To the North: PIES, Unitarianism and a Palace Stand-In

Tags

Charles Dickens, Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biogrpahy of a Rail Crash, PIES, Preston Playhouse, Staplehurst Rail Crash, The Signalman, Wentworth Woodhouse

On Sunday morning I left my Oxfordshire home at 9am, to drive to the North West of England, specifically to the city of Preston in Lancashire where I was due to perform The Signalman at a matinee and evening show. My venue was to be The Playhouse, a lovely small theatre in the town, and the show was promoted by PIES, a charity which raises money to help feed and educate children in southern Africa, the acronym standing for Partners In Education Swaziland

This was the third appearance for the organisation, and I have gained a loyal following in Preston, having previously performed Mr Dickens is Coming with Doctor Marigold, and A Christmas Carol. My preparations for the trip were less smooth than they might have been for, as regular readers will remember, I had left an important prop for The Signalman in Leeds following my appearance there a few weeks ago, and somehow needed to get it back to appear on the stage in Lancashire. I had originally thought that I would drive to The Leeds Library on the morning of the show and pick the piece up, but understandably the Library does not open on a Sunday. However, Carl, the manager there, offered to meet me somewhere convenient so that we could make the exchange like some seedy contraband deal. This arrangement would mean a very early departure, as I would have to drive for three hours to get to Leeds, meet Carl, and then drive a further 90 minutes to Preston, perform two shows and then drive another 40 minutes to Manchester, the reason for which will become apparent later….

In the week prior to the trip I had an extremely apologetic message from Carol to say that when making our arrangement he had temporarily forgotten that Sunday was his daughter’s 18th birthday and an absence of an hour or so wouldn’t be terribly well thought of within the family circle. For a day or two we toyed with the idea of me going to his area of Leeds, but that would add another hour or so to the journey, and didn’t seem to be a terribly good idea for anyone involved.

The prop in question is a representation of a block signalling console, described in the story as a ‘telegraphic instrument with its dial, face and needle’ I had taken a photograph of a genuine unit at a local railway preservation centre and fixed it to an antique wooden display box. Using two large wooden rods this unit could be slotted into corresponding holes drilled into the top of a clerk’s desk. The unit was far too large for accuracy’s sake, but for a piece of theatrical furniture it has done the job just fine over the last few years. Alongside the signalling unit sits a small wooden box with a brass bell on top of it (again, referenced in the text), and on the Saturday before my show I suddenly had the brainwave of printing a much smaller photograph of the equipment and sticking it to the back of the little wooden box, and using that in lieu of the big wooden box. I contacted Carl and said that I wouldn’t interrupt the birthday celebrations and would instead retrieve the prop from the library itself on Monday morning.

So, without the pressure of driving to Leeds, I set off at 9am with the various pieces of furniture rattling away in the back of the car. It was a beautiful sunny day, and on a Sunday morning the traffic was light, which allowed me to arrive in Preston with plenty of time to spare, indeed enough to stop for a cup of coffee and a lemon drizzle muffin at a nearby motorway service station.

I pulled up outside The Playhouse Theatre at 12.45, having arranged to meet at 1, but the loading doors were already open as a gentleman was busy removing a set from the previous evening’s performance. I went in and was met by a manager at the theatre, and we briefly discussed certain technical requirements for my shows, before the team from PIES arrived. Joe and Karen Comerford first saw me perform in Liverpool a few years ago and got in touch to book me to perform on behalf of the charity. Having exchanged greetings and made suitable enquiries as to how we had all made it through two years of Covid, we all got on with our respective jobs – Joe and Karen setting up the raffle, while I placed all of my furniture on the set and tried to convince a slide projector that it might like to talk to my laptop, sadly in vain.

My show was to be in two acts, the first of which was my talk about the circumstances behind The Staplehurst Rail Crash, and the writing of my book on the subject. I have a short PowerPoint presentation to go with the talk, made up of a few photographs from the book, and it is nice to give the audience something else, other than me, to watch, but on this occasion they would have to put up with my features, as we couldn’t get the projector to co-operate.

The show was due to start at 2 o’clock and a goodly sized audience were already crowding into the bar. The front of house manager asked if we could open the doors, and I retreated down to the dressing rooms in the basement to change into the casually formal combination of trousers, open-necked shirt and jacket, that I wore for my first publicity shot as a writer.

I looked over my notes for the first act talk and panicked as to whether it was actually long enough. I had said to the front of house team that the first act would be around 40 – 45 minutes, but I wasn’t confident. Despite having given this speech on a few previous occasions I am still not comfortable in delivering it, which once again shows my insecurities of speaking as myself, rather than in the fantasy world of one man theatre.

Just before 2 Joe came to find me and together we waited in the wings of the stage until it was time for him to walk onto the stage and introduce me. I walked into the light to generous and welcoming applause, and began to speak. The talk concentrates on the circumstances of the terrible crash itself, as well as some of the personalities involved, and is lifted directly from the book which, I pointed out on a number of occasions, would be on sale during the interval and after the show. When I got to the end of the talk, I spoke briefly about the second half and then left the stage with the sound of applause in my ears. I checked my watch: 45 minutes, I needn’t have worried about a thing!

Back in the dressing room I changed into the all-black costume that I favour for The Signalman and waited while the folk upstairs drank, ate and hopefully purchased books!

I was on much firmer ground when I returned to the stage, although of course was unable to deliver my usual introduction to The Signalman, which is a brief description of Staplehurst, having given a long description in the first act, so launched into the story itself quickly. The simple black stage with the few pieces of furniture arranged on it (including the little telegraph unit, making its debut), provided a suitably sparse atmosphere, and my red light shone dimly as a portent of the doom that was to follow.

When the the three distinct acts of the story had played out I took my bows and then returned to the stage to take questions, as I did all of the way through last year’s American tour. I chatted for around twenty minutes and it was great fun, gently batting away the constant requests to make a dramatisation of Hard Times, in which Preston was the model for Coketown. They will grind me down in the end and I will relent, but the thought of trying to achieve an accurate Lancashire accent under such local scrutiny is a nerve-wracking one!

After the show had finished I made my way to the foyer, to chat and sign books, which were selling well. Gradually the audience drifted away and the foyer was quiet once more. Joe and Karen said that they were popping home for a bite to eat and I retreated to my dressing room where I ate a salad am some fruit that I had brought with me, and passed the time by reading a magazine, playing some backgammon on my phone and running through the lines again.

After a while in my subterranean lair I became aware of voices upstairs and went to see who was about, and was surprised to discover that there was quite a gathering of PIES volunteers, including Norman and Lynne who have kindly provided hospitality to me in previous years. They were surprised to see me, for they assumed that I had walked into town, taking advantage of the sunny afternoon. ‘Gerald! We have some food for you’ and a plate loaded with pieces of pork pie, crisps, salad and a hunk of cheese was produced. It would have been rude not to accept the offering, and my salad had been a small one, so I sat down and tucked in to all but the cheese (dairy products effect the throat, and I avoid them on performance days). Soon the second audience began to arrive and it was time to repeat the earlier process.

The first act went well, and prior to the second commencing Norman went onto stage and said a few words about PIES. The fundraising work that the group undertake helps children in Swaziland, and he pointed out that the money raised from the day’s events would feed 40 children for an entire year, which is quite a thought. Norman then went on to announce the winning raffle tickets: ‘the first is a blue ticket, 34, then another blue ticket, 107, yet another blue, 63. A yellow ticket, 73, and another yellow 137, blue 89 and another blue 43….’ and so it went on. From the wings it dawned on me that all of the winning tickets that had been drawn were in the colours of the Ukranian flag, as if somehow we were able to show our support for the extraordinary spirit that the citizens of that nation are displaying in such terrible times.

When Norman had finished I returned to the stage and performed The Signalman once more, and I was particularly pleased with how it went – the piece is in a good place at the moment.

After I had bowed I once again opened the floor for questions and one was about Dickens’s spirituality and by extension his attitude to religion. I told the audience that Charles had a strong faith and followed the teachings of the New Testament, but as far as aligning himself with any particular religion was concerned he had a distrust of anything organised (seeing the human influence as one of potential corruption), so followed his own faith rather than being dictated to by others. I also talked about the little book based on the gospels which he wrote for his children, ‘The Life of our Lord’. I moved onto other questions, and after a while a gentleman in the front row put his hand up and asked ‘I thought Dickens described himself as a Unitarian?’ I picked up from my previous answer and continued to plough my furrow of not trusting organised religion, although, I conceded, he certainly did not dismiss people or organisations that he saw were doing good and would support such groups. The end of my answer was met with a sort of ‘Hmm’ sound. It is amazing how a single syllable can say so much, and this one said ‘you really don’t know what you are talking about, but OK, I will let it drop!’

The incident niggled at me, so when I got home I did a bit of research about Dickens and Unitarianism, and discovered that, in a way, we were both correct. When Charles visited America in 1842 one of the first people he met in Boston was Dr William Ellen Channing, the city’s leading Unitarian preacher and he was very impressed. Other leading Bostonians, including Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, followed Channing, and Dickens become more and more enamoured with the doctrine, which purely followed the teachings of the New Testament without, as he wrote once, forcing the Old Testament ‘into alliance with it’. When he returned to England he began to attend the chapel in London where the first Unitarian congregation had met, and later another chapel presided over by the Reverend Tagart. He was a regular attendee for nearly two years, and even afterwards he would occasionally return to listen to particular sermons. He was not only attracted by the spiritual comfort that the Church offered but also by the passionate stance on the campaign for abolitionism, a cause that was particularly close to his own heart.

I hope the gentleman from the front row is reading this and will accept an apology for my ignorance into this aspect of Dickens’s life. In a way we were both correct, for his was not a life long member of the Church, but it certainly had a major effect on his life at that time.

Back in The Preston Playhouse the question and answer session ended and I returned to the foyer, where there was not much to do, other than chat, for all of my books had sold out during my first show!

Having changed and made sure that I had retrieved everything from the dressing room, I returned to the theatre and discovered that Norman and Joe had moved all of my props and furniture to the loading door, so my get out was much quicker than it might otherwise have been. When the car was full, and I checked carefully that I had everything on this occasion, I said goodbye to Norman, who said that he was sorry I wouldn’t be staying with him and Lynne this year, as he would miss the Full English breakfast that Lynne has traditionally prepared in my honour!

On Sunday night, however, I had to drive to a hotel near Manchester, for I had two meetings in Yorkshire the following morning, and I wanted to break the journey a little. As I drove there was the most remarkable giant amber moon sitting low in the sky, which looked as if it were a special effect from a science fiction film. I reached my hotel at around 10.30 and called my new best friends at Uber Eats for a late night pizza as I gently wound down from a long but successful day.

Monday Morning

On Monday morning I enjoyed a large breakfast and wondered what Norman was eating back in Preston. At 9 o’clock I checked out and headed for Leeds where I was at last reunited with the large box that I had left there, although the little replacement had done an admirable job standing in during the Preston performances.

From Leeds I headed towards Rotherham where I had a meeting at one of the most impressive stately homes in the country. Wentworth Woodhouse is a truly impressive pile, but without the fame and popularity of Chatsworth or Blenheim. The house is undergoing a major restoration project and there are many events taking place to help raise money to that end. The building is also used as a filming venue and has doubled up as Buckingham Palace in various TV dramas and big-budget films

I am due to perform there later in the year and wanted to see the spaces where I would be, and to check acoustics, which can be problematic in some large spaces, and came away very excited at the prospect of returning in July.

As I drove up the long, serpentine driveway, my obligations in the North of England were done and I was soon on the M1 heading home.

A New Venue

Tags

Casino Royale, Charles Dickens, Doctor Marigold, Ian Fleming, Leeds, Leeds Library, Leeds Lit Fest, Myster of Edwin Drood, The Signalman

Throughout my working year most of the venues that I perform at are repeat bookings, meaning that I know who I am going to meet, where I am going to change and how the room feels. The fact that I have so many requests to return is a wonderful compliment, and makes me feel very satisfied about what I am doing. Occasionally, however, I will receive an email out of the blue asking me to visit a new city and organisation and this is always exciting but slightly nerve-wracking. Such a thing occurred last year when I was contacted by The Leeds Literary Festival with a request to appear as part of their 2022 event. In fact they had wanted me two years ago, but the onslaught of Covid put paid to that. We communicated via email and phone until we settled on Wednesday 2 March as a suitable date, and I would perform my double bill of The Signalman and Doctor Marigold in The Leeds Library.

The day dawned grey and rainy and I spent the morning loading the car up with the various props that the two shows require, and it is quite a collection: for The Signalman I have a large clerk’s desk, which is in two parts – stand and top, a small table, a chair and a stool. On top of the desk is a large wooden box with the image of Victorian signalling equipment pasted to the front, representing the ‘telegraphic instrument with its dial, face and needles’ that Dickens describes. There is a large book, a railwayman’s lamp (complete with a battery-operated candle to make it flicker) and a new addition – a theatrical spotlight (or at least, an interior designer’s approximation of one) on a stand to double for the dismal danger light at the mouth of the tunnel which is so important to the telling of the story. For Marigold I have a small set of wooden steps, a stool (a smaller one than that which features in The Signalman), a wooden crate, an anodised pail with a small metal shovel, a kettle and a rolled up blanket. Alongside all of the hardware I had to pack two costumes and of course a box containing copies of ‘Dickens and Staplehurst’ All of this filled pretty well every square inch of a Renault Kadjar and it was with a sense of relief that all of the doors shut successfully.

The drive to Leeds takes about three hours and I left with plenty of time in hand just in case the notorious M1 roadworks should delay me. As it happened my journey was very smooth and I had plenty of time to stop for lunch before arriving in the heart of the city at around 3 o’clock, ready to check in at my hotel, The Plaza Park. Being in the very centre the hotel had no car park, but I was able to leave the car for a few minutes in order to get directions to a large parking garage nearby, from where I could easily walk back. I had an hour in my room, during which I had a shower to freshen myself up before going to the venue.

Even though the Library was only a five minute walk from my hotel, I needed to drive so that I could unload all of the furniture and props ready for the show, but as I made my way to the car I had a phone call from Carl, who had booked me. In our various emails I had mentioned to him that I would arrive at the library at 4, unload and then go to park the car, and he had suddenly realised that he hadn’t told me that there was no vehicular access to the library at all, so I would need to park in another parking garage, where he would meet me and help me unload.

By the time I was finally parked on the second level of the QPark garage it was almost 4.30 and I had agreed to appear on a Leeds Lit Fest live podcast at 5, so other than taking my costumes and a few smaller articles, Carl and I decided to delay the unloading process until later. We took the lift down to the ground level and walked along a typical city centre street, through the bustle of a weekday evening, past a McDonalds and a Starbucks until we arrived at a rather nondescript door, squeezed in between a branch of the CoOp Bank and a Paperchase stationery shop.

A blue plaque on the wall suggested that the may be more to this building than met the passing eye, and Carl pushed the door open and I found myself in a small marble hallway at the bottom of a curling grand staircase, which lead up to an Aladdin’s cave filled with the treasure of books!

The Library was founded, so a small wooden sign informed me, in 1768, but moved to its current location in 1808. At the top of the stairs is ‘The Main Room’ and this is the modern section of the library where up to date novels, audiobooks and DVDs can be found but, even so, it has a wonderfully antiquated feel to it, with an iron spiral staircase at one end and books packed into the shelves from floor to ceiling.

Through a small door between shelves and then I am in the ‘New Room’ which was built 140 years ago. It was in the New Room that I was to perform and I had to pause for a moment to take in the grandeur and splendour of my surroundings. The room was narrow and again the walls from floor to ceiling were lined with books over two stories. Opposite my small stage was a magnificent wooden staircase leading to the upper level and around 70 chairs were laid out in the body of the room, this was going to be a wonderful space to perform in.

For now though, I had to concentrate on the podcast and was shown into the Old Librarian’s Office, which would also become my dressing room.

There waiting to greet me was Molly Magrath, who would be interviewing me, and huddled behind two laptops was Jack who would be looking after all the technical side of the session. We had a few minutes before the broadcast was due to start, so they pulled out some gems from the shelves – a travel book dating back to the 1400s (the author never left England so it was a complete work of fantasy!), and a second edition of The Hobbit. Molly also handed me a beautifully bound first edition of Casino Royale by Ian Fleming and this was a real treasure for a Bond fanatic like me to hold.

5 O’clock came round and without ceremony Molly was talking to the little webcam about my visit, and we had a great conversation about the theatricality of Dickens and how I prepare my shows for the stage. It was a really good interview, not too rigidly bound by questions, just a flowing chat. I had done a little research into Dickens’ visits to Leeds and unfortunately he hadn’t seemed to be too impressed by the City. He first visited in 1847 to give a speech at The Mechanics Institute. The visit was in December and he had a terrible cold, but the experience of Leeds wasn’t a pleasant one. He didn’t return for a further 10 years but his memories still burned brightly, for he wrote home to his sister in law on that second occasion that ‘we shall have, as well as I can make out the complicated list of trains, to sleep at Leeds-which I particularly detest as an odious place-tomorrow night.’ Charming!

He did, however, return to Leeds 3 further times to give readings, and indeed actually performed Doctor Marigold, as I would be doing later on the evening of March 2.

When Molly wrapped the podcast up I went to find Carl and together we walked back to the car park and began the task of shifting all of my stuff back to the library; it took as three trips to get all of the furniture into the lift, down to ground level, past McDonalds and Starbucks, into the front door, up the narrow staircase, through the Main Room and into The New Room. And it was raining!

At last everything was in and I began creating the set for The Signalman. The stage was not large, but there was plenty of room to place the clerk’s desk with the telegraphic instrument and bell atop it, and the stool beneath. I placed the table a little downstage and placed the chair at the back, so that the Signalman, unused to visitors, could grab it, dust the seat off, and place it for the stranger to sit on. Immediately behind the stage was a display case which was the only bit of furniture in the room that was not an antique, and I was able to put my new red light on top of it, meaning that it towered above the scene in a suitably imposing manner. When the first act set was in place I took the opportunity of running through a few lines and as I did another member of the library staff, Ian, busied himself putting programmes on chairs and preparing a makeshift bar for the evening. When I had finished my brief rehearsal Ian introduced himself and asked if I would like to see the basement, an offer that I was delighted to accept. We descended into the bowels of the building where there is a huge collection of very old books, many in a terrible condition. Ian explained that in days of yore the library had been lit by gas jets which had created acidity in the air causing irreparable damage to the leather bindings. The plan is to restore every volume, but at a cost of over a million a shot, that project is a very long term one. I looked along the shelves and there was a first edition of The Mystery of Edwin Drood, Dickens’ final, unfinished, novel. It was such a treat to hold in my hands something that connected me so closely to my great great grandfather. Elsewhere in the basement were racks of periodicals and newspapers just waiting for keen-eyed researchers to discover some wonderful long-lost fact. As we ascended the stairs once more, Ian said wistfully that he never tires of showing off the collection in the basement and that everybody notices something new.

Back upstairs I retired to the Librarian’s Office, my very grand dressing room, and ate a small salad and some fruit before getting into costume for the first act. Outside, the audience gathered and began to take their seats. Ian had told me that this was the largest audience that the New Room had held since the beginning of lockdown. At 7.30 Carl poked his head in and asked if I was ready, and on my replying ‘yes’, he said a few words of introduction and then left the stage to me.

I welcomed the audience, made reference to CD’s rather uncomplimentary words about Leeds, and then launched into a brief description of the circumstances behind the Staplehurst rail crash, vital to both the telling of The Signalman and to the selling of my book at evening’s end. Soon I was into the dark, claustrophobic ghost story and , as ever, I surprised myself by the sheer physicality of what is a very short performance. The emotional intensity of the piece is exhausting and I continually find that by the time I finish every limb is aching from the tension.

On my concluding the story and then announcing the spooky fact that although Dickens was not killed at Staplehurst, he did die exactly 5 years, to the day, after the crash, there was a gasp from the audience, partly in surprise and partly out of relief that they too could relax back into the real world.

Having left the stage and allowed a little time for the audience to drift away, I started clearing the furniture from The Signalman away and setting the stage for Doctor Marigold. In the office I changed into a new costume (long corduroy Victorian-style trousers, rather than the breeches I used to wear), and after twenty minutes or so I returned to the stage to perform my favourite show in the character of the ever resilient and cheerful cheapjack, Doctor Marigold. At one point in the monologue, Marigold describes building a cart with books in ‘rows upon rows’ and so the book-lined walls of the New Room formed the perfect setting for the second half of the story. The audience were rivetted and entranced, as audiences tend to be when witnessing this little gem of a story for the first time.

I finished and left the stage and there was generous and warm Yorkshire applause when I returned to take my bows. Having taken a few minutes to cool down, I made my way back into The Main Room, where I chatted, sold and signed my book, until the audience drifted away into the night.

I changed back into everyday clothes, having briefly donned my black frockcoat again for a couple of photographs that Ian wanted to take on the New Room staircase, and then faced the proposition of taking all of my furniture downstairs, up the street, into the car park, up the lift and back to the car again, however Carl suggested that I actually left everything in the Library, for in the morning the bollards closing off the pedestrianised street would be down, allowing access to the shop fronts for deliveries, and so I would be able to drive to the front door, which would make things much easier.

I walked through the streets of Leeds, back to my hotel and was delighted to discover that they offered a 24 hour room service, so I ordered a plate of fish and chips and let the adrenaline of the evening gently subside, until eventually I fell asleep in the early hours of Thursday morning.

I woke with a start at around 7.40, and decided to get the car loaded before having breakfast, so I quickly showered and retrieved my car, before driving slowly past pedestrians hurrying to work, along the pavement of Commercial Street. Carl and the library caretaker were there to assist and in no time all of my furniture was squeezed into the Renault – actually, we seemed to have hit on an improved system of loading, in that there seemed to be more space than when I had loaded up the day before.

I said farewell to Carl, promising that I would endeavour to find a date for a repeat visit in the winter tour, and returned to the hotel where I enjoyed a hearty full English breakfast before getting on the road for home. The journey was smooth once again and I arrived back in Oxfordshire at midday.

As I unloaded the car I discovered the reason that loading had been so easy, for I had left the ‘telegraphic instrument’ prop in the library. I will next need it for a performance in Preston, Lancashire, at the end of March, so Carl and I will have to work out how to reunite it with the rest of the set, but that is all for another day. For now I could reflect on a wonderful evening, in a beautiful setting, and a new venue for my future tours.

Perfect Preparation? Perhaps Not!

Tags

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr Scrooge, Mr Marley, Mr Cratchit and….Mr Jackson?

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Barbox Brothers, Bob Cratchit, Charles Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge, Fortin Gage Flowers and Gifts, Jacob Marley, Mr Jackson, Mugby Junction, Sky Meadow Country Club, Sweeney Todd, The Signalman

After a couple of quieter days, Thursday saw me back performing twice as I returned to Nashua, New Hampshire for the 11th time. Not only would Mr Ebenezer Scrooge and his colleagues take to the stage once more, but Mr Jackson would also make a return, having been silent since I left Kansas City almost a month ago. ‘Who,’ you ask, ‘is Mr Jackson?’, well, that is a good question, and I shall furnish you with the answer: Mr Jackson is the narrator of The Signlaman. Although he is not actually named in the ghostly tale, readers of the collection of stories known as Mugby Junction (of which the famous ghost story is a part) are introduced to ‘The Traveller’ in the first tale entitled Barbox Brothers.

Thursday morning passed as most mornings do, with plenty of coffee and writing. I was also in email communication with the venue for Friday’s show, confirming various technical and arrival details with them. Having finished my administrative duties, I took the opportunity to rehearse The Signalman a couple of times, until it was time to leave for the theatre.

For the last few years in Nashua it has been a tradition that I perform a lunchtime show in the city’s Senior Center, and these shows have always been great fun, however, in 2021 because the tour was so late being confirmed (thanks to doubts as to whether I would be granted a visa due to Covid travelling restrictions) the center was unavailable, so a new venue had to be found, and the search produced The Court Street Theater. I would still be performing on behalf of The Senior Center and as I arrived the first person I saw was Judy Porter who has always looked after me there. In no time the theatre’s door was opened from within and a young man who introduced himself as Tyler welcomed us into the spacious lobby. While Judy and her colleagues began to settle themselves into the box office, I made straight for the performing space, and what a great space it turned out to be. The ‘stage’ is actually the floor, while the seating rises up on three sides, meaning that the performer is almost surrounded by the audience. It is the sort of space that lends itself to one-man performances and I instantly felt very at home there.

Whilst I was taking in my new surroundings, Jody Gage, of the Fortin Gage Flower and Gift Shop (my Nashua sponsor) arrived, bringing in the various items that are required for the set of The Signalman, specifically a desk and a lantern – and I added to it by finding a couple of old wooden stools in a storeroom (you can find almost anything in a theatre’s storeroom). When I perform in England I also have a small table around which the two characters gather, apparently in front of the fire, as they talk. Jody had sourced a rather elegant round table with a shiny marble top, which to my mind looked too impressive for the rustic signal box, so I reluctantly discarded it, much to Jody’s disappointment, for he had borrowed it from a local antique store and was very proud of it!

On the stage Tyler was checking the sound system with another young man, who was soon introduced to me as also being called Tyler, which made things much easier (I may be good at remembering 90 minutes’ worth of script, but when it comes to names, I am hopeless, so having a single name to cover the entire theatre staff was useful). Having ensured that the microphone was working correctly Tyler #1 fitted the unit over my ears and asked me to run a few lines of the script, including the full vocal range, so I spent a few minutes going through various passages, including the moments of torment as the signalman himself teeters on the edge of insanity. With the sound check completed, and lighting set, I left the stage and started to get changed in the little storeroom where I had found the stools earlier. My costume for The Signalman is my usual frock coat but with a black waistcoat and cravat, and as I would be performing in front of a huge black backdrop, on a black floor, the effect would be particularly menacing. If I had known the theatre before, I would have asked for a stage light on a stand with a red gel in it, shining towards the audience to represent the danger light at the tunnel’s mouth, which features throughout the story, but even without that little embellishment, the atmosphere was perfect.

As the 12.30 start time approached, I emerged from my room and loitered in the lobby, chatting with Sandy who would be making my introduction, and Amber, a member of the Fortin Gage staff, who was helping in the box office. Jody joined us and we all checked our watches, worked out how any latecomers could be directed to their seats in the darkness and then agreed that we were good to ‘go’. I returned to the area behind the stage, while Sandy walked onto it and welcomed the audience and introduced me. Unfortunately, the crowd wasn’t a huge one (due, Jody thought, to continued nervousness about Covid and the lateness of being able to promote the shows), but still they were an enthusiastic bunch and welcomed me warmly.

I began by talking about the circumstances surrounding the Staplehurst crash, not forgetting to shamelessly plug my new book ‘Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biography of a Rail Crash’, and despite there not being copies available at this particular performance, I did remind the audience that the book was available through Amazon, or from my own website, Geralddickens.com (did I say shameless?) But soon it was time for Mr Jackson to tell his story.

The atmosphere built beautifully, although I was slightly distracted by a cufflink that had come loose, meaning that a shirt cuff flapped loosely and annoyingly, but the show was as dark and intense as I had expected it to be in that setting, and built to a superb climax

After I had closed the show with the spooky revelation that Charles Dickens died exactly five years to the very day after he survived The Staplehurst crash, which was greeted with a suitably impressed gasp, I opened the floor up to questions, and once again had an enjoyable time connecting with the audience. After twenty minutes or so of banter, the session came to an end and after taking an extra round of applause I returned to my dressing room.

It was almost two when I left the building and I wanted to get back to the hotel to make contact with home. Sandy had very kindly offered to give me some rice and chicken soup for my lunch, which I could heat up in my room’s microwave, so I followed her to her house where she ladled a goodly portion into a plastic dish, and then I returned to my hotel.

Other than talking to Liz, I spent the afternoon relaxing and resting. Although The Signalman is a very short show, especially when compared to A Christmas Carol, it is a particularly tiring one, because it is so emotionally intense, and I always feel exhausted after performing it, so I needed to regain my energy levels for the evening’s performance.

A Christmas Carol was due to be performed in another new venue to me, The Sky Meadow Country Club. Once again, the lateness of the the tour’s confirmation meant that Jody’s first choice of venue (the college auditoiruim where I had performed in the past), was unavailable, but it was Jody’s ex-wife, Jill, who suggested that the Country Club, where she now works, would be a great setting.

I left the hotel at 5 and stopped to fill up my little Rogue with petrol, before driving to the other side of Nashua where eventually, after a few wrong turnings, I found Sky Meadow sat on top of a hill. It was an impressive venue, actually very similar to The Field Club where I have performed in Omaha, and as soon as I walked in the staff were extremely helpful and welcoming. A ballroom had been set up as the theatre and at one end temporary stage had been erected. There was a chair on it, and a table with a lamp. In no time, Jody appeared with a coat rack, and asked ‘Do you need another table, next to the chair?’ ‘No, the one we already have on stage is fine.’ I thought I was saving him some trouble until he asked me, almost pleaded, if we could use the little circular table with the heavy marble top, that he had found at the antique centre that morning. I of course I agreed.

‘Do we have a stool?’

‘Oh, damn! I forgot the stool! Yes, it’s fine, I will find a stool’ and while I made preparations on the stage, I could hear Jody asking various members of the staff if they had any kind of stool anywhere, and each time I also heard a negative reply. After a while Jody disappeared, and I suspect he drove all the way back into the centre of Nashua to pick up the original one, for later when I came to check the stage for the final time, there was an old rustic wooden stool on the set.

My sound was being operated by Chip, who not only did a sound check but also agreed to run all of my cues. He downloaded them onto his laptop, and I got Jill to print a copy of the script in her office. We didn’t have any time to rehearse the cues but Chip exuded confidence and I had no doubt that he would do a fine job. The only downside to the venue was the lighting, which was either too dim, or very harshly bright. On another occasion some temporary theatre lighting would improve the ambience in the room, but for Thursday evening we had what we had.

My dressing room was the room usually used for Brides to prepare themselves, as Sky Meadow is a popular wedding venue, and prominent in it was a large barber’s chair. I wondered for a moment if I shouldn’t give a performance of Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber or Fleet Street, instead.

Outside I could hear the audience gathering, and I started to get into costume. I was still feeling weary and was a little nervous that somehow I wasn’t going to give a particularly good performance, I didn’t feel in the right mindset, and was having negative thoughts about the whole thing. I opened the door to my room and discreetly watched the audience arrive and there was such a sense of excitement and anticipation in the crowd that I, as dear old Doctor Marigold says, ‘thoroughly shook myself together to do what was right by all’.

Shortly after 7.30 the audience were in their places and Jody stood up on the stage to welcome them all and to introduce me, and I made my slow entrance down the central aisle towards the stage.

Despite my negative feelings, the show went extremely well, and I found energy from the script and from the audience. Soon I was giving one of my strongest and most energetic performances of the tour. Jody’s small round table also made an impact: during Jacob Marley’s scene when Scrooge is taunting him as having ‘more of gravy than grave about you’ I turn and roar and wail, sending Ebenezer flying back into his chair in horror. At this point, at Sky Meadow, the chair slid backwards with my momentum, trapping my fingers between the arm that I was tightly gripping and the heavy marble top of the table, making me wince in agony.

In the end, despite my initial misgivings, it was a wonderful show, a really exciting one, and the audience responded rigorously and loudly.

During the Q&A session we covered the truth behind Mrs Cratchit’s pudding panics, favourite movie versions, direct lineage from CD to me, and a few other topics, but one intersting question came from a lady who admitted to having seen all of my shows in Nashua (as many in the audience had) and pointed out that it has changed over the years, and could I talk about specific decicions I had made to bring about those changes. Some alterantions have just evolved and come to me over time, often during a performance, while others, such as using the red shawl to represent Tiny Tim and to include the scene when Bob Cratchit kisses his son’s face as he lies dead in the little bedroom, where more consciously considered. The major change in recent years has been to the pace of the show – I had got myself to a place where everything was too ponderous – I was trying to find drama and effect in every syllable which slowed the whole thing down. So, I have been making strenuous efforts to bring the pace back. I asked the lady what changes she had noticed over the years, and she said that ‘Topper has become a lot more flirtatious!’

Eventually it was time to end, and as the crowd filed out into the night, I returned to Sweeney Todd’s boudoir and got changed.

I was invited to the bar for a celebratory glass of wine and was introduced to the owner of the club who had loved the show and was very keen to bring me back in the future. However, that tiredness that had been upon me all afternoon was now returning, so I politely said my goodbyes and drove back to the hotel, where I purchased a microwavable Chicken Alfredo from the lobby pantry and had a late-night TV dinner.

It had been a very successful day, and even my squashed fingers weren’t aching too much now!

The Penultimate

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biogrpahy of a Rail Crash, Liberty Performing Arts Theater, LOnghorn Steakhouse, Mid Continent Public Library, The Signalman

The windy stormy weather of Friday had blown through and given way to another bright sunny Saturday morning, albeit with a winter’s chill to the air. My morning routine is now well set and as usual I wrote my blog and some of my touring memories before heading down to the lobby for breakfast (the oatmeal option this time). I was cheerfully greeted by another guest with whom I shared a ride in the lift the day on Friday. When I had told him that I was from England he went into raptures: ‘Oh! I love you guys, God, you know how to protect your history! I love England! I stayed in Wrexham for a while, such a great place!’ (to be pedantic, Wrexham is in Wales, but we will forgive him that). So, at Saturday breakfast he called across the lobby ‘Hey! My British friend, how are you!’ Which was a nice way to be hailed.

Having finished breakfast I went back to my room where another practice session from Brazil was being broadcast and I watched for an hour, which took me to 10. It wasn’t to be such a lazy day for Saturday would see me performing twice, and Kimberly was due to pick me up at 11.45. Alongside watching tv and having another coffee, I prepared my costume for the first show of the day, another performance of The Signalman, so it was the all black ensemble.

At around 11.30 I had a message saying that Kimberly was stuck in traffic so may be a little late but as it happened it wasn’t long after the agreed pick up time that the front desk called me to say my ride was waiting. We were driving to the Midwest Genealogy Center, where I have performed o a few occasions before. The main performance space there is a large room with a stage at one end, it was obvious from the amount of chairs laid out that the library were expecting a good crowd. The auditorium space was under the directorship of Lindsay, who had set theatre lights ready for the show, and undertook a good sound check, playing with the various levels and settings until everything sounded perfect. I was feeling a little hungry, so Kimberly and I drove to a nearby petrol station to buy some sandwiches and fruit, which I ate in my dressing room as the audience began to arrive.

I got into costume, fixing my microphone before butting up my waistcoat and at 1.55 I left the greenroom and stood on a ramp which leads to the stage (hidden from the audience). As the clock ticked further, I reached round for the switch on the mic and clicked it over as Sara, one of Kimberly’s team who I have worked with many times, took to the stage to make the introductions. Once again the excitement of having live events back in the library service was palpable and there were rounds of applause for almost every part of Sara’s opening remarks. Having gone through all of the official stuff and demonstrated her potential prowess as airline cabin crew, indicating all of the emergency exits, Sara welcomed me to the stage and I began. Strangely my microphone didn’t seem to be on, and I asked the audience ‘am I on?’ the answer came back ‘Yes!’ so on I continued, maybe Lindsay had got an absolutely perfect setting. The first part of The Signalman presentation is given over to talking about Staplehurst, and as I was doing that I was aware of the librarians scurrying around a bit, eventually Sara pushed a note onto the stage which read ‘Microphone Off!’, so I had been right, I reached around and clicked the switch again, and sure enough I was properly amplified.

The Signalman itself was very well received and I was pleased with my rendition of it. It is a piece that I perform spasmodically, but this was the third time I have done it on this trip, as well as once in England shortly before travelling, so it had gained a solidity and confidence that perhaps it doesn’t usually have. When I had finished I talked a little bit more about my writing of the Staplehurst book, which gave the library team an opportunity to collect written questions – the hall being too large to effectively take questions from the floor. Once all the slips had been gathered Sara would host the Q&A, and again there were some good questions: ‘Did Charles Dickens hold the Rail company responsible for the crash?’ ‘Did he have any premonition of the crash?’ While I was answering those questions a huge freight train approached rumbled along the tracks which pass next to the building, so I was able to cry Halloa Below there!’ Sara continued to feed me questions: ‘How did I come to be in Kansas City and how did I first hook up with the Library?’ (maybe the subject of a Bonus Blog), and then the inevitable ‘what age did you get into theatre?’ Cue the Rooster anecdote which of course brought huge amounts of laughter to the room. The final question Sara prefaced with ‘Of course you know that we are all foodies in Kansas City and think that our food is the best in the World, so bearing that in mind, where is your favourite city to eat in?’ Slightly loaded question one may feel! I gave a diplomatic answer saying that if I wanted fine beef then there was nowhere better than Kansas City, but for seafood then coastal cities maybe a better choice. I think I got a away with it.

Time was up and I took further bows before returning to the greenroom to change. When I gave the microphone back to Lindsay we discussed what had happened at the start of the show, she has seen me turn the mic pack on when I was changing (she had it muted on the desk, so there was no worry about me being heard), and then noticed that I turned it off again when I was waiting in the wings, so what must have happened was that I accidentally flicked the switch to on as I dressed, and then just before the show when I thought I was turning it on I was actually doing the opposite. I will be back at The Genealogy Center on Sunday, so we will make sure the same doesn’t occur.

Kimberly took me back to the hotel, briefly, so that I could get the costume for A Christmas Caro, including the top hat, cane and the red shawl, and then we drove on to the evening venue – the Liberty Performing Arts Theater where I would be performing in their 650 seat auditorium. It was dark as we drove and for the first time on this trip I saw Christmas lights adorning neighbourhoods, which gave me a warm glow inside! I will be putting up our own lights at home in the gap between my American trips and as I looked at the multi coloured bulbs twinkling, and caught glimpses of trees bedecked with white and golden lights, I really felt that Christmas was on the way.

Walking into the auditorium I could instantly see that it was going to be fun night – the stage was huge and would give me plenty of scope to play with.

Although the auditorium was large it felt remarkably intimate, helped by the stage curving out, as if reaching to the audience. Sara and other members of the team were decorating a small tree which would adorn my set and I thought that would be the perfect place for my daughters’ little mice to hide and watch the show from, so I hid them away among the boughs and baubles.

Far away at the back of the hall was stationed Lyndal in her tech box, and I mounted the steps so that we could discuss sound cues etc, when all of that was finished I descended to stage level again to do a sound check and, as with Lindsay earlier in the day, Lyndal spent plenty of time finding exactly the correct balance before pronouncing herself satisfied.

With the preparations completed I retired to my dressing room, where a wave of tiredness came over me and my body seemed to switch off – no energy. It may seem strange to say, but I wasn’t concerned by this. It is often the case that before a big show (and this was going to be a big show), the body seems to recognise that a huge amount of adrenaline and energy are going to be required shortly so it shuts down slightly, preserving itself. Sometimes in such circumstances I am almost on the point of sleep. I pulled up to chairs and just sat, alone, relaxing. I played a little backgammon on my phone, and waited.

With 30 minutes to go I got into my costume and starting waking myself up. On stage The Dickens Carollers, who are often called in by the library to entertain the audience as they arrive, were singing beautifully to loud rounds of applause: this was going to be a good night I felt. There is something wonderful about the solitude and anticipation of standing in a dark wing space in a theatre, preparing to perform. Even when I used to be in productions with a large cast I would always try to be alone in those final moments.

And then it was time to start. Steve Potter was due to make my introductions. Steve is the Director and CEO of Mid Continent Public Library, so an important man, but I first met him in 1995 when he was a branch manager at Blue Springs South, where one of his team was Kimberly: these two have been part of the system through my entire time performing for Mid Continent and are dear and good friends (Indeed, this year Kimberly celebrated 40 years with the organisation, which is an astounding achievement).

Steve made his introductory remarks and once again the announcement of the recommencement of live programmes brought a loud round of applause. He welcomed me to the stage, the first music cue started and I began my slow walk to Marley’s grave and began. The first clue as to how the evening was going to go would be when I broke the fourth wall for the first time, telling the audience that ‘I dont know what there is particularly dead about a doornail, do you?’ The response to the line was loud laughter and when I asked them to reiterate that Marley was as dead as a….’ the cry of ‘DOORNAIL!’ was enthusiastic and joyful. Yes, this was going to be a great night.

I loved every second of my time on that stage, in that theatre, it was energising, exciting, invigorating, and the audience were along for the ride at every moment. Once more I tried my new trick of velcroing the black frock coat to create the dark spectre, and once again I did it too early – more work needed on that effect, but I will persevere.

The standing ovation at the end was amazing, and I took bows to all sides of the auditorium as they cheered and whooped. I eventually retreated to the wings as Steve took to the stage ready to host the Q&A. The library team had already gathered plenty of questions, and Steve began running through them and we formed quite the double act up there. Some questions were familiar (how did you first start doing A Christmas Carol leading to the anecdote of losing the script in Tennessee), and then there were others such as ‘Where did the name Scrooge come from? ‘In these days of pandemic and isolation is there a parallel to be drawn with Scrooge’s solitude and ultimate reformation?’ ‘What age are you?’, and one from Gwen aged 6, just checking on the validity of my claims to be part of the Dickens family, with the testing ‘What was your grandfather’s name?’ It was fun session and maybe ran longer than it should have, but we were all having such a good time it was lovely to keep going. Eventually Kimberly whispered to Steve that it was time to wrap up and after taking one more round of applause I returned to the dressing room.

I changed and returned to the stage to retrieve the various bits and bobs that belong to me, and I rescued the girls’ mice as the library staff packed away all of the decorations from the tree. Lyndal was on the stage and I thanked her for all of the tech expertise (the cues had all come in at the perfect moment and levels, and had faded out as necessary). She was very excited and saying ‘you guys must come back again, I LOVED this evening!’

Kimberly and I loaded up the car and we drove back to the Longhorn Steakhouse near to my hotel where we met up with Steve for a lovely dinner. We chatted about libraries and communities, and I showed them images of The Word, where I perform in the UK, which they were suitably impressed by. We laughed about Steve’s name (he had touched on this during my answer about Scrooge’s name earlier), saying that for years, until JK Rowling came to his assistance, he had always been known as Mr Potter, the curmudgeonly old banker from Its a Wonderful Life. He said that on becoming Director of Mid Continent Public Library the first email he sent to all of the staff was instructing them to call him Steve and NOT MR POTTER!

It was late now, we were the only ones in the restaurant, except the staff who were sat around in their coats, and the adrenaline that had allowed me to sail on the stage that night was subsiding and exhaustion was returning. It was time to leave,

Sunday 14 November will be my last day of this leg and two more performances of a Christmas Carol will bring it to a close.

Where is Kazakhstan?

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Formula One, House of Games, Mid Continent Public Library, Panera Bread, Richard Osman, The Signalman

Friday would see me back on stage performing once more, which would be good. However the only show of the day was not until 7pm so I had plenty of time to fill. As soon as I woke I could hear that the gentle, warm, almost late summer weather that I have enjoyed throughout the trip had changed. Outside my window I could hear the wind howling and moaning. In a way this was quite apt as my show was to be The Signalman in which Dickens describes the wind making ‘a wild harp’ of the telegraph wires. In my case it was an American flag flying just outside my room that was creating the morning soundtrack as it was tugged against its fixings and rattled and clanged in the gale.

I made myself my morning coffee and sat up in bed writing my blog post, as well as some material for a potential new book about my theatrical career and life on tour, The passage I was working on was of my earliest childhood memories of Christmas so I spent plenty of time wallowing in happy nostalgia!

I wrote until 7 and then went down to the lobby for Breakfast .The Hampton Inn at Liberty has always served one of the most impressive buffet-style breakfasts that I encounter anywhere on tour, and in particular the oatmeal and waffles. After a glass of orange juice I plumped for waffles, purely for tradition and old time’s sake and I was not disappointed. They were delicious.

After grabbing an extra coffee I returned to room, stopping at the front desk to collect a packet of book plates that Kimberly has asked me to sign for the library service, Although Mid Continent have ordered 200 copies of Dickens and Staplehurst, they were not due to arrive during my visit, so the signed bookplates could give people signed copies. There were 200 signatures to do, so I sat at the little desk in the room and began signing. It is amazing how much more quickly one can sign when you don’t have to pick up a book, open it to the correct page, sign, close the book and place it on the ‘done pile’, before reaching for the next book, opening it to the required page…etc etc. I got myself into a good rhythm and worked away until all 200 signatures were complete. Having finished I arranged the sheets of bookplates and a copy of the book for a photograph which the Olympian Publishers may like on their social media feed, and then packed everything away.

My timing was perfect, for I had a few minutes to spare before the first practice session from the Brazilian Grand Prix was being shown live on ESPN, so I settled onto the bed and spent a happy hour watching Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen battle it out on one of the classic, historic race tracks.

When practice finished, I did a little more writing and then decided to spend an hour rehearsing The Signalman and the moaning wind and the flapping flag outside my window gave the run through a much more authentic feel than usual. The Signalman is quite a short presentation, compared to something like A Christmas Carol, the script itself only running at 30 minutes (although my introductory remarks make the actual show a more meaningful length), so the rehearsal run didn’t take up too much time. Once I had finished I picked up the script as there were a few little phrases that I wanted to check on and tweak a little, and when I had practised those it was time for lunch. Once again I walked down to Panera Bread where this time I ordered a Ten Vegetable Soup served in bread bowl. Before committing myself I asked the server if the Ten Vegetable Soup was a broth (on the day of a performance I wanted to avoid anything made with dairy) and I got the helpful reply that ‘It is soup made with vegetables’ Well with that sense of clarity I went ahead with my order! When the soup came it was indeed a broth and it was indeed made with vegetables, I didn’t count them but I imagine that there may have been 10. It was delicious and warming and nourishing.

I had managed my time well for when I got back to my room the official qualifying session from Brazil was just beginning so I resumed my former spectating position and watched as Hamilton beat his rival to pole position. Sadly I will not be able to watch the rest of the weekend’s action due to my shows, but being able to catch Friday’s events was a nice bonus for me.

After Qualifying had finished and ESPN had returned to football I switched off the TV and did another complete run through of The Signalman, just to make sure that those little tweaks had settled into my mind, and then satisfied with how things were I settled down to relax and perhaps nap (my body clock still being all over the place and waking me at silly hours of the morning).

At some point in the afternoon I saw that my brother Ian was online, and as we chatted he mentioned that my favourite round of my favourite TV quiz had been on in the UK the day before. The show is called Richard Osman’s House of Games, and the round in question is ‘Where is Kazakhstan’ in which celebrity contestants are shown a blank map of an area of the World and have to pinpoint various places, however they are not given the names of the places but a question – so they not only have to know the answer to the question but also the location on the map. So, the round that Ian told me about was based on the USA and he thought that I may like to try and play. These were the questions:

Q1. The city in which the title character sits on a bench in Forest Gump.

Q2. Mount Elbert, the highest point in the Rocky Mountains.

Q3. Where is Yale University.

Q4. The major city that completes the title in the 1944 Judy Garland musical ‘Meet me in….’

My answers were as follows:

1: Savannah, Georgia

2: Probably somewhere near Colorado

3: Upstate New York

4: St Louis in Missouri, not far from where I am currently based.

I found a blank map online and placed four points on it as my answer:

I did pretty well, but frustratingly the one I got wrong was Missouri!

Anyway, that passed a pleasant amount of time and it was nice to chat with Ian.

The rest of the afternoon was spent somewhat lazily watching the end of Back to the Future II and the beginning of Back to the Futre III until it was time to prepare for the evening’s show. At 5.30 I showered to re-energise myself and just before 6 I had a call from the front desk telling me that Kimberly was waiting for me.

The evening’s shows was in the Woodneath branch of the MCPL which is only a five minute drive. I have performed at the branch on many occasions and was welcomed back by the staff there like an old friend. For The Signalman I was performing in the Community Room, a large self contained space away from them main Library and at one end a stage had been erected. Kimberly had sourced some material to create the idea of a set, including hand held oil lantern, which would be useful during the Signalman’s description of his repeated hauntings. There was a great sense of excitement and anticipation in the Library as my appearance represented the first in person large event staged by the programming team. In the same way as at the church in Burlington, Friday evening’s show marked a move forward for the organisation and a gradual easing of restrictions.

Not only was I to perform for a live audience, but the event was also being streamed online so that anyone not comfortable sitting with a crowd could watch from home. As well as a normal sound check therefore I had to spend a little time with the filming crew making sure their camera’s (actually i-phones on tripods) were in the correct place and would capture all of the presentation.

The audience started arriving early, as they always do in the KC area and soon the hall was filling up nicely, there were many old friends in the group but I tried to maintain a good distance and kept my mask on until the last moment.

At 7 o’clock the show started and I prefaced The Signalman with an introduction based on the new book (much more accurate than my old intro used to be!) and then launched in to ‘Halloa Below There!’ The Signalman is much more intense and dramatic than A Christmas Carol and there aren’t many laughs to help it along, but the audience were silent during the most dramatic patches and there was suitably stunned gasp when I finished up with the revelation of Dickens’s death being exactly 5 years after Staplehurst.

The show over we then moved onto the Q&A section and after I made a few more remarks about how I actually came to write the book, we opened the floor. There were good questions: How long does it take me to learn a new script, at what age did I first know I wanted to act, what novels would be good to start reading for someone returning to the works of Dickens, does the family feel a duty to preserve Dickens’ legacy, do I perform other works, non Dickensian? It was a fun session, but soon it was time to wind up. I took another bow, replaced my mask and the audience disappeared into the night.

When I had changed Kimberly took me to a nearby grill (a lot of restaurants are closing at 9pm, so choice was a little limited) and I ordered a burger with, bizarrely a fried egg on top – I have never had t make a decision between sunnyside up or over-hard at 9pm before, but that’s what was my final decision of Friday 12 November 2021!

A Triple Header

Tags

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

North by North East

Tags

Dickens and Staplehurst, Gateshead Little Theatre, P&O Cruises, South Shields, Staplehurst, The Signalman, The Word, York

On Sunday morning, Hallowe’en, the winter tour continued to pick up pace as I was due to perform in the far North East of England. The booking marked a return to the magnificent ‘The Word – The National Centre for the Written Word’, and it was a poignant visit as my proposed performance of Great Expectations at the venue was the first show lost to the pandemic back in May 2020. The Word is set in the heart of South Shields, on the banks of the Tyne River and required a drive of around 5 hours to get there. As the show was an afternoon one, with the audience due to arrive at 1.30, it meant an early start.

I had loaded the car the pervious day and my alarm was set at 5.15am (allowing for the fact that the clocks had fallen back an hour over night). As the rest of the house slept I had some breakfast, showered and prepared to leave ready to drive through a rainy, windy, squally morning. A goodbye to Liz and it was time to hit the road. Having set the SatNav I was relieved to notice that the journey time was considerably less than it had intimated the day before, so I would have plenty of time to stop for coffee breaks on the way. I decided to run through the script of The Signalman as I was driving, and as I turned onto the A34 I began: ‘Halloa! Below there!’ But I was interrupted, my flow was destroyed by a very strange sound: ‘slap slap slap slap’. At first I thought it was coming from the props in the back, maybe something was badly stowed and was rattling, but no, it definitely was coming from the front wheel, although the steering felt fine and no warning lights were showing, it was very odd. I continued to drive and got back to the script, but the slap slap slap continued and it was very obvious that something was wrong. I pulled into a petrol station and in the pelting rain investigated the front right tyre of my car. Sure enough part of the tread on the inside shoulder of the tyre had failed, sort of peeled away, exposing the metal bands that form the construction of a tyre. The strip of rubber hadn’t actually come off but was whipping the car body with every revolution of the wheel. The tyre was close to complete and catastrophic failure, and if it happened when I was driving at 70 miles per hour through the driving rain the consequences were too awful to think of. There was nothing for it but to change wheels. A Renault Kadjar only has a space saver wheel, which is much narrower than a standard one, and can only be driven at relatively low speeds, but it would have to do as there would be no tyre centres open at that hour. The other issue was that the spare is stowed under the floor of the boot space, meaning that I had to unload all of my props before being able to get to it.

In the dark and the rain I performed a reasonably fast tyre stop (OK, not quite the 1.9 seconds that the Formula One teams manage, but pretty good nonetheless), loaded up the car again, and set off once more towards South Shields. In one way it was fortunate that the weather was so awful because it kept my speed down which, with the space saver tyre, was necessary. Really the skinny wheel isn’t designed to undertake such a long journey, but on Sunday I had no choice.

The traffic was light and I passed the time by continuing my rehearsal, as well as listening to various podcasts, including a couple of episodes of ‘You’re Dead To Me’, which is a light-hearted look at various historical figures and events. It is hosted by Greg Jenner, one of the team behind the brilliant Horrible Histories series, and each episode runs to a carefully formulated and regulated plan. Two guests, one an expert historian and the other a comedian, banter with Greg over the topic selected. One episode which accompanied me was based on the history of Ivan the Terrible who certainly did justify his terrifying moniker, for some of the details of his later activities were quite eye-watering. At one point during the episode the comedian for Olga Koch, who originates from Russia, was making a gag that involved the use of a passport and it suddenly flashed upon me the literal meaning of the word. It is not a document to travel, but a document to allow you into a foreign country: to allow you to pass through the port. A simple revelation, I know, but one that I rather liked that and I will remember it as I arrive in America next week.

The journey continued and I still had some time in hand to allow a coffee stop, and chance to send a message home to Liz to let her know that all was well.

The weather was getting worse again as morning became day and traffic increased the visibility became less and less, It was not a nice drive at all. Somewhere in Derbyshire or Yorkshire, I am not quite certain where, the traffic ahead of me suddenly slowed, with cars putting on their hazard warning lights to alert drivers behind that there was a hold up. Looking ahead it became apparent that there was some sort of blockage in the left and centre lanes of the motorway as vehicles were moving across, and then I saw what had happened. Skid marks scribed a terrible slew to the left where the metal barrier had been bowed in and flat, creating a sort of launch pad, the two inside lines were covered with dirt and metal and plastic, and laying on its side in the middle of the road was the remains of a small blue car, the front end was smashed (presumably where it had hit the barrier) and the glass in the windows was crazed (although not shattered). The modern airbag system had deployed, meaning that the interior of the car was fortunately shrouded from view. A few other cars had pulled to the hard shoulder and the occupants stood shocked, chatting. No one was tending to the crashed car and I hoped, even maybe prayed, that one of those people was the very very fortunate driver of the blue car who had emerged unscathed from the horror ride. It was obvious that the crash had only just happened, probably the blue car had overtaken me just minutes maybe seconds before. There were no emergency crews on the scene yet and the rest of the traffic filed slowly by, before tentatively speeding up and continuing their journeys. For me the scene was particularly frightening as it brought to mind what could have happened if my tyre had failed at high speed, but I drove on, cautiously and thankfully.

Eventually, after one more rest stop, I arrived at South Shields where the heavy rain continued to batter down, moored on the northern banks of the Tyne was an old friend, the P&O cruise ship Arcadia, on which Liz and I enjoyed happy holidays and on which we both performed. Seeing Arcadia was a lovely welcome to the town. I pulled up outside The Word, at a little loading bay, and called my contact at the venue Pauline Martin who appeared and helped me unload all of the furniture ready to be taken up in a lift to the third floor where I would be performing.

The room in which I perform at The Word is not a theatre space as such, but it is a beautiful circular space with views across the river (dominated by Arcadia). A temporary stage was erected at one end, and chairs were laid out ready for the arrival of the audience. I was due to give a talk about the Staplehurst rail crash in the first half of the programme and then perform The Signalman in the second, so Pauline and I connected a laptop to the projector so that I could show the inevitable PowerPoint slides to accompany the lecture.

The original idea was to use this event as a sort of launch for my new, indeed my first, book: ‘Dickens and Staplehurst. A Biography of a Rail Crash’, but unfortunately the publishers hadn’t manage to send me any copies, so the merchandise table stood empty at the doorway. However, book or no book, the story is a fascinating one and a good tale to tell before the Signlaman.

When we were set up Pauline disappeared to grab some lunch and I got changed into my all black costume, and then sat down to a sandwich, It was 1 o’clock so I had plenty of time to eat before the audience were due to arrive in 30 minutes time. But as I embarked upon my tuna and sweetcorn feast the door opened and a lady ran in, she stopped with an air of great surprise, ‘where is everyone? I hope that more people than this come. It is raining and wild, I suppose, but still!’ and she sat down ready for the show – she certainly wanted to bag a good seat! We chatted a little, and I made a few notes on my script, and then it occurred to me what had happened, the lady had forgotten to put her clocks back that morning, and was convinced that it was showtime and that she would be the only audience member. Fortunately Pauline returned at that moment and politely pointed out that the audience were not going to be admitted until 1.30, at which point the mistake was realised!

When the correct hour arrived the room was filled with a capacity crowd, and many came to say hello (I was hovering at the back of the room), to say they had seen me previously at other venues, and were so excited to see me again, which is always very gratifying. On the stroke of 2 Pauline introduced me and I stepped up to a lectern to begin the talk. I am not altogether at home giving a lecture, but I have presented this one on a few occasions, so I know that it works. The talk follows the plot of the book, although without the biographical aspects of Dickens’ early life, concentrating on the train journey and the building works at Staplehurst, and the aftermath of the crash. Everything went well and bang on time I brought the first half to a close. The audience had a few minutes to stretch their legs, whilst I prepared the stage for The Signalman. When the set was complete, we encouraged everyone back into the room and I began. Naturally the introduction to the show was much shorter (most of it having been given in the first half), so in no time I was launching in to ‘Halloa! Below there!’

The passion and the mystery of the story worked well and I felt quite exhausted and elated as I brought the piece to its end. Having taken my bows, I opened the floor up to questions and the first was ‘what happened to Ellen?’ Ellen Ternan was Charles Dickens’ mistress and was travelling on the train with him. While he assisted with the rescue effort for 2 or 3 hours, Ellen and her mother Frances are conspicuous by their absence from any accounts. The press were ravenous and collected names of all of the passengers involved, but the Ternan name was absent from every one of those reports. Maybe a clue lies in a letter that Dickens wrote a few days after the crash. He described looking out of the carriage window and seeing two guards running beside the wreck, he called to them ‘Look at me. Do stop for an instant and look at me, and tell me whether you don’t know me.’ One of them answered, ‘we know you very well, Mr Dickens’. ‘Then,’ I said, ‘my good fellow, for God’s sake give me your key and send one of those labourers here and I ‘ll empty this carriage’….Charles Dickens ensured he had a few moments to get Ellen out of the train and away before he clambered down into the wreck and very visibly assisted in the rescue effort. In my book I suggest that although that his very public actionss were certainly not a cynical ploy to divert attention from his travelling companions, it was certainly a fortuitous opportunity to perform a sleight of hand as befitted a talented conjurer!

Some of the wounded were looked after in the village of Staplehurst itself whilst others were taken back to London on specially commissioned trains. I imagine that Dickens ensured that the Ternan’s were onboard one of the first trains to leave the scene.

Ellen appeared in London a few days later, for Dickens visited her there and wrote a letter to his manservant asking him to take her a fresh basket of foods and treats every day, so that she may be comfortable. He also wrote to the station master at Charing Cross station asking if a quantity of gold jewellery, engraved with the name Ellen, had been found, as his travelling companion had lost it during the crash. It was at this moment that the mystery of Ellen Ternan began to emerge.

Another question was in response to a comment I had made during my introduction to The Signalman about the fact that although Charles had prepared the story as a reading, he never actually performed it in public. I surmised that his reluctance to perform the piece may have been due to the mental trauma he suffered post Staplehurst, or the fact that being a relatively short reading it would only fit into the ‘comedy slot’ which typically came after a longer, more dramatic reading. The Signalman wouldn’t send an audience home with a cheery skip to their step.

Next came the Q&A ‘market place’: the local branch of The Dickens Fellowship promoted their meetings (I performed at their conference held in Durham a few years ago and they are a vibrant and enthusiastic bunch, indeed) and that was followed up by The Gateshead Little Theatre plugging their own performance of The Signalman which is due to open in a week’s time. I was very happy to give both groups the opportunity to ‘sell their wares’.

I then joined in the general commercial break by not only mentioning my book once more (Dickens & Staplehurst. A Biography of a Rail Crash. Published by Olympia Publishing), but also my return visit to The Word in December to perform A Christmas Carol, and then it was time for the audience to leave and for me to pack up my things.

Once the car was loaded I said my goodbyes and tentatively headed south as far as York, where I was due to stay overnight, thus breaking the long journey home.

I was staying in an elegant hotel called the Elmbank Lodge, although I had booked a ‘courtyard room’ rather than one of the more expensive rooms in the main building. Unfortunately I discovered that the restaurant would not be open to me, as they only had one chef on duty so the only guests who could dine were those who had booked a ‘dinner and breakfast’ package, However the young man at the front desk recommended Valentinos, an Italian restaurant just a 5 minute walk away, which took me past some beautiful Georgian town houses. I also walked past a branch of KwikFit tyre repairers which would be very uselful come the morning.

Dinner was superb, the restaurant was busy and vibrant, with one of the waiters breaking out into snatches of song with a fine baritone voice. I overheard him telling a neighbouring table that he came from Calabria, his house in the shadow of Stromboli. He certainly played the role of opera-singing Italian waiter to a tee, but I rather uncharitably wondered if in fact he came from Barnsley or somewhere similar! When I had finished my Sea Bass and was sipping a strong coffee he came to chat, noticing that I had been reading Motorsport Magazine: ‘Ahh! Motorsport, Ferrari – Ascari, Alboretto, Rossi!’ Yup, he was a genuine Italian!

I returned to the hotel and after a very long day retired early.

Postcript

On waking on Monday morning and watching the television news I saw the story of a train crash that had taken place on Sunday night, on Hallowe’en. A train had struck some debris on the line and derailed, knocking out the signalling equipment as it did so, therefore there was no warning to a following train which ploughed into the wreck. Fortunately there were no fatalities but seventeen were wounded. The news footage focussed on the scene of accident – the two entwined trains at the mouth of a dark, dismal tunnel deep down in a cutting……..

Memories from a Samsung: Omaha, Nebraska

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Bill Sikes, Doctor Marigold, Ebenezer Scrooge, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Historic home, Nebraska, Omaha, The Signalman, Trans Siberian Orchestra

Yesterday’s alert on my phone reminded me that two years ago I was being driven through very heavy snow towards Lincoln, Nebraska from the city of Omaha where I was performing at various venues on behalf of The Douglas County Historical Society, as I had done for many years before that.

My chauffeur on that day, as on so many in Omaha, was Lee Phillips and it was he and his wife Suzy who were responsible for taking me to the most central spot in the USA where sea and shining sea are as far away as it is possible for them to be.

Susie and Lee had seen me perform in Williamsburg, Virginia (no doubt the subject of a future post if my Samsung decides to remind me of times there), and as she was on the board at the Historical Society thought that a fundraiser featuring my shows would be a good idea. As soon as she could she marched into the office of the Society’s Executive Director, Kathy Aultz, and told her that ‘we MUST have Gerald Dickens perform’. Now, if Kathy had known Susie well, known her single-minded attitude, known how once she had an idea nothing would stand in her way, she may have simply said ‘alright let me know what we need to do’, but at that moment Kathy was new to the role and was trying to pick her way through all sorts of budgets, procedures, lists of employees, board members, volunteers. Her desk was covered and her mind was whirling, when suddenly in came this woman demanding that they all go on a road trip to the Kansas City area to watch a distant relative of a dead British guy performing A Christmas Carol. Kathy gave in and agreed to this hair-brained scheme. It is a story that both Kathy and Susie tell now with a great deal of humour and affection.

So, having seen me perform and understanding the possibilities, the Douglas County Historical Society put things in place to bring me to Omaha.

Over the years I have performed in many venues around the city but the two constants have been the General Crook House, a wonderfully atmospheric old property which is open for the public to tour, as well as being the HQ of the Society, and the Field Club – a stylish golf course where Lee just happens to be a member. The latter location hosts the largest audiences of my Omaha visits as we take over a spacious function room for an afternoon tea performance. The room is packed with tables as a large audience of locals and bus tour passengers crowd in to begin their Christmas celebrations.

The Field Club

While the audience is having their tea I have plenty of time to sit and relax, maybe chat to some of the volunteers or watch golf on tv in the wonderfully named ‘cry room’, a small bar where disconsolate golfers drown their sorrows after a frustrating round.

When the tea is finished and cleared Kathy welcomes the guests and introduces me.

Now, up to a few years ago I would walk up onto the stage, take the applause, say a few words of introduction and then start the show, but in recent years I have created a more theatrical opening to the performance: after the introductions, music fills the hall (the melancholic, atmospheric opening bars to the Trans Siberian Orchestra’s Christmas Eve/Sarajevo classic which is based on ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’, the only carol mentioned by name in A Christmas Carol’). When the music dies away it is replaced by a church bell tolling as the hunched figure of Ebenezer Scrooge slowly walks to an imaginary graveside.

The idea works well so long as there is the equipment to play the sound effect as in most venues there is and you would expect a large function room to have the facility to play music, wouldn’t you? Ah, how dull my tours would be if everything was so simple!

At the Field Club the music for the entire facility used to be generated from an audio system tucked away in a tiny little cupboard near the admin offices, but nowhere near the stage area. To play the music cue it was necessary to plug my phone into the system and at the appropriate moment press ‘play’.

Simple.

However…. Kathy was giving the cue on stage and I was at the back of the room ready to enter through the audience, so we had to engage someone to operate the phone (complete with my access code in case it locked), but as they were stuck in the little cupboard there had to be yet another person in the long corridor waiting to relay the signal. This is how it worked: Kathy said ‘and so please welcome Gerald Charles Dickens and A Christmas Carol’, I waved to whoever was in the corridor, they waved to whoever was in the cupboard, they hit play and hopefully the sound effect filled the room. To allow for the inevitable delay, I would start the process a little early so that the music started at the perfect moment, however there were a few occasions when Kathy would be on the point of finishing but just as I was giving the signal she would remember something else she needed to say, and there would be a flurry of hand signals to stop the process!

Last year the Field Club had invested in a new system which allowed the music to be played from within the room itself and although it made for a much simpler and more relaxing start to the show, I did rather miss our adventurous Heath Robinson style set up of years past!

The other venue, the Crook House, is a perfect setting for Victorian story telling. The dining room is cleared and a small stage set up in a large bay window, more of an alcove really. Due to the lack of space I am not able to do my larger theatrical-style shows there, so I usually turn to my smaller repertoire: Doctor Marigold, The Signalman, Sikes and Nancy and A Tale of Two Cities among others. The audience numbers around 40 and such is the intimacy of the setting we have all become good friends over the years.

Actually I have a permanent presence at The Crook House, for a few years ago Kathy arranged to have a life sized carboard cut out of me made to help promote my visits: my alter ego stands quietly in an office and has been christened ‘Flat Gerald’

Of course every venue has its own eccentricities, and The Crook House is no exception to that. One year, I think when I getting all dramatic in the middle of Sikes and Nancy, there was suddenly the sound of a buzzer sounding sporadically. Eventually both I and Kathy realised that the sound coincided with one audience member stretching his legs. I was continuing the show almost on auto pilot, transfixed by this gent’s ability to buzz at will, whilst Kathy quickly realised what was actually happening. The room, having been the house’s formal dining room, had a little bell push under the carpet near to the spot where the hostess would have been seated, so that she could surreptitiously call for the servants to attend and clear the table. Our poor audience member was completely unaware that his foot was activating the hidden switch every time he stretched his leg out.

There have been plenty of other venues in and around Omaha – book shops, high schools (including one performance in the cavernous surroundings of a basketball court!), and more recently senior living communities, but every event is organised by the small and dedicated staff at The Douglas County Historical Society and at every performance Kathy and Susie are there overseeing every detail. As with so many people that I have worked with they have become close friends and valued colleagues.

The Historical Society were one of the prime movers in requesting that I make a video of my show to distribute to their regular audience members and so began the process that will come to fruition on November 26 when my film will be released.