It's Curtains for you, Chap!

Sewing curtains is not the most exciting job in the world. In fact, I'm listing it among my least exciting and enjoyable activities. It must be done, of course, and I've been mildly aware of this from very early on; during the tour I have therefore been taking extreme care with the show's most unnoticed set pieces. However I cannot prevent natural wear and tear, so we have all been threading needles and stitching these masses of fabric with all the elegant grace of a cat with its head stuck in a bag. (I speak for my personal sewing skills here, not those of the team as a whole.)

Of course, we are sewing because soon the curtains will soon be shielding an entirely new cast from the prying eyes of eager spectators, and covering covert scenery transformations for a different show (most likely Oliver) as Peter Pan is nearing his final voyage to Neverland. I can't say I wish I had longer, honestly I'm ready to go home now, but I've had the most wonderful time here and am looking forward to touring again in the future. So, up and over boys! Time for the final push.

Who's Idea Was Cocktails..?

Today : birthday of the Scotty one.. nickname Cuddles, actual name Jillian. I made cocktails, which were delicious, and am now too drunk for anything requiring more than minimal brain function. Alas, no grand blog this night.

Ciao.

The Last Man Standing

I am now officially the only male member of what was formally Team Tomato (now Team Peter Cover), Joe having been replaced by Faye on Monday and now Molly (who you may remember previously covered for Joe some months back) for the remainder of our tour.

This is rather delightful on my part. Obviously I did love Joe, bloody top chap that he was, and I miss Grace dearly. Now, however, I carry the mantra of being Man of the Team, a rather amusing title as anyone who's ever met me will appreciate. The ironic fact of the matter is I get along exceedingly well with groups of girls, and I've found that my ability to give half decent back and shoulder massages becomes a useful currency when my costume needs sewing. Current exchange rates are rather flexible, as honestly I'll give someone a massage for making me a cup of tea, but it's already helped repair two pieces of my costume. Maybe I've made the wrong career choice after all.

Snow Days and Farewells

A lot has occurred this week. Let us begin on Wednesday evening.

For a start, this evening saw me on the phone more often than the cumulative total of the past decade. I'm still trying to figure out how as one phone call ended another seemed to spring up.. but besides that, and far more interestingly, Grace's cover arrived in the form of a little Edinburgh lass by the name of Jillian. Of course, because of my sudden phone popularity, I didn't get much chance to properly meet her until Thursday.

Nice segway there, and on to Thursday morning: a school with one of my least favourite halls ever encountered. A hall so awkwardly shaped that I had to remove three curtains from their rails and string them up with gaffa tape and prayer, with wings so cramped that you had to leave extra time to edge through the gaps before your entrance. I was not having a good day. The show went ahead without much issue, other than a lot of confusion when trying to exit the stage, but I found myself thoroughly exhausted by the end of it, to the point where I found it necessary to sit down whilst undressing. Joe then complimented me on my energy, in a show in which I thought I'd performed on a sub-par level.. the lesson apparently being that if I'm unhappy before the show the end result is better and I finish up in a tired heap. Read into that what you will. Then at lunchtime things took an interesting turn.

Snow, the kind I hadn't seen since my last ski holiday, was buffering the Tescos we were sat in having lunch. We got a call from the office letting us know the afternoon's school had decided to close due to the inclement (thank you TFL for that excellent word) weather. Immediately we were preparing for battle stations. A last-minute booking could mean a long drive and rushed set-up. Then Joe started dancing in his seat, and after thanking the office, we were given the afternoon off. A blessing and a curse, as it did mean that Jillian couldn't watch the show from backstage as planned. But we had time to get home, relax and then do a full run-through working out her tech and lines.

Friday was an all-day-double, which we were all very thankful for as it was Grace and Joe's last day and emotions were running high. The audiences were fantastic; the teachers some of the friendliest yet; and, for the first time in about 18 years, I had an English school dinner. And I can safely say standards have vastly improved. The end of the shows was sad, but we focused ourselves on getting packed up and home to clean the house in preparation for today's move.

Today was the hardest part. The five of us herded into the van with all our worldly goods and set off. Stopping off at a train station, our goodbyes were short and sweet as Joe and Grace set off on the next steps of their journey, and the three of us continued on ours. To possibly the biggest accommodation we've had for the entire tour. Seriously it is huge. And gorgeous. I could happily holiday here in the middle of nowhere. But that's another story.

Previously in Peter Pan

This blog is coming dangerously close to adopting a weekly post status. This has been due to a number of things, including my desire to get earlier nights and an attempt to not use my phone before bed. I've also been feeling a little down lately, and I'm not entirely sure why. So, a recap of recent noteworthy events:

A boy in a special needs school made us all cards and flowers for the show, a gesture which threatened to melt my normally granite heart.

In another school, a child wrote the word 'shit' in the dirt on our van. Unlucky for him, a teacher was walking past the door and caught him in the act. He got some classic primary school teacher speeches (why did you do it, were you trying to make people laugh, what do you think your dad will say, etc) and had to wipe the profanity off with a paper towel. That evening we washed the van.

Joe spent the weekend on a mandatory trip to Butlins with the other TMs and I went to a school reunion in London (read all about that in my other blog. Hint: lots of drinking.)

And today I serenaded a teacher who's face looked as though I was presenting her with a plate of dead rat. The teacher sat beside her was absolutely howling.

We're now into Joe and Grace's last week (which may have something to do with my current state of mind; that combined with a month without internet leaves me rather in the dumps) and I'm going to miss them dearly. As my first team I'll always have fond memories and maintain that I couldn't have asked for three better people to live and work with for six months on the road. The silver lining is that in two and a half weeks I will be in York and then back to London and civilization. How times flies.

Previously in Peter Pan

This blog is coming dangerously close to adopting a weekly post status. This has been due to a number of things, including my desire to get earlier nights and an attempt to not use my phone before bed. I've also been feeling a little down lately, and I'm not entirely sure why. So, a recap of recent noteworthy events:

A boy in a special needs school made us all cards and flowers for the show, a gesture which threatened to melt my normally granite heart.

In another school, a child wrote the word 'shit' in the dirt on our van. Unlucky for him, a teacher was walking past the door and caught him in the act. He got some classic primary school teacher speeches (why did you do it, were you trying to make people laugh, what do you think your dad will say, etc) and had to wipe the profanity off with a paper towel. That evening we washed the van.

Joe spent the weekend on a mandatory trip to Butlins with the other TMs and I went to a school reunion in London (read all about that in my other blog. Hint: lots of drinking.)

And today I serenaded a teacher who's face looked as though I was presenting her with a plate of dead rat. The teacher sat beside her was absolutely howling.

We're now into Joe and Grace's last week (which may have something to do with my current state of mind; that combined with a month without internet leaves me rather in the dumps) and I'm going to miss them dearly. As my first team I'll always have fond memories and maintain that I couldn't have asked for three better people to live and work with for six months on the road. The silver lining is that in two and a half weeks I will be in York and then back to London and civilization. How times flies.

Bobbing Along

I haven't written anything up this week because, in all honesty, nothing new has happened. Nothing has stuck with me so dramatically that I felt the urge to put thumb to screen and share it with you, I do apologize.

However, now we are in the final few weeks of Peter Pan, and change is in the air. As it happens, the other three team members are continuing on to perform in the M&M summer shows (I'm spending some time settling more permanently in London before dashing back to the road again), and circumstances of a rather interesting and somewhat complicated nature mean that Joe and Grace will both be leaving Team Tomato two weeks earlier than planned to begin rehearsals for their new shows, leaving Emily and me to do the entire show alone! All right, not entirely alone, we will in fact have two new performers for the final weeks and Emily is being promoted to Tour Manager (cue the party poppers and prossecco). But we don't have to even think about that for at least another week, and as it happens I'm in London this weekend for a good old reunion. More about that over on the London blog.

One of Those Days

Imagine a day where lots of things that could easily go wrong suddenly go horribly wrong at the same time. I shall attempt to recount the events in chronological order.

The Great Set Migration
We arrived at the morning school, were shown in and started setting up, we were quite relaxed as we were early, the hall was big, everything was going to plan. Until the head teacher walked in saying, "Well we won't be able to fit them in there." After a very brief discussion we realized we had to move the entire set (completely show-ready at this point) onto the school's stage. Which means dismantling the entire thing and reassembling it about ten feet back and three feet up. Luckily we had a few extra pairs of hands roped on to 'help' us. When I say help, I mean they had the best intentions, but they hadn't been putting the set together for the best part of 5 months, and didn't know what to do with anything you gave them. But we managed, did a show to the packed hall, and it wasn't the worst of stages in fairness.

The Final Step
In the finale, Smee was a bit slow coming up the steps. My deductive skills began to whir when she wasn't jumping about like a loon during the final part of the dance, and when, after the show, she was lying on the floor and clutching her foot with a look of pained agony on her face, I began to think something might be wrong. She assumed (based on prior experience) that it may be a torn ligament, so we sat her down and put an ice-pack on her and did the get-out (again with help from the eager extra hands) before carrying her to the van.

It's in My Jeans
During the aforementioned get-out, I fell over into the van and tore my jeans. This is the third pair which have fallen pray to the dreaded lifestyle of the actor. I did the second get-in/-out with a large hole in my left thigh. Nobody mentioned it.

Slim Pickings
To say the second hall was narrow would probably give you the wrong idea. We've done narrow halls and narrower stages before, but this was different. At a guess, the hall was maybe 12 feet wide. The back base of our set probably measures around eight or nine feet, each of the spinning bases measure about five feet. Needless to say that our scenery wasn't going to be flush with the audience. However when we started the show, we found that when the spinning bases are spun together there was about a foot of space between the set and the wall, and I've got very broad shoulders. Between that and Smee supporting herself on a mop during her stage time, it was one of the most ridiculous performaces we've ever done.

So ends the day, as we sit patiently - pun int.. oh wait, hang on - in the walk-in centre - pun intended! - waiting for x-ray results and snacking on a pile of supplies I bought at lunchtime. Could be worse. Could be raining indoors.

The Best of Days, The Worst of Days

The entire title is ridiculously exaggerated, to be honest. The past two days have fallen into neither category, but they've contrasted one another rather starkly.

Monday was an all-day-double. One of those glorious days which mean long shows, long lunchtime, and relaxed atmosphere. Nothing particularly amazing happened, but it was a good start to the week. Today was a normal double-day, which we were dreading. It meant a pre-7am call time (translating to a 6am alarm time), a drive to Shrewsbury (well over an hour away), a get-in, two shows, getting out at speeds approaching that of light, a frantic half-hour dash to out next school, and then when we got there we sat down and had tea for 20 minutes because lunch was being had in the hall. Still, the show started and finished in good time, the audiences all day were good, and aside from my legs being in agony - must stretch in the mornings - I'm feeling pretty good.

Silence of the Adam

In the ever raging war between Adam (astounding actor, dashing gentlemen, gorgeous hair) and The Voice (Adam's voice, that is; not the TV show), a valiant battle was fought this week, and Voice triumphed. Which, ironically, renders Adam mute.

This has pros and cons. Pro: Adam is far better at listening. Con: Adam cannot laugh. The list goes on, but suffice to say it does present its challenges where acting is concerned, since I depend a lot on my voice when I act. I may not be much of a dancer but when I'm on good form I can throw my voice around enough to make you dizzy. I'm being hyperbolic, but only because the written word is currently my only form of communication, and I have to use words like hyperbolic to assure myself that I've still got it. Which I do. Hopefully a weekend of pseudosilence will allow me to join the fight once more.

La-la-la-la-lasagna!

One of the things I have to admit that I have loved most about tour has been the opportunity to cook for the team. Our weekly team meal is an event we all look forward to, each taking it in turns to feed the all-consuming mass that is our collective appetite. So far my meals have been an apparent success, from my signature favourite Tuna Napolitana (substited Salmon into it for the sake of the team's personal taste) all the way to today's Quorn Lasagne (as previously mentioned, Grace is vegetarian).

I made a dish which could be divided into six modest servings, and it was completely scraped clean between the four of us - Joe and Grace almost came to blows over seconds. Even the peas were polished off with ruthless efficiency. I get one more chance to impress them before our tour ends, so suggestions on a postcard, please.

Back on The Road (II)

So two days have passed and four shows have gone smoothly. The energy levels are back up to pre-Christmas levels, the audiences are bouncing with post-Christmas sugar overdoses and the teachers are happy to have something take their minds over just how long it will be until Easter.

Of course, as is customary with me and theatre, my throat is completely opposed to my acting career and is doing all it can to sabotage me. However that did not stop me from shouting "CLAP YOUR HANDS!" into the face of a half-asleep year sixer. Poor boy nearly fell out of his seat (no exaggeration) whilst his classmates fell about laughing. Children can be so cruel.

Back on The Road (I)

As tour boots up again and the energy which has lain dormant over the Christmas period begins to flow again in full force, it may be worth letting you know what I've been up to during this literary absence. In a word: travelling. No rest for the wicked, eh? My last postcard talked of trains, ferries, and a complex travel itinerary. I cannot put into words how ridiculously long 16 hours is when you're on a coach. Even with the brief break for the ferry crossing, the journeys were arduous. Combined with 8 hours of trains the next day between Germany and Poland, I was completely travelled out by the time I finally got back to London just in time for the new year.

Back on familiar turf, I stepped back onto the bar and spent the entirety of New Year's Eve cleaning glasses (there were too many people serving on the bar for me to have been anything but an obstacle) and enjoying a couple of celebratory drinks. Then I spent a couple of days working lunches and trying my hand at table service, previously a mere pipe dream in the White Hart. Turns out I'm quite good at it, pocketing £40 worth of tips in two days. Finally with the holidays drawing to a close I hopped on a train to Derby to finish the final leg of the grand tour.

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.