Rowdy, randy, retired.


Chris of Dightonland will be arriving in Heidelberg in only a couple of days. So, true to form, Heidelberg has decided it’s going to piss down with the rain water from above. There I was, counting those chickens and mocking the UK’s mid-July hailstorms, when lo and behold, Heidelberg decides to have a weather tantrum. Sorry guys, it’s all my fault.

“As You Like It” is in full force, last night being the first performance I walked away actually genuinely happy. The last few times have felt like “Laurence putting on a performance” rather than being the actual character itself, which for a character spewing nothing but expository speeches, isn’t the easiest thing I grant you, but fuck it, last night was beyond ace. Made complete when I was approached by the Director and Secretary of a theatre group from the UK. Having seen my performance in “Love Bites”, the secretary had encouraged the director to attend “As You Like It”, and they approached me afterward asking if I’d like to be involved in an acting project next year. Celebrating the 400th anniversary of the wedding between a British King and Heidelberg Princess, an Anglo-Germanic production is being put in place to tour from the UK to Germany, utilising talent from Heidelberg Uni and UEA, the latter of which just happens to be the uni I wish to apply to for a Masters. So yes, mega yay to that, I look forward to seeing this project unfold as the months progress.

So, I’m writing a novel set across one year. Non-linear, it was going to be told in weeks. Week 1, 2, 4, 8, 6, 10, etc. with revelations being made from the returning weeks. However, it’s getting hard to maintain the momentum of week after week, having to end each chapter naturally, skip a few days and maintain the mood. Whilst I like the episodic-part-of-a-larger-arc style, I feel the pace is slowing. So am considering restructuring it into days; Oct15th, Oct16th, Oct20th, Nov12th, Oct19th, etc. which each of these days being a page or so. Very James Patterson, bite size chunks. The question to ask is, would this be too particular and specific to be followed for what is meant to be an easily digestible story? I don’t exactly want to give my readers a literary stomachache…


Summer Heights Nigh


Regardless of when our production may be set, I think it would be suitably anachronistic to be playing with a smart phone on stage. For this reason in last night’s test performance on stage, I ducked my phone out of view somewhere backstage. And there it stayed. Hopefully I can pick it up but having no phone, this makes arranging to meet somewhat difficult. Alas poor iPhone, I knew you brief. The performance on the hand was great fun, getting to have fun on the stage was a good experience of progression as it enabled us to see what quite works and what doesn’t; the Keller stage is very weird. And yay, I only forgot one line. That’s… Ok, right?

The Euro Cup is well underway, with Germany hitting in a wicked win against holland last night. I had been rehearsing during the England game but was told in a delightful phone call from Isabel that apparently the second half was soporific to say the least. Mind you, this was a phone call made before I had left my phone in the theatre. Though that would have been skilful.

So today is the second day of the End Of Year Show back in Surrey. Hopefully they’re enjoying the Skream, Feeder and other gig nights that are going on. Not to mention the obliteratingly wonderful hog roast on PATs field which everyone should totally go to for a good porking. Beyond conception is the idea that those smelly british lot are finishing their year whilst I have another 2 months to go. That’s a point, I’ve confirmed my return; 16th August shall see my final morning under the Heidelberg sun. Or Heidelberg rain, cloud or sleet. Nothing surprises me anymore. And then it shall be driving back to Britain, to do… I’m not quite sure what.

Hmm, I should probably start making plans.

Rehearsal Reversal


If there’s on issue I really should get over in regards to my short sightedness, it’s squinting at a figure I may believe to be a friend, but upon conclusion that it is indeed a fellow amigo, making no gesture or action, leaving the friend to believe I have just glared at them and then walked off with an unnecessarily big smile on my face. (the smile is just because walking is awesome.

In view of this time of weird facial expressions and odd movement en mass, Saturday and Sunday were the heralds of our glorious rehearsal weekend. A time I knew would be coming and yet never really prepared for. Indeed, not actually buckling down to learn my lines until that morning, because Shakespeare is clearly so easy to improv. Given this, I’m almost impressed I learned the lines in such a short space of time, but then again, I really should have started learning a lot earlier and then there wouldn’t have been he muff ups that there were. Having had 3 rehearsals since my return in February, it really still is amazingly difficult adapting from the intense 3-rehearsals-week-whether-you-like-it-or-not. It shouldn’t be and yet I am the only one who views our performance being a month away as being absolutely ages.

Truth, I can’t say I was impressed with my performances this weekend over. The rest of he cast were wonderfully fantastic, in dress, thumb wrestling or banging away on a delightful ukelele. Being on the fragility of recently learned lines and no fully absorbed verse, each portrayal was frantic and overexcited, something I did deliberately just to have a laugh as I still can’t take these sessions seriously. The “fear” in which I actually take a production seriously has yet to kick in. Push the role to its extremes and the roll it back in is something I like to play around with if I get the time. Even if this did make it seems like my character had taken a does of ecstasy before hitting stage like an udder-dry lionness…

With “Love Bites” right around the corner, it looks as if I’m going to be living in the Romanische Keller for a good month or so, jumping from production to production. Hopefully the temptation to slip into iambic pentameter when talking about dead cats, or getting ready to be whipped by a dominatrix whilst fighting my surly younger brother can be resisted. Until then, get on with the lines, remember the evil people don’t jump and try not to tease a fake boob. For now however, it is to the shisha bar with the Anne to the De and whatever adventures may be waiting us on this Tuesday night.