The Rather Expected Journey

Today my phone woke me up at 6am and I leapt out of bed. No, this was no early call time, this was my travel alarm. Today, I begin the long and arduous journey to Germany without the aid of air travel.

It will be many trains, a coach, and a brief ferry crossing before I see my parents but overall I'm looking forward to a day of sitting down. Well, a day and a half really, I won't arrive in Leipzig until tomorrow afternoon, but at least I'll have plenty of time to nap. As such, I won't be writing any more postcards this year, as I won't be back to touring life until January; should you wish to be kept abreast of my daily affairs, you may consider my other blogs (I shall be posting over the New Year's period about what London is like) or alternatively, Facebook is usually quite up to date.

Merry Christmas, minions! Be good and we'll speak again soon.

Much Better, Now.. Tea?

Finally, after days of turmoil and struggle (admittedly more for the team than myself), I'm feeling back to normal. Just in time too, as we've only got two shows on Sunday before we are rewarded with a long-awaited Christmas break.

Today I was introduced to the Irn-Bru Carnival in Glasgow, a splendid fairground assambled indoors to protect from the weather. The result was rollercoasters, funhouses, rides, and bumper cars - some I hadn't even seen since I was a boy running excitedly around Hull Fair. The boyish attitude came out in full force as I pranced around eagerly standing in queues, screaming and laughing on stomach-jolting rides, and enjoying the company of friends. I must admit that I will be happy to be back in London, but the friendships I've fostered here will certainly remain.

Inevitable Illness

The following post contains images which may disress some readers. Please to not attempt to read if you are eating, or of a squeamish nature.

I'm sick. I knew it would happen eventually, but I was in no way prepared for the magnitude of my current ill health. It started on Monday evening, not long after I had written my daily blog post and was settling down to sleep. My stomach was having none of it. Seconds after the last person had shut their bathroom door, I was creeping gingerly around Joe's bed, carefully pacing down the stairs, locking the bathroom door behind me, and making a quick mental calculation, I threw up into the sink. The mental calculation in question was a case of sink or toilet, sink won because my gut was feeling as bad as my stomach, and thus began a night of frequent vomiting and very little sleep. I warned you the images would be distressing.

The following morning, as the other team were leaving, and long before I'm usually awake, I was throwing up again (all I had in me was water, but it was coming up with vigour) and really wishing I could take a day off. Sadly, such things don't exist in this job, so I held down a slice of dry toast and a few tentative sips of water, and went to work. Tuesday was awful. There is no other way to describe it. I threw up the water I consumed during the first show, but thankfully managed to retain a small bottle of orange juice and a few mouthfulls of Ribena before the second show, allowing me just enough energy to prevent stage collapse.

Today was slightly better, I managed a large bowl of cereal in the morning and packed a substantial lunch, ready to face the day ahead. The show was about to start and I suddenly realized I really wasn't feeling well. Bloated was the word which eventually came to mind, as the aftermath of vomiting had left a large amount of trapped gas. Now, and how's this for a distressing image, gas trapped lower in the digestive tract can act as a plug in the furthermost regions. As a result, I tried at all costs to avoid jumping, running, or even shouting in case I managed to dislodge said plug and the contents of my still ill body spilled into my costume. Fortunately at lunchtime we stopped opposite a pharmacy, which provided a very useful diagnosis and tablets to aid the problem. The second show was much more successful; after I had taken a few moments alone to deflate the tyre that was my colon I was able to dance and sing with a newfound vigour and joy! Of course, as soon as the show finished my body reminded me that I still hadn't had a decent meal in almost two days (lunch was impossible). I collapsed into the van and proceded to make up for two days of missed pointless conversation.

Lasts

The last Monday saw the last double, the last chance to have a one-to-one with a company manager. Well, the last before Christmas anyway. It was a long day with little respite and a surprise visit from Emma (who shall hereafter be known as Clugel), who's no-nonsense attitude and charming demeanour (coupled with her addressing me loudly as 'DinDORF!') earned her an immediate place in my affections during rehearsals.

This alone may be the most important week of our tour. It's the final week of term, schools are paying hefty (undisclosed) amounts for the privilege of our performing to them, and the Spirit of Christmas is driving us forward to our well-deserved holiday. I've decided to try not to stress about what I face after we finish on Sunday, and must resign myself to 30 hours of travel between Ayr, Scotland and Leipzig, Germany. Joy to the world.

Under One Roof

This, the penultimate weekend before Christmas, we're in a beautiful cottage in Scotland, sardined in with another team (which happens to contain our director and her boyfriend). It's a glorious reunion and a lovely way to spend the last week before our well-deserved Christmas break.

I have to admit that I would have a much more tedious tour if we hadn't so frequently been close to other teams. Don't get me wrong, the four of us still get along like we've been life-long friends, but I just like meeting new people, and there's only so much new information you can learn from a person before people say you have an 'unhealthy obsession'. So prepare for a week of frolicking, galavanting, and delightful anecdotes. And then, (the following is in upper case and must be read as such,) IT'S CHRIIIISTMAAAAS!

Feels like Friday

This has been a long day. Two days, really. The usual relaxation which accompanies Friday and Saturday were not afforded to us this week. We had to pack everything on Friday in preparation for leaving, and then today we had an hours drive, ninety minutes to kill in a little café, a ninety minute get-in, two shows (both with intervals, and an hour's break between the two), and finally get-out, hour's drive, and unloading at this week's accom.

If I thought I was tired before, past me is laughing at how tired I have become. And to top it off we start next week with a double on Monday morning. Joy to the world. On the plus side, my cold appears to be receding, so hopefully no more coughing into people's faces.

Snow Business Like Show Business

Today, in the misty peaks of Scotland, I glimpsed the winter's first snowfall. It was... Cold. Some might use words like 'magical' or 'pretty' but the fact is it was cold, wet, and white. The effect wasn't helped by the fact that most of the precipitation actually amounted to sleet, which is not comfortable to walk through at the best of times, least of all when performing heavy lifting duties.

On the plus side, schools are fully into Christmas and children are excitable, a huge boost when it comes to pantomime performances. The cheering, clapping and boos increase steadily in volume and it makes a huge difference to us on stage having something to play against. If I'd wanted silent, contemplative audiences I would have perused a career in poetry reading.

A Stitch in Time

I am really starting to loath a costume item that requires near daily maintenance. Especially when it's an essential item, and when it takes precedence over less prominent clothing. My pair of full-body undergarments, revealed only briefly at the end of the show, are worn from curtain up and as such get plenty of wear and tear. Mostly tear in this case.

The most frustrating thing is that my efforts are all for nought. The fabric isn't exactly brand new, and many wearers and washes have worn the material so thin that it has gone from tearing to completely vanishing, leaving the odd loose thread and a gaping hole in its place. I try to see these holes, but this just makes the costume tighter, meaning more rips begin to creep their way in. A vicious catch-22 of thread and needle, though I haven't stabbed myself recently I suppose (touch wood).

Kings, Princes, and Pirates

An exciting weekend, eh? Well, it was for those of us who've been following I'm A Celebrity for the past few weeks. Carl Fogarty (Foggy) became a very deserving King of the Jungle, beating the likes of Michael Burke, Edwina Currie, and Melanie Sykes. Go on lad!

X Factor is in it's final stages, and yep. That's happening. Tonight is The Royal Variety Performance, which is basically an excellent annual excuse to gather together comedians, musicians, and other performers and show them off to the royal family for the entertainment of the general British populus. I, however, have torn myself away in the noble pursuit of sleep. Hook has been a little lacklustre lately and I'm trying to bring him back up to scratch before Christmas. Got two busy weeks ahead to perfect the act, and we all know how I love a challenge.

Shiny, Sparkly Clean

I seem to clean best after midnight. Not sure why, I'm rather tired and have been feeling completely exhausted during shows recently, but the kitchen is beautiful, my laundry is done and Family Guy has been on TV for a little over an hour.

Tomorrow we're off back to Scotland, chasing winter as much as it may try to elude us.

Balancing Act

This title is rather literal, and refers to my distinct inability to stay on my feet. A day or two ago, Joe had to physically catch hold of me whilst we were on stage to prevent me from falling into the flat, likely crushing poor Emily who would have been behind it. Today, in the middle of a song I prepared to spin the same flat, and the usually fluid motion of throwing a curtain over me became a desperate struggle to remain upright. Fortunately the worst did not happen, and Grace and I had a good laugh about it. Even if it had fallen, the stage was empty so the only damage would have been to my pride (and possibly the set after I landed heavily on top of it.)

I'm not sure what's been causing my recent dramatic failures of balance. Perhaps I'm just tired, perhaps my feet are not coping with unsupportive shoes, perhaps my inner-ears are slowly eroding from the speaker-exposure. Either way, I'm sure it's nothing too serious.

All The World's A Stage

And a really small one at that.

You know, if someone had told me a year ago that this Christmas time I'd be on stage about once a week, I'd have been filled with prophetic joy. Of course that was before I joined a company that built and transported their own specialty sets. Sets which are built around a one-size-fits-all and curtains-solve-everything theory. It's a brilliant idea, in theory and in practice. 90% of the time we have nice big school halls, space to spread out and really work the whole performance space. And then there's the other times.

Sets are usually built on stages, to fit the stage. Stages, however, are not built with sets in mind, and so we have often found ourselves crushed into tiny spaces with a large amount of equipment and packaging (i.e. big, space-hogging boxes) leaving us to shimmy around backstage as though we were trying not to wake some sort of sleeping monster. Not exactly glamorous, but somehow I manage to smile nonetheless. Probably because I still enjoy it.

Peter also hit Captain Hook today in the face. With a sword. Luckily there's enough movement in that scene to cover up my unstoppable laughter.

Scrooge McHook

Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas. Not as much as some people, admittedly, I find it difficult to muster the unbridled joy I had in my childhood but it's a time of year when I'll usually see my family which is always something to look forward to.

Of course, with Christmas in the air, schools go into overdrive with festive cheer, and today I saw one of the largest real Christmas trees of my life, which happened to be taking up a good quarter of our backstage space. More importantly, the space I would normally use to change, set my costume and props, and where I would discard said items when I jumped off stage. A minor inconvenience to say the least, I almost left half of my costume under the tree as we left. It also resulted in my kicking a fallen bauble onto stage at one point as I rushed from exit to entrance.

On the plus side, my Christmas travel has been booked and paid for so I've now got some long trains and overnight busses to look forward to over the break.

The Ol' Switcheroo

Christmas is in the air; advent calendars are opening, Olly Murs was on Radio One playing various festive jingles, Christmas trees have appeared in houses and schools alike, but the universe couldn't let us forget that it was Monday, and nobody is allowed to like Mondays.

We arrived at school number one, and everything seemed in order. A reasonable get-in, cups of tea, Christmas decorations galore, all going well. I was halfway through securing all the curtains with gaffa tape, when Joe announced that the office had been called by our morning school to say we hadn't arrived. Odd, I thought, we've been here almost an hour and they haven't noticed us? They even brought us tea. How very unobservant of them. Of course then it was found out that today's school had traded places since we had first been given our schedule, and we were standing in the afternoon school. We have never, and with any luck will never, do a get-out with such vigour ever again. By the time we got back into the van I was perspiring heavily, and we hadn't even done a show. The intended school were very nice about it, allowing us to start late seemed to suit their needs. The afternoon school (to which we hastily returned after having no time to stop during lunch) was also very nice and we started on schedule.

It doesn't matter what time of year it is, who you're with, or what you're doing; Mondays will always be rubbish.

That Friday Feeling

One of the most interesting things about finally having a job which operates on a normal work week is that my appreciation of Friday has dramatically increased. In a pub, Friday brings with it a sense of resigned dread with the knowledge that everyone else has finished work for the week and will want a drink, and that they will probably want another drink, and another until it's well past midnight and you're not even masking the disdain in your voice when you ask them to leave.

Now, it's 4:30pm on a Friday and not only and I off work until Monday morning, but already I'm on a train bound for the beautiful city that is York, and all the beautiful people who live there. I could get used to this lifestyle, I suppose, but when it comes down to it I think I would always rather work in the latter part of the day, leaving my mornings to relax. Some day I'll strike a balance, and until then I'm happy where I am.

Good Evening Wemb- Wherever We Are!

Tonight saw Team Tomato's first evening show, in a large hall on a large stage with a paying audience. For the first time in ages I felt wonderfully at home, treading the boards, looking out at the sea (in truth, more like a large pond) of chairs, the lights, the sound, everything screamed theatre! Then this illusion of grandeur is shattered by the Audience of Boredom. Honestly some of those faces said, 'I would literally rather be having a root canal right now.' If pantomime bothers you that much then don't have children.

The saving grace were four members of Team Dry Fish - who's performance of Robin Hood we had seen earlier this week - clapping, cheering, laughing and booing their hearts out. And then helping us clear out afterwards. That's what friends are for, eh? Personally, I couldn't ask for better ones.

Today got me thinking though, if I could do this set-up full time (i.e. one show in the afternoon, one in the evening) I absolutely would, without hesitation. Of course, I realise that's essentially what I'm working towards: a profession in theatre, doing matinees and evening shows. It's always nice to realise the passion is still there, and that the goal hasn't changed.

Minions, if you take anything from reading my words, let it be this: dreams, by their very nature, are difficult to grasp or remember; but when you find passion your dreams will be as vivid as life itself. Those are the dreams to chase.

Mockingjay: Part 1 (Roses are White...)

Today we treated ourselves to a night at the cinema in Durham to see the latest installment of the Hunger Games filmatic series. And once again, I was not disappointed.

Having just finished the book I was especially eager to see how true the adaptation was, and despite some minor details being skimmed over (or at least re-imagined) the overall effect was brilliant. The advantage of a film over the book is that the film can go beyond the first-person perspective of the written works, allowing a huge opportunity for filmmakers to allow extra detail not seen in the books. As I'm refraining from posting any spoilers, I shall leave it there, with the recommendation that you read the books, watch the films, and join the fight.

Hook: Mime Artist

There has been an affliction which has affected me like a curse since my early forays into the thespian lifestyle: my throat. Whenever opportunity knocks, some lurgy seems to sneak through the cracks before I can shut the door, and render me (somewhat literally) speechless. Today, the curse chose to strike.

It was nought more than a mild cough at first, but as soon as I began to act something was wrong. It wasn't just the horrendous feedback from my microphone that troubled me (still having issues on that front), but the fact that my voice just wasn't coming out of my mouth. It is as though certain pitches of speech have been muted, and since I rarely speak in monotone, the effects are noticeable.

Fortunately, I discovered the perfect cure for my ailment during my first acting gig, back in school - anaesthetic throat spray. Genius stuff, literally numbs all the bits that are hurting (i.e. preventing sound) and allows my deep, bellowing tones to echo once more around hall and school.

12-Person Get-out

Turns out when you trebble the number of people striking a set, the time taken decreases rapidly. Far more than two-thirds, by my estimates.

Tonight we had the treat of being able to watch another team perform their show, and it was lovely. The jokes were on point, the villain was a delicious mix of evil and hilarious, the good guys were all smiles and excellent fight skills, and the children laughed, clapped, sang along. And at the end, we joined fellow audience-based team and helped them get everything into their van. A record time later, we're all in our vans and off home just in time to get into bed. Because apparently this week is going to be punctuated by evil morning call times.

Early to Bed, Early to Rise

So the saying goes; health, wealth, and wisdom should soon be forthcoming. Until then, some reflections on villainy.

I love playing the villain. In fact I've almost always played some sort of mean-spirited or misguided character throughout my acting life. There's something really invigorating about being mean, being really, really disliked by an audience, that I just love. Much as I love playing the good guy (see Kill Day), there's always a sort of pressure to keep the audience on your side. You have to make them like you, make them laugh, you have to fight for their affection. As a villain, you don't have to do anything. If they want to like you, that's great. I've had loads of children acting like presidents of the Captain Hook Fan Club during shows, made even better by the hundreds of children around them booing as if their life depended on it. Villainy allows for a great degree of freedom in acting, and a certain following who will support you with such outstanding valour. Call it supporting the underdog, call it being sadistic, everyone loves the bad guy. I suppose the only drawback is there's pretty much zero chance of on-screen romance.

I'm a Pirate... Get Me Out of Here!

Since Big Brother left Channel 4, I've been hard pressed to find really good trash TV to keep me going, fuelling my expectations of minor celebrity status. Luckily, I'm a Celebrity is back for its fortnight-long romp, and I'm reminded of how much I would love to have enough celebrity status to be invited to the Australian jungle, but how much I would probably hate everyone else who has the same level of celebrity as me.

Already I'm shouting at the TV, sighing loudly at any stupid comment, and wincing at the various trials. The pay is probably lousy as well, considering what you're put through. However, if that call came through, you can bet your bush tucker I'd drop everything to wade through cockroaches and chow down on genitals. After all, it's like the turtle and the slug, amirite?

The Get-Ins

This isn't the fist-bump, top-score, boss battle 'get in', this is us moving a vanful of heavy set and equipment into some rather unaccommodating schools. Today, both of them were horrible.

School one: park on the road, move your things up these stairs and a ramp into this classroom whist we wait for breakfast club to finish, then you can just put your stuff in and be ready to start in about half an hour? Yes, and whilst we're at it, I'll have Jennifer Lawrence appear for a cameo, shall I?

School two: Emily's reaction summed it up really. "Ah. I think I've been here before. Hm." No amusing anecdote about a previous show, no scary stories of mislaid props, just a slightly concerned "Hm." The concern was well founded. It made the morning school look like a walk in the metaphorical park. We dodged our set through at least one classroom, two hallways, four tight turns, and 12 steps. And we were in a rush.

Well, at least my microphone works these days.. (touch wood).

Late, as Usual

Missed the midnight deadline which separated yesterday from its more current counterpart it seems. Ah well, with any luck you'll get two posts in the next 24 hours.

The reason for my lateness can be attributed to the same cursed plauge that resulted in a spate of empty days and late bedtimes last week - reading. Having finally watched Catching Fire, I decided I could finally crack into Mockingjay, which has been snuggly sitting on my kindle since I first got it last year. Now, three days later, it has been read and my praise for the Hunger Games series has peaked, as the ending neatly ties up all the lose ends whilst at the same time remaining truly gripping down to the final words. I can't wait to see the film.

On another note, one more item was checked off my bucket list tonight; I now own an entirely unauthentic sombrero. Thank you, Chiquitos.

Christmas Cometh

The advertising is out in full force, the Christmas isles have appeared in supermarkets, the Coca-Cola lorry is touring the country, if anyone was unsure as to our next big holiday event, they've probably been living in a hole with no electricity or any means of keeping time.

For me, as usual, this is the time of year when I negotiate with work time I can spend with my family and friends. Last year was quite easy.. I was working in a call centre where I could chose my shifts and they closed over Christmas anyway. This year things are a little more awkward. We don't actually know when we're breaking up for the holidays. It all hinges on dates and flights for me. I want to see my family for Christmas and work the pub for New Year. That's if we stop performing early enough for me to get flights. Otherwise it may be the other way around. In a worst-case scenario I won't find out in time to get any flights and I'll be at a bit of a loss during the festive season.. it doesn't usually occur to me that planes can sell out.. I suppose I've been quite lucky so far. Let's hope it holds out until the end of the year..

Good Night

Nowhere has my life-long night-owl status been more prevalent than when I'm in a situation involving 'normal' working hours. If I had it my way, bed time would be around midnight to one a.m., my alarm would go off around 10am and my day would begin in earnest around noon. But here I am, in bed at 10:30pm (and it feels like a late bedtime since everyone else was upstairs over an hour ago), my alarm set for just after 6:00am, and with me needing to be in the van before 7, ready for the day.

Many people mistake this odd ideal timeframe for laziness. I disagree. During my waking hours I am just as productive as anyone else, occasionally even more so, because for some pathological reason my brain prefers scrubbing kitchens at midnight and lounging around before noon. Alas, my brain is currently overruled by my body, along with a pretty clear contract. If I want to feed it, I have to adapt to this alien schedule. You'd think after nine weeks I would be used to it.. no such luck.

The Scourge of the Writer

There is a power in this universe which, when implemented, is more detrimental to a writer such as myself than any illness or disaster.

That power is the time- and concentration-succubus that is reading. Yes, a well-penned novel can destroy plans set in solid stone, utterly obliterate any hope of productivity or interaction with the real world. That, in short, is why I didn't write anything yesterday. I was too tired from reading The Colour of Magic by Terry Prachett. Rather, I was finishing it. Because it was excellent. If anyone is struggling to think of Christmas present ideas (you probably all are. I apologize, I can be somewhat hard to buy for) then I may hint at an Amazon gift card. No need for frivolous spending, a mere £3 will buy me a new book. And I promise, I won't judge how much you love me on how much money you give me. Absolutely not.

Time Doesn't Fly

Time flows, peacefully but with purpose. That's how it feels anyway. I know it doesn't feel like week 7 on the road, but I hardly feel as though I lived in London for a while year. However it feels, facts remain. Rehearsals, which feel like we could still be in them, were two months ago. That ridiculous B&B, we haven't been there for almost three weeks.

And yet, it feels like an age since I've seen my friends, two days past. Years since I've seen my family, which in some cases it has been. Time is a funny thing, which we have no control over. It feels like memory has a firm grip on time, but in reality you can grip time as easily as water.

Troubles

There are two things I could talk to you about this evening. One has plagued me since the tour started, the other since I mastered self-awareness (yes, rather more philosophical an ailment.)

The most prevalent one is these damned microphones. I can see why I've never felt at a loss without them. I'm now using the replacement mic pack and yet problems have not been remedied. This pack doesn't like batteries. Today, mid-show, the battery moved somewhat. The microphone stopped transmitting. Twice. Once in each show. In show one this resulted in Mr Darling's second entrance occurring as I tried to desperately pull my clothes back on over my microphone wire (apparently the audience didn't notice that he looked a little more unkempt than his initial appearance); show two granted me a little more time to accomplish this manoeuvre, and in Hook's costume, with the added joy of juggling the tech cues amid costume fiddling. Bah and humbug to the lot of 'em.

The second thought.. perhaps better left for another time. Goodnight, minions.

The Long Weekend

Don't you just love those weekends that feel like forever, the days amble on in no particular hurry, the nights seem to last long enough to get 10 hours sleep without missing that brunch meeting, and everyone you see is just plain old happy. This was one of those weekends. And to top it off, people I was unassociated with were getting into difficult situations in front of me. Schadenfreude at its best.

On the train to York a woman got into an argument with the guard because her 2-person railcard wasn't valid without a second traveller (the guard was polite, professional, and kept a hilarious smile glued to his face). The weekend's main event was the underwhelming second part of Doctor Who's series finale. I won't go into detail for fear of 'Spoilers!' being cried through the streets, but suffice to say I was unimpressed. Tonight, considerably delaying my return journey to base camp, I watched The Hunger Games: Catching Fire. I read the book a while ago but never had chance to see this instalment, and I loved it. The details, descriptions, everything I loved about the book had made it into the ridiculously long motion picture. Now I can't wait to read and see Mockingjay.

Everybody Needs Good Neighbours

I'm going to miss having Team Dickpan next door, they're leaving tomorrow and their TM Hayley is not only bloody lovely - she's the dear who shot me in the face for Halloween - but she's also got a PlayStation and a plethora of nerdy humour to match my own. Tonight we played Worms, the odd new 3D version which I think is ridiculously inferior to the classic two-dimensional strategy game (this new version reminded me very much of an old classic - Hogs of War - from the PS1 days..) but a jolly good laugh nonetheless.

Alas, all good things must inevitably end;  Dick takes wing tomorrow, off to roam in new climbs and so forth, and I'll be stuck with Team Tomato once more. And if I'm honest, there are few people I'd rather be stuck with than these three.

Remember, Remember

No fireworks, bonfires or even sparklers for me tonight. I did, however, fill Uma with hot chocolate and settled down to watch more Game of Thrones, followed by The Apprentice and costume repairs.

I know I've mentioned it before, but I'll repeat for those of you who may not have gotten the idea; never ever try and tell an actor that they have an easy job. It is possibly the most insulting thing you could tell us and you may well have some insults (Shakespearian and contemporary) directed towards you followed by lengthy speeches about what we go through on a daily basis. I bring this up because yesterday a certain head teacher made a rather offensively offhand remark, asking, "so are you all looking into Drama Studies, or what?" I wish I lived in a cartoon so I could have smacked her with my BA Theatre & English Literature degree, which I earned two years ago. No, this is not some sort of hobby, this is my profession, much like yours is being in charge of a school. My hobbies include video games, Doctor Who, and blogging, much like yours seem to include being a colossal arse-hat.

Nope-vember

When I first heard about Movember (back when it was called the slightly less catchy 'No-shave November') I participated. Not that I had much to offer, my hair was more prone to falling across my face rather than growing on it. Now that the delights of being a teenager have passed, I'm consciously not participating out of respect for men everywhere. Because that which I call facial hair is about as respectable as a small dog in a raincoat.

Based on my family's genealogy, I should be able to grow something resembling a beard by the time I'm 27. Until then, don't hold your breath.

I Need More Souls!

No, I didn't get killed over the weekend. The blame behind my lack of blogging lies with Soul Caliber, Game of Thrones, and actually that about covers it. We're in the Durham/Newcastle area for the next month and a half, and for the first week we're neighbours with one if the Dick Whittington teams. Their TM, Hayley, is a self-confessed nerd and had the PS3, Marvel pajamas and Batman slippers to back up that confession. We had a good ol' natter about all things exciting in the world of nerdom, including the MCU line-up for the next 5 years and then we combined asdf and Skyrim before moving on to Soul Caliber character creation (Captain Hook is rather dashing and a skilled fighter) and play. As one of the fundamentals of this game is button-mashing, we were quite evenly matched, and I claim that my losses were nothing more than fluke.

Back in our own house, Joe and Emily invested in the first two seasons of Game of Thrones, in order to re-live the excellent television that is the series, and also to introduce Grace to said awesomeness. I came back to catch the end of episode one, ending on my favourite cliffhanger (spoiler alert, but if this is a spoiler you're unbelievably behind the times): Jamie pushing Bran out of the window. Fits! Wine! Incest! Child abuse! All in the first episode. And it keeps getting better. Can't wait to re-live it with them.

Happy, Happy, Happy Halloween

Halloween, that magical time of year when villainy is celebrated and death is merely a clever way of winning a costume contest.

Today's shows were excellent, children dressed up in all manner of excellent costumes. My personal favourite was one child dressed as Slenderman, complete with suit and white full-head mask which he did not take off throughout our show.

And in true Friday fashion, we took no part in any festivities. Instead we sat down, turned on Film4, and watched Hocus Pocus followed by Van Helsing. Accompanied by Auchentoshan Creme Liqueur, purchased directly from the distillery, and boy is it delicious.

Step Away from the Van

Today was one of those days which, had it been my first day, may have put me off children's theatre for ever.

Show one was fine. Arrived and allowed in early, nice relaxed set-up, and apart from my microphone continuing to not work and at one point my having to stop singing to prevent a mouthful of phlegm from flying into a child's face, it was a good performance.

And then we had the afternoon school. It was trouble from the word go. We pulled the van into the playground at precisely the moment the break bell rang. We were quickly mobbed by obnoxious, idiotic children who's inability to follow simple instructions made me ponder just how much trouble I would get into if I were to  throw them onto the roof.. probably a lot, so I resorted to asking them sternly to stay away from the van. Even when one of the little brats kicked the van I resisted my primal urge to grab and fling them a considerable distance. I felt something I don't often experience - anger. True anger is a rare emotion for me, and boy was I seething at these kids. Of course, I couldn't take it out on them, and I could hardly shout at the teachers, so I took the only path open to me; I channelled the anger into Hook and gave my best damned performance yet. My glare could have shriveled sunflowers, my laugh would have had the Thames frozen in fear, and my kicks practically took out the ceiling tiles.

All in all, a good result, since we had an unexpected visit from the company and weren't aware until after the show. Can't deny my legs hurt after that can-can though..

Roaring Fires and Cups of Tea

Today is one of those days that demonstrates all that is good about the glamorous life of an actor.

Both of today's shows were straightforward (well, aside from the second show being on a stage thinner than my little finger) and this evening has been delightful. I got the costumes in the wash (no hassle). Lit a fire (hot stuff). Got dinner in the oven (masterchef, right here). Costumes in the drier (boom). Dinner served (like a boss). Evening: success. Tea, anyone?

Washed Up

Eventually I'll manage a bed time of around 9pm again, insuring that I get plenty of sleep. But not tonight.

This week I'm on costume wash duty, a fairly easy post which comprises of washing the sweaty costumes in the evening and having them dried in time for tomorrow's performances. Well, in my signature style, I manage to make this simple task infinitely more difficult for myself. This morning I forgot one of my pairs of trousers, so Captain Hook's leg wear bore a striking resemblance to Mr. Darling's. This evening, the washer and drier were being used by another cottage resident so we had to wait until their seemingly endless wash had finished before we could use the machine. That, coupled with my need for clean undergarments, lead to a rather late night for yours truly. Ah well, at least I get a  small lie-in tomorrow.

On the Bonnie Banks

This week we're back in Scotland, and although the rehearsals were lovely we had long days and very little time to relax (apart from the gratuitous drinking time), plus for the past four weeks we had been staying in a slightly cramped B&B, all together this compiled into a ridiculous level of excitement as we pulled up to this week's accommodation - holiday cottages in the Scottish lowlands overlooking fields and a huge loch. Beautiful doesn't even cover it.

Exquisite. To add to the excellence of the situation, another team is inhabiting a neighbouring cottage - the team which just so happens to contain Grace's boyfriend, which was an emotional and happy coincidence. Apart from the rather typical British autumn rain, this looks to be a delightful week.

Timber!

The meaner they are, the harder they fall...

The opening lines of our finale song (Pitbull's 'Timber') have never been more appropriate. Today I fell in spectacular fashion whist meandering backstage.

It was a simple walk, one which I've done every show so far, I cross the back of the stage to reach my discarded clothes and re-dress (just accept the premise and move on). I usually end up shoving into Grace, dressed as Tick-Toc, on my way through the curtain so on this occasion I attempted to apologise. She still had her crocodile head on and was working the sound desk, an amusing sight which momentarily distracted my face. My legs were far more stubborn and continued on their path. However without my face to warn them of upcoming obstacles, they were essentially just stuck on 'forward'. I didn't see the step set in the narrow gap backstage at all. My legs managed to find it though, and, though I have very strong legs, found it to be a worthy opponent. After a split-second of combat, my legs conceded defeat and sent me, flailing, over the step with a sound not dissimilar to someone throwing a drum kit into a tornado.

Once the commosion had ceased I found myself lying on my back laughing silently. Fortunately both I and the step were completely unharmed, though we didn't half give everyone else a fright, especially Joe and Emily who were left on-stage guessing at what horrors may await them upon their exit.

Eventually I regained my clothes, but my dignity may never recover. Honestly I'm still chuckling to myself now as I fall asleep.

Timber...

The Pain Relocates

I love my body sometimes. Not in the way most commercials tell me to, I'm perfectly comfortable with my shape, size, etc. No, I love my body for the insane ways it manages to injure itself.

Today, before breakfast, I went to fill Uma Thermos with warm water (in preparation for tea) and as I bent over the sink, my right shoulder decided to take industrial action. Since my shoulder is not currently registered with a union, the action consisted of causing a ridiculous level of agony for no apparent reason. I was at the same time glad and disappointed that I was alone in the kitchen, because whilst nobody was there to witness my pained expression and difficulty of movement, it would be incredibly difficult to explain the circumstances of my 'injury' to the team without evidence.

Long story short, the pain has eased as the day progressed and we managed to find some co-codamol to help it along during tomorrow's shows. Never rains, but it pours, eh?

Oh the Pain

Today was our first (but likely not last) doctors visit. Grace and I hunted down a nearby walk-in centre to try and find cures for our persistent ailments. For dignity's sake I won't go into detail, but our respective diagnoses made us both feel like old crones.

Tomorrow we have a double in the morning and then a normal show in the afternoon. It is unlikely, but our hope is to find some sort of chemist or pharmacy during lunch to grab some high-strength painkillers, else we may have trouble surviving the next few weeks..

The next person to tell me that acting must be 'such a glamorous lifestyle' gets to experience exactly how I feel right now.

Sew Many Costumes...

Sewing is one of the many activities I deem should be left to machines. Along with car manufacturing and finding Sarah Conner. Alas, one of the less glamorous factors in an acting career is costume maintenance. Although in many standalone theatres there may be entire departments dedicated to washing, repairing and general costume upkeep, on the road it is one of our many jobs. Which means, when my base costume layer (Hook's underwear) developed a drastic tear reaching from the small of my back down to my left thigh, it was my job to stitch it back together.

The experience has not revived a long-lost love of sewing, nor has it encouraged me to mend my own clothes in the future; it has simply confirmed that my hands are far too big to be of any use other than for eating, lifting, and high-fiving. I may be more delicate with my future movements to avoid further seam-splitting.

Or I may man up and keep on threading the needle.

Testing, One Two

The above could have saved us a lot of bother today, but in school one (as in many schools) we don't have time for microphone checks. This is usually not anyone's fault; the teachers simply assume that because a set has mystically built itself in the hall that this is their cue to usher their horde of young people in to watch us tread the boards.

Of course, had we done a mic check, it would have been obvious that my little black mouthpiece wasn't transmitting my velvety voice to the big black speakers either side of the stage. It became apparent halfway though the show, and since it was a small hall and there was no way to fix it quickly, we just went with it.

As I blog more and more you may notice less and less mention of the show itself, simply because there are only so many things to say, or things to (touch wood) go wrong. Today is the first example of such, because today I looked in the mirror and to my brain's astonishment uttered the words, 'my shoulders look great.' Odd thing to say, even for me, but they really do. I didn't even know shoulders could look lean or toned. By the end of the tour I'll be more like Chris Pratt than William Shatner, and I'm looking forward to that.

Survival of the Fittest

"Get the one at the back, she's a scaredy cat."
"Dindorf, you bastard!"
"Sorry Grace, survival of the fittest and all that, have fun!"

This was just one brief outburst which occurred when half of Team Tomato (Grace and me) plus special guests Charlotte and Ben took on the York Maze Hallowscream, which is very aptly named. (The remainder of Team Tomato, having spent a delightful day of eating, drinking, and merriment with us in York, had booked themselves a nice relaxed date night. I can't say I blame them.)

The York Maze Hallowscream event is a long-running institution with a well-deserved reputation for terror. Which it delivers in droves. I love it. Being a gentle giant, I don't get scared easily (unless you count spiders, falling, or certain video games) so it's great fun to lead the procession of wimps around a horror maze. At points I genuinely jumped out of my skin and without exaggeration one particular encounter caused me to cling to Charlotte to the point of causing her pain. It's a good thing she loves me.

It's Friday Once Again

Shows: good.

Post-show food, drink, and company: exquisite, if somewhat decadent.

Verdict: sleep now.

Along Came a Spider

Today a number of amusing things happened. The most interesting didn't directly involve me.

Grace, who manages to play five different characters in the show, demonstrated that all animals can co-exist, and even perform together, in harmony. Well, sort of. Unbeknownst to me, Tick-Tic the Crocodile stepped onto stage with what was described as a 'massive' spider on his head. This was made even more amusing as, during the following scene, Emily and I were backstage hunting for said spider amongst the discarded costume. Our efforts were in vain, and caused us to miss a sound cue, which was even more amusing because Grace and Joe were on stage dramatically listening for said cue.

Live theatre, eh? Bugs and all.

Put Your Hands Together

Lots happened today. It was Gemma's last day with us, which was a bit sad. We had a rather hectic couple of get-ins, but nothing Team Tomato couldn't handle. My personal favourite moment of the day was during the finale of our second show. Our closing voiceover asked everyone to "put their hands together for the cast of this magical pantomime!" Two girls near the front took this very literally, pressing their hands together as if in prayer and looking very confused when everyone around them began to applaud vigorously. Absolutely adorable.

And to top it off, Stardust is on Film4. Perfect end to the day.

Everything was Going so Well

And then it slowly starts to break down.. oh don't get your hopes up, the team are doing fine and I'm nowhere near throwing in the towel. The same may not be said for some of our equipment though. Wheels askew here, brackets snapping there, hooks falling out of things (thankfully not my character's namesake), it's all crumbling before my very eyes!

Do we despair? My dear minions, we are ac-tors (the hyphen is for exaggerated pronunciation)! When the going gets tough we roll up our sleeves, grab a roll of gaffa tape, proclaim that "the show must go on!" to no-one in particular, and knuckle down for the ride.

And damned if it's not a jolly good ride!

The Fifth Man (is a Woman)

Today, the group became hugely unbalanced in favour of the fairer sex. Joe, needing to take his leave for a couple of days, is being temporarily replaced by Gemma, a woman. Not that I'm complaining. Of course I do miss our Joe already, but things aren't so bad here. I mean yes we did have to do a run of more or less the entire show this evening, we have to do a couple of runs of the sword fight before tomorrow's shows, and heaven only knows what the dances will look like, but that's the fun of it! For a couple of days we move out of comfortable, happy, straightforward show and into panic, hit the deck, adrenaline-junkie show!

This gets better and better.

Eat Fresh and Uma Thermos

Today, we had what could probably be described as a near perfect day. Starting with a pretty standard call time of 7am, we drove to Bradford once again. We had been down this particular road before, literally, so we left early to accommodate the M62's hideous morning traffic.

We got to the school - one of the oldest school buildings in Britain, and very nice - nice and early, had a nice easy get-in, and performed our first show to the younger years. And then, we went off for lunch. Well, we re-set to the beginning of the show, but we didn't have to pack down the set, didn't have to drive anywhere, just made sure there was nothing dangerous lying around and went to Subway. A perfect way to spend a Friday, and then we managed to pack up quickly and easily after show two and get on home.

Which is where Uma Thermos (my new one-litre flask) shines. It is so worth getting up 5 minutes earlier when the reward is a steaming mug of tea - or five - on the drive home.

As if that weren't enough, we're having dinner at Frankie & Benny's. Happy Friday, everyone!

The Rejection

As I push away my plate after my second helping of tuna pasta bake (an absolutely marvellous creation if I say so myself) and The Big Bang Theory credits roll, I reflect on the day we've had. It wasn't the easiest, but it was rather fun.

We showed up to our morning school in plenty of time, we were relaxed and ready for a nice day. However, t'was not to be. Alarm bells were raised when Joe did not return from his traditional introduction for 20 minutes. On his return, he briefly explained that due to a diary error on the school's part we were not expected until next week. As such, they didn't want us there. Now in some companies this may have meant a morning off for us, but M&M aren't that lazy. We were being paid, and by hook or by crook we would perform for it! Long story short, they found a school nearby who were happy to have us, albeit through two gates which required key fobs (which we had one of between four of us) and in an incredibly small hall.

I respect M&M for that. They could easily have swindled us on pay (like some people I've worked for, who shall remain nameless), but instead we were able to provide a joyous surprise to a group of children and teachers alike. That's what this job is all about, and that's why I'm increasingly proud to be a part of it.

Chilli con Quorne

Yesterday was our first on-the-road team meal, cooked by Joe and Emily. The vegetarian variation on chilli featured quorn, an array of vegetables and beans, and served with rice. I can honestly say it was bloody delicious. First time I'd eaten quorn as well, and overall a very good first impression.

I'm not going to quit meat any time soon, but I wouldn't be adverse to trying more meat substitute products. Just don't give me tofu.

Week Two: Currently Under Construction

Week the second is under way and with two days down I'd say we're all feeling pretty good. Nothing particular happened yesterday, plus I was quite tired so nothing appeared here. Well, to put it in perspective: the talking point of the day was my consumption of four large custard doughnuts. Exciting times!

Today was very much business as usual, smooth get-ins and -outs, some irritating traffic and tight school corridors, but overall nothing untoward. The team are still fabulous and friendly as ever, we function very much like a traditional family unit. The patriarchal father in Joe, our Tour Manager; the kind, loving mother in Emily (who also happens to be in a relationship with Joe, further strengthening the metaphor); and the children, Grace and I, looking to them for guidance in an unfamiliar world. How lovely.

For now.

Like any traditional family unit, we'll end up with dinner table arguments, curfews, and denials of TV privileges by the end of it; but for now I'm enjoying the peace and relaxation.

Now I must be off, it's past my bed time.

TGIF

Why do we even need a weekend break? I could do this seven days a week!

This is the little naïve voice in my head which I roll my eyes at, ignore, and promptly collapse into a tub of pasta bake.

To say I'm looking forward to the weekend is an understatement akin to Romeo kind of liking Juliet. The first week of schools is over, 12 shows have gone rather without issue, I'm going to York tomorrow, and I can not wake up before 7am for two whole mornings in a row!

Don't be offended if I don't update you until Sunday evening. I'll be too busy relaxing.

Day-ja Two

As you may have guessed by the incredibly imaginative and clever title, today was much like yesterday. In fact it was nearly an exact copy. If I didn't know better I would have expected Sunny and Cher to be playing on my alarm, and other such Bill Murry film references.

All in all, a good day. Our get-in and -out times have dramatically improved over the past week and we (yes, I'm presumptuous enough to speak for everyone) are feeling more confident by the day. And tomorrow is Friday. Huzzah!

The Daily Double!

Today we had our first experience of a 'double', aptly named in that the morning was spent doing two shows in one school before pelting it to a second school for our third show. All in all, a rather exhausting day, but it is nice to know we can get through it, as tomorrow we're doing exactly the same thing!

There are brief moments when I wonder whether I really want to be an actor my whole life. Then the audience boo's at the very sight of me and I think, what else would I ever want to do?

Two for Tuesday!

I've had a lovely day in Barnsley.. ahem, I mean BAHHHHHNS-LE!

That's better. Two lovely and lively schools, very reactive audiences, teachers clapping and singing along. That said, I got a very odd feeling of déjà vu during our second show. I'm convinced that every school in that particular city has the exact same hall design. Right down to the climbing frames and kitchen dividers, the halls were identical. On the plus side, it meant we knew exactly how to set up the second time round.

Dinner was good ol' Domino's, shared with Grace, and now I'm becoming wide-eyed watching people falling over on You've Been Framed. So far, tour is treating me well.

Never a Dull Moment

Well, Hull's school system has had a taste of Peter Panto and the feedback has been lovely. Bit of distance between Wakefield and Hull, which made for a very early call time and rather a surprise when I woke up as the van was passing the Merchant Navy Hall (it should be noted that I had no idea we were going to Hull). The memories came flooding back, weekends in town, perusing Prince's Quay, the railway station, the Toys R Us. That excited me the most.

Oh and the shows went well. Almost flattened two of my co-stars by tripping into our set, but they didn't notice so no harm no foul!

Like Greased Lightning

On the road again... I'm so glad to be on the road again...

Yes today we have taken to the road in search of fame, fortune, and our first school performance tomorrow. Since we have a lengthy journey to get through, I thought I'd give an honest testimony of my time with M&M up to this point. It goes without saying that these are my opinions and don't necessarily reflect the views or opinions of anyone else.

The experience has been on of the most exhausting, physically challenging, emotionally charged ventures I have ever undertaken. The bags under my eyes would incur excess charges if I tried to board a flight and my body aches in places I didn't know could ache. All of those things, and many more, have made it a truly incredible experience. Gruelling, yes, but absolutely worthwhile.

Rehearsals over, I cannot wait to start performing to the intended audience. What's our call time tomorrow? 6:40am. So I have to wake up at around half 5. Why am I still awake?!

And, Relax

Rehearsals are done. The past two weeks have been nothing short of life-changing. Not in a spirit-quest, take some strange pills and talk to God kind of way, but in a we-just-put-a-show-together-in-two-weeks kind of feeling.

Tonight we drink, tomorrow I'll talk more about the whole experience. Post-final-dress rehearsal (in front of the entire company) I'm a bit knackered.

One Day More

Tomorrow is our final day of preparation before we hit the road on Sunday. I can't deny that I'm nervous. We've been together rehearsing this show for a grand total of 11 days, and on Monday we will be taking it into schools around the country and that will be that.

Who are we kidding, I'm terrified. And the adrenaline is a-mazing.

The Time Draws Near

We finished it. We finally bloody got to the last page of the script and the end of the bloody show. Now, we have to add the costumes in, make sure the lighting changes are all at the right speed. Oh and we've just been given a new soundboard so we're learning how to play with that on the final days of rehearsal.

Our final dress rehearsal is on Saturday, the final of all the dresses, the one which everyone will see, and which many outsiders shall be witnessing. But no pressure. None at all.

So Near, So Far

It is rather scary to think that it is a matter of days before we are sent out onto the road with our little show. And today is our last full rehearsal day. Nervous is a bit of an understatement. This company has completely streamlined this process, which makes sense as they've been doing it for years. The result is a combination of exhaustion, fear and pride, and I just hope that it's all worth it in the end.

Look Out, He's Got a Sword!

Yesterday was long. Far too long to actually write anything. I apologize. And today I'm bloody knackered still so I'll keep it brief.

Today I was handed a rapier. 30 seconds later, I was clashing it against another rapier in a simple but extensive battle routine. We got halfway through today and we'll finish it. Overall rehearsals are going well.

What, you want clandestine wit and charm every day? Go read the metro. Sometimes you will just have to accept that I get tired. I'm only human! Stop demanding so much of me! I'm just one (incredibly talented and marvellous) man...

The Day Off

To be frank, this wasn't a day off we deserved, it was one we required. More of a necessity after a week of gruelling work than a reward. Granted, the reward was last night's drinking shenanigans.

Whilst the rest of the team spent their whole day lounging on the sofa and watching Friends, I was much more active: after five hours of watching Friends and eating leftover pizza, biscuits and anything I could fit into my hand - and then my mouth - I strolled to the beach for a swim. Which was more of a paddle as the water was no more than knee-deep and cold enough to make a snowman shiver. Still, saltwater makes my hair look bloody fabulous.

One of Those Mornings

Yes, one of those mornings where you wake up with little recollection of actually getting to bed, a massive half-eaten pizza lying on the dining table, and two missed calls plus a voicemail on your phone.. and then it slowly begins to trickle back to you. The wine, the beer, the Sex on the Beach bucket, tequila, vodka and coke, yet more tequila, it's all there in the back of your mind. But through it all one thought permeates the fold: what a night.

Luckily today is our day off.

Buttery Biscuit Base

Any show that can include Masterchef Synaesthesia in the track list gets a huge thumbs up in my book! And as such, Peter Pan is getting that thumb stuck right up it's review pipe from me. Today saw one of my - and the whole team's - busiest days, including the show's biggest scene change, the introduction of the Captain himself! Finally I am allowed to get to grips with one of the most recognizable villains of literary, cinematic and theatrical history.

And he is fabulous.

He Can Fly!

Today the grand adventure became a masterpiece magnificent enough to make Da Vinci blush. We made Emily fly without any wire at all, we made a fairy fly with plenty of wire, and Grace fell up the stairs. Twice. It was a feat of utmost poignancy and grace (pun intended).

And then there was the set. Good Lord I haven't done so much manual labour since I moved house in America.. I swear if I'm not actually built like Chris Hemsworth by the end of this tour I'll be demanding my money back... From someone... Maybe East Coast trains...

Everything is Awesome

For some unfathomable reason, Joe doesn't like this particular part of our show. Unfortunately he is forced to sing it with yours truly, a man who not only has the song on every media device he owns, but often uses it as a ringtone and alarm. Who sings it in the shower, in the car, and in all manner of inappropriate situations. Ah well, Joe's a good sport and a damned decent manager.

Sunrise starts and sunset finishes will surely take their toll by the end of the week, but for now I'm happy, energetic, and eating rather better than I have done for a long time! If I ever end up in my less-than-ideal 9 to 5 work environment, at least I'll be content in the knowledge that I can cook daily meals with little to no effort on my part. He says, having done so for two whole days.

In the Mood for Dancing

Today, something incredible happened. I danced. For the first time since.. well if we consider that nothing I've ever done in a dingy club would count as 'dancing', then the last time I danced was 2008. Needless to say, today was an experience.

And yet, somehow, I actually managed to pick it up with relative ease. I was jumping, swinging, side-stepping my way through Pitbull's "Timber" with very few mistakes, at least after the 7th conservative run-through. And singing all the while. All in all, a very successful second day.

Oh, also, I cooked dinner and not only are they all still alive, but they actually seemed to enjoy it. I shall have to add more anthrax next time...

The Old Library

Whilst this could be an excellent title and setting for some sort of horror short story, it is, in truth, where I find myself this morning - waiting in the registration area for the staff who run the registration to appear. Yes, that's right, I managed to arrive at the venue before the staff who run this venue. Clever me.

Although I must say it is rather spooky in here in its own right. Bits of set leaning against all available wall space, half of the room divided off by a maze of black curtains, and an eerie scilence cut through by a buzzing light fitting to really drive the mood home.

And so begins my latest theatrical journey.

Welcome to Scotland, Here's Your Smack

Am I making a reference to the rampant drug abuse or the violence which comes with the territory? Either way I'm seteotyping, so I'll let you make your own opinions on that one.

You know, many people say many things about acting; it must be difficult, it sounds exciting, never a dull moment. But there is one dull moment.. one moment of such unfathomable tedium that every actor puts it off, usually to their detriment. That moment is the simple act of line learning without a scene partner. Gods it is so dull.

You sit, for example, on a train, crammed into your seat by a snoring businessman beside you, unable to speak aloud because you journey partner would probably take offense, reciting lines in your head. Lines which mean nothing without a voice or an audience or the second half of your double-act! Nothing but you and your head, which is why I cannot wait until tomorrow, when I'll meet other people with the same script, and hopefully none of them will be falling asleep during scenes.