Filling The Space Between

So Christmas is over for another year, and it’s that period of nothingness that subsists between December 25 and January 2. I spent the 26, 27 and 28th of December doing very little, just vegetating in front of the TV watching one banal programme after another; considering it’s the holidays there is very little on the box that interests me. So on the 29th I decided to attack the day, taking into account that on the 27th I stayed in my PJ’s from sunrise to sunset.The highlight of that day was the festive Facebook cull I had. I decided to go through my Facebook friends and delete anyone I hadn’t spoken to in 2010, and those acquaintances that you gather as the year progresses. So on the 29th as Soft Cell played ‘Her Imagination’ I washed up the dishes from the previous night, that lay in the sink. There’s nothing more miserable I think than waking up to dirty plates. As the dishes drain, the iPod shuffles and ‘Make The Call’ from the excellent White Noise album by Aussie rockers, The Living End begins to play. I make breakfast as the kitchen is filled with a beating bass line and frenetic drums.

Thank goodness for Skype, I call my friend over in Italy, and we chat about the water bill I’ve received, odd considering we have no water. Brenda says our house over there looks lonely now all the trees around it have lost their leaves. We exchange comments about the weather; UK, wet and foggy, Italy, Warm and sunny. With Othello’s green eyed monster looking over my shoulder I console myself with the fact that this time next year I’ll be there to sample it myself. I send an email to our Italian lawyers asking them to deal with the bill and to ask the commune, (Italian local council) to sort out our non working street light.

I begin to tackle the mountain of ironing that has accumulated since I’ve been away on tour. Three hours later, 43 shirts, 32 T shirts and 4 pairs of Jeans are put away. Kirsty MacColl sings, ‘Miss Otis Regrets’ as the iron is stowed away below the sink. I can’t believe it’s ten years since her life was snuffed out in a tragic, yet controversial boating accident in Mexico. I decide it’s time for some TV and a glass of homemade limoncello, the drink is satisfying, however the TV isn’t, on every channel there’s either a repeat or some saccharine seasonal tale. So once again in an attempt to fill in the void left by Christmas I top up the gap by languishing in the bath listening to music.

I look out at the street on the morning of the 30th, everything is still, cars have remained motionless for days and apart from the emergence of grey wheelie bins today, the road hibernates. So breakfast over we decide to go into town and mooch around. I was given a new wallet at Christmas, so before we leave I transfer everything out of my old but now tatty, but well loved Versace one. I throw away now redundant plastic cards that have lived in the recesses of the worn leather and discover I have a Waterstones gift card. I can’t remember who gave it to me or how long it’s been there, so now I have a task for the day, to discover just how much I have to spend on the dull grey card.

The trip up town is hardly uplifting, the so called sales are threadbare, and genuine offers are few and far between. I ponder an offer from O2 to upgrade my phone to an iPhone, I decline as I don’t think I’ll have much call for such a sophisticated mobile when I’m living a life of semi self sufficiency on an Italian hillside. I walk out of the main shopping centre and spot a boy-band lookalike, a skinnier facsimile of Marvin from JLS, a few steps later and I come face to face with a chubbier version of Shane from Boyzone. I enter Waterstones and present the bespectacled red haired youth behind the counter with my card, he checks it, tuts and shakes his head, then says, “Sorry geezer, this is run out.” My first reaction is the need to correct his grammar, and explain that the verb he should have used was has, and secondly I am not a geezer.  Turns out that the card only lasts for 24 months and mine expired a long time ago. Note to self: Tidy wallet at regular intervals in future. I leave the bookstore and almost collide with another boy-band doppelganger, this time an older version of Jay from The Wanted. All I need now is to find a taller Mark Owen, from Take That lookalike, and I can manufacture my own pop band: I think I’ll call them,  ‘ Wanted, That JLS Zone.’We drive home with the classic track ‘Going Underground,’ by The Jam playing, and as we turn the corner everything is has it has been for days, with the exception of the now removed wheelie bins, the road remains impotent.

One thing I did see today that made me smile, then wince, was a child's toy. This seemingly harmless prop was a pretend MacDonald's drive thru counter. In my opinion toys are supposed to inspire learning and fun, is this one that prepares a child for a life of working in a burger bar? There are so many messages given off and absorbed by children during play and the only ones I feel given off by a pretend Macdonald’s drive thru are negative, e.g. Fast food is good food, or it’s okay not to aspire to greater employment potential, as working for Macdonald’s is quality employment.

So new years eve has arrived and tomorrow we shall be in 2011. As the last colours of 2010 fade, I shall be spending it at a party hosted by my ex-wife. We shall no doubt drink a few glasses of wine and eat a few nibbles before letting off fireworks. I’m not a big fan of new years eve, to me the death of one year and the birth of another has never had much relevance on my life, however this year it’s different, 2010 has seen so many changes to my life and 2011 has so many challenges ahead. So I shall be throwing myself head first into tonight’s festivities and hopefully will have a clear enough head tomorrow to make a start on my first blog of the year, a review of the past twelve months. So all that remains is to wish everyone out there, a happy and healthy new year.    Baz x

Gridlock and the Giant Mechanical Snowball

Well what a week we’ve had this week, the cast had to continue putting up with the actress who plays Bella, having stroppy, hissy fits over the slightest thing. Now normally I wouldn’t say anything about a fellow actor, but this girl has a fit at the drop of a hat. If she can’t find anything in the props bag we’re subjected to huffs and puffs, and woe betide we say anything to her about it, that then means we endure the silent treatment while she bangs things around and texts people to let them know she’s not happy with us. Suffice to say, as I write this I am thankful in the knowledge that I’ll never have to see her again. This said, I did have a pang of sadness in my chest as I said goodbye to Chloë at Stoke train station.

Monday evening, I’m walking around the local Tesco, iPod playing the 1975 classic, ‘I’m On Fire’ by 5000 Volts, when a woman in a mobility scooter reverses into me, “Oops,” she says, “I was distracted by the bargains.” I chuckle, thinking what a brilliant apology, then walk into a small child almost knocking it over. “Oops,” I mutter, “Bugger off out of my way.” I leave Tesco and am driving behind a B&Q lorry as it exits the car park, the driver misjudges the bend and his wheels catch the railing and twists it, before some plastic wheel trims shoot from it and it’s free to continue on its way. I wonder if the driver said “Oops!”

Tuesday, we are stuck in horrendous traffic for hours, We’re in Ludlow and the A38 is closed and all the traffic is moving through the town. We drop into Waitrose and buy some lunch and sit watching the lines of cars going nowhere. Eventually the shows for the day are cancelled and we slowly navigate our way through the gridlock towards the M5 junction.  We are at last free of the congestion that we’ve endured for five hours, and we make our way northwards, finally enjoying a glass of wine at the accommodation at Dilhorne.

At midday on Wednesday, we’re almost at our next venue when we see a car completely covered in snow, at least  three inches thick, moving slowly towards us. At first we think the handbrake isn’t on and it must be drifting on its own. It crosses the centre of the road before straightening up and passes us, we are astonished to see an old lady behind the wheel of what is essentially a giant snowball. She’d cleared the side window of snow but not the windscreen. Glad to be past her we head off up the road to entertain our next audience. The show goes really well, and as I’m singing my first song, Jack a handsome boy with ‘Downs’ stands up, takes my hand and dances with me.

Christmas eve arrives and I catch up on last minute gift buying, and visiting friends Rozz and Spike. I drive home as The Pretenders play ‘The Nothing Maker’ and spend the evening warm and cosy with a glass or two of wine, thinking about all the madness that happens so we can celebrate one day of over-indulgence. Short and sweet this week folks. Merry Christmas to you all.

Crotch Grabbing and the Fighting Grannies

Monday 13.12.10 – Saturday 18.12.10 – How quickly the working week comes back around when you only have one day off. Last week I talked about in-car dining, and on Monday I saw another incident, this one was truly marvellous. Sat in an Audi was a man in a suit and he was eating noodles as he drove past. The image of him with noodles hanging from his mouth made him look like his car was been driven by one of the Ood from Doctor Who. I can only imagine he reached his destination with his shirt front stained by the trailing noodles.

In between shows we visit a pub for our lunch and I do a spot of people watching. Sat next to us is three pensioners, the waiter comes over and speaks to one of the ladies, after he leaves, their conversation goes like this: Lady 1 “What did he say?” Lady 2 “Who?” Lady 1 “The darkie.” Lady 2 “He said, are you enjoying your meal?” Man “Who said that?” Lady 2 “The darkie.” The older generation have a lot of catching up to do still, methinks.

I’m made to smile as a young girl opposite sits down and a noise is heard, her mother asks, “Have you farted?”, the girls replies in the negative, blaming the noise on her coat, this leads to several unsuccessful attempts to replicate the original sound. The day ends with The Smiths playing ‘Hand In Glove’ as I drive home through the lanes.

The following day during the break between shows we pop into the Bagot Arms in Sutton Coldfield, this time for just a pint. I pop into the gents and am followed by another man. He steps up to the urinal and opens his fly; nothing unusual by this you may think, until I hear him say, “Out you come my little beauty.” I try not to pee on my shoes as I stifle my laughter.

Funny things, actors, what with their traditions and superstitions, you’d think they’d have enough to contend with? Not in our cast, every time anyone says strange fruit, no matter where we are I have to sing the first verse of the song with the same name, I’ve been known now to sing it on and offstage. Equally Chloë has to do the same, every time anyone says, “What’s This”, she has to sing a verse from the song from the Tim Burton film, The Nightmare Before Christmas.

Wednesday is an odd day, as two incidents happen, both of which are similar yet unusual. During one of my songs in the matineé performance, a man reaches out and cups my genitals, shocked I step back and try not to stumble over the lyrics of the song. In the evening performance, I’m halfway through my duet with Chloë when a woman grabs my crotch, once again I’m shocked and try to hold it together, as Chloë sings with a huge smile across her face. Needless to say when we exit we can’t hold the laughter in.

On Thursday we all revisit our childhood, and recount tales of our favourite TV shows and songs. We are talking about the song by Peter, Paul and Mary. ‘Puff, the Magic Dragon’ when someone looks up the lyrics and what we remember as a happy song turns out to be a sad tale of a dragon who loses his best friend and spends the rest of his life hiding away in a cave. As I drive home in the evening with CSS playing ‘Music Is My Hot, Hot Sex’, I spot a small puppy in my headlights. I stop the car, as it’s strange that a puppy would be in the country lanes, so far from any houses. I get out and look for it but alas it’s gone, I climb back into the car hoping it wasn’t lost and had headed off to where it come from.

Once again during my duet with Chloë another incident occurs, this time it’s during the Friday evening show. Two elderly ladies begin arguing and the argument spills into a fight, with them both jousting with a walking frame, we continue on with the son; now experts at singing ‘I Know Him So Well’ whilst laughing

Saturday and we perform our first show only to venture out to the car park to find the van beneath a huge snowfall, we dig ourselves out and head off into the snow covered streets. Essentially what should have been a 40 minute journey back to Stoke took us 4 hours, as we crawled along at 3 miles an hour, eventually due to road closures reaching an almost deserted northbound M5. With more snow forecast for the weekend, we can but hope it doesn’t prevent us completing our last 4 days of shows.

Automobile Dining and Pantomime Moments

Monday 6 December 2010 -The heavy snowfalls that we had last week have now started to recede, and we begin our second week of the tour faced with freezing fog and ice. We leave for our first show of the day and head towards Kettering. There is sporadic patches of fog, and the usual congestion on the M6, but nothing that causes us worry. We are passing Coventry, at a snails pace, when we look out of the window and a see a man sat in a car next to us, and he is drinking tea out of a china cup, how random is that? We arrive at our destination, set up, perform, pack away and disappear back into the fog. We clamber back onto the M6, going north, when we come to a standstill. For three hours we inch our way up the motorway, the gridlock due to an accident earlier. We call our afternoon venue and explain we will be very late, they tell us not to bother coming and can we re-schedule. We pass the mangled lorry causing the congestion, pick up speed and agree to come to do the show at 11.00 am the following day. We are almost home, when we spot another incident of in-car dining, this time a woman is travelling at speed, whilst eating a yogurt, pot balanced on the steering wheel and spoon in the other hand.

Tuesday 7 December 2010 – I eat breakfast as ‘Chelsea Dagger’ by The Fratellis plays on the iPod. The road looks like a skating rink, the snow has now become an icy wasteland. I defrost the car and we head off for another day of pantomime. The first show of the day is going well, when out of nowhere a disembodied voices calls out, ‘Help,’ who and why they want help we have no idea, and we carry on oblivious. I have a blast during the second show, and flirt outrageously with the ladies in the audience, one asks me if I’m a stripper, so I twang my elasticated waistcoat and say “Would you like me to be?” her response is, “Yes please.” Followed by raucous laughter. The third show is underway when I suddenly realise we’re running on autopilot, the problem with acting can be that sometimes as a performer you zone out and the performance comes with no real effort. almost like an automaton.

Wednesday 8 December 2010 – Today is a horrible dull day, and to top it off, we have trouble finding our first venue, we eventually find it and are told by our contact that it’s not on maps yet as it’s a new build. So why didn’t they tell us that before we set off to perform there? Some people just don’t have a clue. The problem with touring theatre is that the venues always assume you re only visiting them: No one realises that it would be impractical to put together a show for just one theatre space; I’m always amazed when they utter the words, “Oh, so you’ve other places to visit with the show.” The highlight of today is another incident of automobile dining, this time a man in a blue van has a bag of chips on his dashboard, and is munching as he drives. One question comes to mind,- where on the M69 do they sell chips?

Thursday 9 December 2010 – Our first show today is a private performance for a mental health charity, our audience all have varying degrees of mental health issues, ranging from depression to schizophrenia. We set up as Billy, one of our audience members showers us with a barrage of jokes, every one rude, racist or sexist. The show goes really well with the audience being very vocal. We’re driving off to our second show when we spot another person eating yogurt whilst driving, this time a man in a white van. There must be easier things to eat when on the move than yogurt. In the evening we all have a few drinks at the cottage where some other cast members are staying. Adam cooks for us all, (drunk) and we make too much noise as a collection of actors are apt to do. Later on, tired but happy I drive home with ‘Spacehead’ by The Primitives shuffling onto the iPod.

Friday 10 December 2010 – My birthday has arrived, it’s very low key as I’m working, for as long as I can remember I have always been in panto on this day, either touring or based in a theatre, so today is no different. The shows go smoothly, I get a birthday kiss of an old girl in the audience, named Beryl. We have a few drinks again at the cottage in the evening and the cast members give me a card with lovely messages inside, Chloë has drawn a picture of the X Factor hopefuls, boy-band One Direction as I have given them all nicknames, and whenever they’re on TV i shout them at the television screen; It’s almost like having a case of entertainment Tourette's. I leave earlier today and head off home with my card, and gifts of wine and panettone. As I drive home through the deserted country lanes as Debbie Harry sings ‘The Jam Was Moving’ from her 1981 solo album, ‘Koo Koo’

The weekend arrives, with 3 shows on Saturday and a day off on Sunday just chilling out.

Performing 18 shows a week, (162 performances of songs) can take it out of you. I was about to say working in pantomime can make December a surreal month, however the iPod shuffles and ‘Dancing Lasha Tumbai’ by Verka Serduchka begins to play. Perhaps panto-time is normal and it’s my life that’s surreal…..Who knows?

Unproductive Farting and the Distraction Burglars

Well what a week we’ve had, snow came and caused chaos, roads were gridlocked, people were stranded and our first show was cancelled, apparently the snow was preventing people from getting to the venue. To celebrate the cancellation I opted for a bowl of soup. Out of the cupboard came the tin of broccoli and stilton soup that has languished there for around six months. As the B-52’s shuffle in the kitchen to play ‘Private Idaho,’ the soup bubbles on the stove. Now I know there’s nothing very exciting about a bowl of soup, it warms the bones and satisfies the hunger. However this bowl of soup was destined to have an adverse effect on myself later in the day.

Chloë and myself watch the old folks outside in the snow. One of the old chaps spends most of his time in a disability scooter, moaning about how frail he is. However today the gritters have arrived and a miracle has occurred, he has grabbed his spade and is running through the snow to steal some grit for his drive, he also finds the strength to help push a car up the hill. The three men stand chatting in the snow, and Chloë comments on them looking like the Three Stooges, and as she says this one of them swings around and hits the other across the back of his legs with his spade. Then the now recovered frail one, leaves the group only to slide down the hill before landing unceremoniously on his backside on his newly gritted drive. (That’ll teach you to steal council grit.)

By early evening the soup has started to have an effect upon my body, and I begin to pass wind, my stomach is gurgling and what then proceeds is an evening of unproductive farting, I say unproductive as nothing but noise is produced from my nether regions.

The shows begin, and after our first one I have an elderly lady, come up to me and ask me which part of Ireland I am from? I assure her I’m not Irish, but she wont have it, she is adamant that I have the lilting accent of an Irishman, I smile and walk away thinking to myself, ‘what a mad old bird you are.’ Later Chloë and myself take a trip into town, to wander around in the now churned up snow in the town centre. We’re passing a pub when we see and advertisement for a German band and can’t stop laughing as the band is called, Zigal and the Fannies, oh how we wish we’d been able to watch them perform.

We spot another advertisement that induces hilarity, it reads; 'Mary wasn’t fooled by the distraction burglars.’ We instantly go into performance mode, and stage scenes of people being distracted and their possessions stolen. Mary is knitting when she hears a noise…….Ping…..Looks down and her blouse has been stolen by the distraction burglars. (You get the idea?)

Friday’s first show is eventful, I’m doing my second song when a piece of the beasts furry head becomes lodged in my throat and I begin choking, I have to make an exit and as the rest of the cast improvise I’m in the bathroom being sick, and unable to breathe. Offending fur is removed and I return back on stage trying hard not to breath on the others.One of the essential elements of pantomime is the audience participation, and during this show we are reduced to tears by a heckle from a gentleman in the audience. My line is, ‘What do Cockney’s drop?’ to which the gentleman in the audience shouts out clearly, ‘Their bollocks.’ The audience and cast alike cannot contain themselves, and laughter abounds.

We drive back to our home base and stop for petrol, ‘I Thought It Was You,’ from the Sunlight album by Herbie Hancock is playing as I fill up the van. A man at another pump catches my eyes, I watch as he removes the child seat from the passenger seat and stows it in the boot of his Peugeot. Nothing odd about this, but then he removes his tie and then his wedding ring, before driving off. No doubt off to a secret assignation, elsewhere.