completely unimportant – I could pack it before I was due to leave at 8, and even if I didn’t, I would have my phone to assist me along the way, but in those dark, early hours, everything takes on levels of global importance.  As soon as I got up I found the small, and rather old, unit in a drawer and packed it into my case, the updating would have to be done at the airport.

Goodbyes are always difficult and this one was no different albeit wrapped up and foreshortened by the complications of getting the children dressed and out of the door ready for school. My taxi arrived on the stroke of 8 and soon I was on the way to Heathrow airport, as I had been 3 weeks previously – this was almost turning into a commute. 

The journey was flawless which was perhaps surprising during a Friday morning rush hour, and I checked in and cleared security at Heathrow Airport with very little delay, leaving me with over an hour to check the navigation unit. I logged on and sure enough the American map needed updating. Having purchased the upgrade and set the download to begin I discovered that apparently the USA has grown in the last 2 years for the new map was too large to fit onto the little device. I was given the option to select a portion of the country, and as this trip is going to focus entirely on the North East corridor, that suited me just fine.  As the updated content downloaded so my flight flashed up on the screens confirming that it would departing from gate B36, and I should make my way there.  The B gates at Heathrow Terminal 5 are separated from the main building, and to get to them you have to descend the longest escalator you have ever seen, board a shuttle train and then rise to ground level once more.  The train was extremely busy and as the crowd was disgorged, we all made for the escalator that would take us up again. There were lifts available, but everyone avoided them, presumably not wanting to be squashed into such a confined space in these Covid days, meaning that instead we were all squashed together on the escalator whilst the elevators remained empty, and therefore much safer: the apparently more risky alternative had proved itself to be the sensible option: to escalate or elevate?

At the gate I took a seat and waited for the boarding to begin, and sure enough soon a recorded female voice informed us that she invited Group 1 to board. A few expensive suits with their brief cases ambled through the priority lane but the bulk of the crowd remain unmoved, until the same voice came over the PA for a second time and told us that Group 6 was now being invited.  This was a surprise but a large bunch of us stood, gathered our bags and made for the gate, until we realised that the same voice recording was being used for the Chicago flight at the next gate, in fact the flight that I had taken a few weeks before, so we all sat sheepishly down again.

While I was preparing to board I had a message from Liz at home that will appeal to all who laugh at Mrs Cratchit’s panic-stricken antics with her Christmas pudding. Last year Liz made two puddings, one of which we steamed and ate as part of our Chritsmas lunch whilst the other remained sealed in the cool dark cupboard, where it had been ever since Liz mad made the mixture sometime in the autumn of 2020. Yesterday Liz decided to investigate to see if we would be able to eat it on Christmas day this year and to her dismay found that the entire thing had grown an outer fur of blue mould – ‘Supposin’…..supposin’…..’

Back at the gate Groups 2, 3, 4 and 5 were called and at last when ‘our’ group 6 was called I could take my rightful seat on the starboard side of the plane. 

On the last flight from Heathrow I calculated that we flew pretty well over the top of my home town, but I had been in the wrong side to get a view, so this time I had selected seat K instead of A to see if my hunch was correct.  Although there had been heavy rain and low cloud through the morning, by the time we took off the sky had cleared and I tracked our progress with interest:  There was Windsor Castle (easy to spot), the M4 and Reading. The Thames meandered around beneath us: was that the bridge at Marlowe that was the subject of a painting that used to hang in my parents’ bedroom? And then I could see the Wittenham Clumps, a favourite walking spot for us, the site of the old Didcot Power Station and then yes, there was Abingdon with the river running through it.  I could clearly see the all-weather sports stadium where my daughter goes for her football training, and the ring road around the town. There was the new housing development, and the roundabout at which the ring road intersects The Oxford Road. From there it was easy to see my own neighbourhood and I waved to Liz and the girls, as I had promised that I would.

We soared ever higher into the sky, leaving Oxfordshire behind us, and headed towards Boston. To while away the time, as the British Airways flight attendants diligently served me with a lunch of Lemon Thyme Chicken, I watched Bohemian Rhapsody again and as on the previous two occasions a tear came to my eye during the Live Aid sequence.  Following that I selected Joker, the extremely bleak prequel to the Batman franchise, and after that the joyful Disney film Moana – just to cheer me up a bit, although in fact it sent me to sleep for a while.  When I woke we had just under two hours to go and were making ‘landfall’ over the Gulf of St Lawrence. We began our long slow descent into Boston and as the cloud was very low by the time I could see the land below us we were skimming over the many little islands that lie just off the Massachusetts coast. A little bump, a skip and we were taxiing to our gate, ready to set foot on American soil once more.

For once the lines in the immigration hall were minimal and apart from trying to explain how I alone do 30 different characters in my show, the interview with the agent was not difficult and in no time I was walking towards the carousel to await the arrival of my large blue case, and in one of those rare moments of triumph as I arrived so did my case – perfect timing!

To collect a rental car at Boston airport you have to get on a shuttle bus so before I braved the cold windy and wet weather, I popped into a rest room, before dragging my cases to the curb side and waiting for a bus on route 33. Eventually once arrived and a large group piled in, loading our luggage onto the various racks, and just as we pulled away I discovered that I didn’t have my phone with me – in a horrible moment of clarity I realised that I had left it in the rest room, on a small shelf.

There was nothing to do than to stay on the bus and do the whole lap of the airport again, until I was back at Terminal E, with no great hope of being united with my phone. However the arrivals lounge was very empty, obviously with no other flights having landed since mine, and I hurried back to the rest room, looked at the metal shelf and had my faith in human nature restored, for there lay my phone.

I once more waited for bus 33 and once more was taken to the rental car center, where I was due to pick up a vehicle from Hertz. At the desk I asked for a four wheel drive car, as I will be using this vehicle throughout the trip and there maybe snow and ice along the way. After a little while of computer tapping, the Hertz agent said that she had an All Wheel Drive car, if that was ok? She said it rather apologetically as if she was truly sorry that she didn’t have a 4-wheel drive, only an all wheel drive one, and I confirmed that it would be fine, mentally chastising myself for the lapse in my conversational American language skills.

The paperwork completed I made my way into the garage to discover who would be my friend, protector and companion for the next three weeks and found a rather smart deep metallic red Nissan Rogue. I loaded my cases, set the satnav unit which came to life instantly and informed me that the journey to Worcester would take just under an hour. I sped through the subterranean road system of Boston and then passed Fenway Park on my left before leaving the city behind me. The drive seemed reassuringly familiar and certainly not as if it had been two years before I last made it. The newly downloaded map still requested that I turn the wrong way at the intersection where the hotel sat, and as I have done for so many years, I ignored it and drove to the car park of the Beechwood Hotel.

Having checked in I had a little time to unpack and hang my costumes so that the worst of the travelling wrinkles would be gone by Saturday’s performances, and then had a short rest before meeting up with Gary and Judi Vaillancourt for a ‘welcome home’ dinner. It was lovely to be with my old friends again, and once more it hardly seemed as if it had been two years since last we gathered.

Outside the windows snow began to fall, and it really seemed as if Christmas was coming back to life.