Day 596: Catching

Important Dental Music

My dentist plays Classic FM in his surgery, while he's drilling the shit out of my mouth. Yesterday, we had a rousing Elgar cello concerto (which I love), followed by the Carmina Burana, for fuck's sake. While drilling. It smacks a bit of Sleeping with the Enemy. I expected to turn round and see all the utensils - no, what's the word... the spiky, poky, hurty things that he sticks in my mouth... anyway, them - all lined up perfectly, and an evil glint in his eye. It really made me laugh, that music. It makes me feel less pathetic being as nervous as I am there (and I am both).

Waltzers

Brilliant not-so-brilliant rehearsal with Veal today. Catching patterns like there's no tomorrow, and then dropping some of them. We had many moments of proper laughing in the warm-up, and a few in the scenes that made up the meat of the rehearsal. What I loved is that we kept on, despite things not gelling as we'd like them to. We kept on and we did our thing, and it was well worth it. So good working with that man! 

Not very merry go round

And get this: we did storytelling 8 beats behind. That's supposed to be impossible. Only we did it. We may not have changed the world. Yet. But we've taken steps we didn't know we could. And then we went back and did normal Columbian Headfuck (thanks, Patti Stiles, for that little gift - it has given me many hours of delight) and we were unbelievably shit at that. It's a roundabout. Or a merrygoround. Or a waltzer. 

Loving the C4CC (Centre for Creative Collaboration) in Kings Cross, and London Fusion. Entrepreneurs and small businesses in London, check it out. It might blow your mind like it's blowing mine. And we're only just beginning...

Day 595: Numpty

It's numpty city in my world at the moment. Every time, and I really mean every single time that I send myself a text, and it arrives at my phone with its little magical shaker sound, I am suddenly delighted, and all memory of having hit Send less than a second before has gone from my mind. Gone. Completely. 

All for me

This fact tells me a number of things. One: I'm totally conditioned to react to that sound with curiosity, pleasure and a little rush of significance. Two: It would be cunning of me to work out which bit of software is a notes program on this particular phone, which I've had now for well over a month, possibly closer to two. Or to download one. It would take countable seconds. Less than the length of time than it takes me to make a cup of tea (and god knows I do that enough times in a day). Three: I am a natural born numpty, born, in face, in the village of Little Numpting in the county of Whatareyayou'reaNumpty. And even there, I am renowned for the depth of my Numpthood. I am the supreme Numpty. They pray to me, they do, that they might be blessed with even just a taste of my level of numpt. They haven't got a chance!

Siobhan Finneran

Sooooo... Happy Valley. Iiiisss iiiittt? It so is. Anyone watching it? I know I am. In fact, it's kind of taken over my life a little bit, or at least certain parts of my head. If you don't know it, get onto BBCiPlayer and check it the fuck out. Start from the beginning. Avoid IMDB and any summary website (even the BBC website) to make sure you don't spoil yourself and then get your face round that. 

Beautifully written, beautifully played. All the people you see a lot of are (to me, at least) entirely believable and entirely compelling and I want more of them. It's one of those, like The Killing and The Bridge, where I find myself totally engaged between episodes, and where it creeps into my conscious mind for a bit of a dabble whenever it likes. I reckon it's working overtime in the depths. And it takes me back 'home', to the hills I grew up in (or near them), for which I rarely feel nostalgia, but they are darkly beautiful and a pleasure to look at and be in again for a while.

Joe Armstrong, Steve Pemberton, Adam Long

There's been a bit of a furore (has there? it's a great word but I'm not sure it's accurate) about how much violence there is towards women in it. Hmmmm. Well, yes, there is. There's a lot of violence towards women, and of course it raises the old question about sexual violence (a question that that Angelina Jolie off of Hollywood is fronting in an event to End Sexual Violence in Conflict in June). It's an easy way to hurt a person, a woman especially. It's not exclusively done to women, but of course it's more prevalent in the world to attack women that way than men, and simple biology (the average size of men and women, how women are made, physically, how men are) mean that it's an easier possibility. It's more obvious. 

When you look at the show, though (and I promise not to be too specific) the violence is not simply against women and it's not committed by all (or very many) men. Most of the men in the show never lift a finger in violence, and the writing is so good that I can run them through a million situations in their real actual lives and conclude that they just wouldn't. Some of the violence is committed, and initiated, by women. What's good about the particular violence shown in this incredibly skilful series is that it's horrible. It's not throwaway or inconsequential - it hurts to watch - it hurts me and it appalls most of the characters, men and women alike. It's also the not-shown that's so ugly. I come away and I'm thinking about it... about what it means and what the impact is. It's strong in my mind because it matters, and it's shown to matter, not treated as 'the norm' or in any way ok.

Sarah Lancashire

And the main women, whether helpless in certain situations or not, are not victims; even those whose circumstance makes them so. They're reasonable, principled, human, strong women, who suffer and show it and make decisions and cope sometimes and other times not, but who are determined and on purpose, and that, among other things, is what keeps me coming back. And there are those who are just as flawed and weak and part of the problem as the men who are (and not those who aren't). I'm watching these people, all of them, being flawed and being brilliant, sometimes both at the same time, and I'm wanting things for them and feeling
pain and love and relief and confusion and fear as they do.

So anyway, that's my lot. Thank you, Sally Wainwright - your writing is exquisite and episode 4, which I believe you directed, had me completely gripped, every second of the way. And thank you, Sarah Lancashire, Siobhan Finneran, George Costigan, Derek Riddell, Sophie Rundle, Steve Pemberton doing a brilliant turn, Charlie Murphy, James Norton. I'm in.

Oh, and this is beautiful. No relevance.

Day 594: Throes

This exists

So I turn up at a job in Brussels, in a hotel in the airport. I have never met ANYONE who has anything to do with it. I've paid for my own travel. I've yet to fully ingest the materials and yet I'll be delivering the next day, a quite comprehensive brief/scenario, in French. There are six other actors on this job. The closest I've come to contact with them is a shared phone call where most of us didn't speak.

By the first minute that I meet the first actor (and the only man) we're laughing. I can't remember what about, but we are. He speaks beautifully in both languages: diction to die for and poise too. Then the rest arrive, a pair and a three. One pair are acquaintances, one has a friend in common, the rest are proper strangers. We have lunch. We've known each other for less than an hour but there's food-pleasure moaning going on, and lots of sharing. We're all a bit nervous, but we manage, most of us, to partake of the eye-watering gourmetness on offer. 

The site of all the food throes
and a lot of the laughing

48 hours later, we've done our two days. We've laughed more than you can imagine. We've done a really good job, including bashing together a workshop at no notice. We're all a little bit humbled to have been part of that particular team. And I've invited one person to come dancing and to stay, another to collaborate on a job... there's so much joy and yessage out there. I am so grateful for my job. So grateful. 

And then I get back and work and do juice and then Bridget Quigg is at my house! I've met this woman once in real life, what three years ago? four? It feels so very easy and lovely and I can't wait to play today. We have the day to go and explore, hopefully swim (in the rain - sounds counterintuitive but it's such a beautiful thing to do and it's relatively warm out there). Exciting!

Day 593: Catching Patterns on Sunday

Lordy! Three days of process coaching with some of the richest streams of fabulousness i've been around in a very long time (except last time i saw them). I feel like I've been through a whole soap opera over the last three days. 

I spent a lot of Friday crying with commitment over a thing that wasn't a thing but that that meant that another thing might be true and that would be (and meant I was) just awful. Thanks to fantastic Kimberley, her skill, her warmth and her patience, I checked out my reasoning and had a lovely night in Croydon on the back of it. And here I am being all flippant, but honestly, I was inconsolable, and Nothing Had Happened. It was all story. And if you don't believe in the power of story, there's your proof. And the best bit is that even if my story had been true, or something worse had been true, I would have been fine. Fuck's sake!

Saturday - oh, Saturday. I was fine, and then, guess what - I thought I must be doing the course wrong because I was fine and it would have been useful for me to be deeper into not being fine that day. And then we went dancing, 5 Rhythms, Sue Rickards being stunning at the desk, and the weight of the world just melted into the movements of my body. I had an actual fight in dance form, with a stranger. I can't tell you how long I've been suggesting to people that an actual fight might make things better. It's either that or sex for that level of passion, and often it's the fight I'd prefer. So me and this stranger wrestled and hissed and did everything but hit (or hit on) and it was the best thing ever. 

And lovely Kimberly came with me. I was proud and delighted and excited and just so delicioused out by the whole experience of being there with this wonderful personand ignoring   each other for most of it, on purpose, till it was our time to dance with each other, and then having a lovely time dancing. I loved it, even though my knees complained a bit after. Rich and brave and tasty and wonderful, and so beautifully shared.

And today, oh today... More course. Great people. Richness of the work and some really surprising stuff done... and then what? And then a show with Simon and Pattern Catchers. Maaaaan. How lucky am I to get to play with Simon Veal, and to get to be experimenting on stage like that. It's a massive privilege. Simon ROCKED tonight. He was on fire and all the while easy, calm, playful and so satisfying in his choices and in his presence. We had such wonderful fun and got to play three different mini-shows on the same night. How delightful that we're doing what we're doing. How much fun to play! People seemed genuinely interested in what we were doing, which was gratifying, and even if they hadn't liked it, we like it. We love it! It gives us joy, and if that's not enough, then what is?

Day 592: Duck It Up

I love a good hard day's work, me, especially when it involves as much laughing as today did. I adored spending two days with Rich and Kristof, and playing with the animations we've been working on. Loved it. Happy, creative fun. Good meat.


I swam too (sorry Rich - he was here early - I was in the pond). I was slipping through the silk of it when two fantastic mandarin ducks breezed in and landed right next to me, painted like leaves and fire, yet totally unassuming. They're not peacocks. They're just beautiful with no showboating needed. 

That day is now way past... and today, this: 

Silky smooth water; mandarin underfeathers floating; a coot mithering on her nest - an unobtrusive little warning chatter when swimmers go by; geese living it large in the sky close above the pond - three diving and shouting, one peeling off to rise above the trees; the company of women; Ruth; warmth.

A rewarding meeting followed by hours playing at work in the park. I'm SO lucky to get to do what I do. I love it with my heart, I do. It's ACE. And I get to laugh into my phone with good people and walk in a whole other park and play and be full of thanks. Thanks. Thanks. Wonderful.

Day 591: Catching Patterns

Tasty first gig with Pattern Catchers at Duck Duck Goose in Stockwell last night - it's so exciting to be trying out something brand new with an audience. We had no idea if what we've been playing with for all this time would be satisfying for an audience or not. I think it was, and the even more exciting thing is that the more we perform, the more it will evolve. 


And I love playing with Simon. He's inventive and relaxed, effortlessly funny and a great person to be on stage with. We were introduced as 'twoprov', and although there are only two of us at the moment, that's not the only way forward. This format opens itself to more people if we want. It could be fun. I suppose what I'm saying is that there being two isn't the point... although it is blatantly the case. 

Were the patterns we caught like this? Not sure.

We also saw The Science of Living Things. They were truly delightful, well-oiled and playful, listeny, dynamic and a pleasure to watch. And I talked to another lovely Emily - one of their fold - on the train home. She was ACE. Is it just a thing that people called Emily are fabulous? If I ever have a child... let's pray for his sake that it's not a boy.

Day 590: Cuphead Glory

That Emily. She's delicious, that one. Artist, poet, laugher, dancer. More human than that and you turn into a river. I like her very much indeed and I just got to spend a weekend with her. How lucky am I?

With her and a bunch of fucking hippies. I felt at home. Some of it was too 'cosmic' for words and some of it was just lovely. Some of it was both. I ENJOYED A CEILIDH! That's the first time in a very long time that's been true. It was a laugh. It was playtime. The dancing was shoddy and I laughed a lot with strangers.

It was a workshop shanty town, buried in the bowels of Sussex, all lush and tasty. The trees were full of fresh leaves and the grass was long. Endless birds sang. Wisteria reached over archways, making them pretty and a long willow draped itself like a waterfall curtain. 

I slept out in a tent on the first night, and froze and bemoaned my aching hips, and slept in fits and got up cross and fractious, sleeping in secondary little fits all day. On night two, I snuck into an unlocked, heatered hall and slept on sofa cushions. Emily joined me. We were bleary with sleep and smiling through the clouds in the morning. I was wholeheartedly grateful. 

I found a lovely yoga friend and we experimented, giving each other a class each (woo hoo! back to practice, back to teaching. It really is such wonderful fun to teach and everyone involved feels good). We had big conversations, drank herbal tea, ate cake. Beautiful. 

And when I got home, I had five whole minutes of the dog, face to the ground, whining and wagging while I did the same, my face on his while scratching his excited bottom. Nobody greets you like a dog. Nobody does 'happy you're home' quite that well. Loving it!