I washed my clothes today and my goodness do they smell nice.
Our dinner last night was fabulous. Company from all throughout the UK, as well as Spain, Hungary, America, and Canada. Fajitas were tasty, Polish plum cake doubly so. And Ivani's beautiful voice serenaded us all late into the the evening. I slept deeply and arose this morning to wash clothing (ooh yeah) and relax. Lots of a journal writing and watching the sun dart in and out of the clouds.
Eduard left us and Kate went off to do some errands. I ended up leaving the flat around 3pm after saying my thank you's and goodbye's to Kate to meet Josh Cornwell and his girlfriend on Princes Street. I found Josh leaning out the top of Scott Monument, but I was damned if I was going to climb that many flights of stairs with a full backpack, so I called him and told him to come down. We went for coffee and I introduced Josh to the wonders of chocolate, caramel, and shortbread. Yum.
Then onto a bus and over to Fountainbridge to meet Ben. Ladies and Gentlemen: I now have my own room. For a whole weekend. It's got a bed and a clothes drying rack and a dresser and EVERYTHING. I'm so excited.
Lots of couchsurfing action this weekend with a meet Sunday evening at the Brass Monkey for a free film festival, then Monday at 2pm we're bringing free hugs to St. Andrew's Square. Look out UK, here we come! For anyone not familiar with the Free Hugs Movement, do take the time to google it (As it's late and I can't be arsed to link the webpage) and join in on the fun. I'll let you all know how it goes.
Tonight Ben and I caught Play On Words, a fantastic show in the tradition of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead written by a three man theatre company who have all been friends for years. I met one of their number at the Fringe Box Office and was exceedingly pleased to see what talented young men they are. The show was fantastic. Clever, moving, witty, unusual. Everything I enjoy in theatre. I wanted to stay and chat with them at the bar, but Ben and I headed home instead, stopping at The Last Drop (A pub which used to be the site of all the hangings in Edinburgh - har har very funny) and a (much quieter) pub near his house for a few drinks. All in all a very successful day.
Tomorrow will be a slow start and so, as that great 18th century jounralist would say, to bed.
Sleep tight,
Lucy
Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts
Friday, August 24, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Bohemian Living
Sunday Sunday Sunday.
Mick, my current Couchsurfing host, is improvising on the piano across the hall, and the two hitchhikers from Nottingham who arrived from Scandanavia (!) last night have gone out for groceries. Mark, my next stop, says he ("inadvertently") has 7 people staying with him tonight, so it looks like I'll be here for a little while longer. Song of The Goat performs at 2:30 today, for which I cannot wait. But yesterday...oh yesterday. I saw the most amazing show so far. A new piece written by Mark Quarterly, an undergrad at Durham University, called Odyssey. It has nothing to do with Homer aside from an educated joke explaining the names of the two main characters, Neoptolemus and Pyrrhus -- two names for the same classical charater: The Son of Achilles. They are twins.
I got to the show completely by chance through a new friend made at the Forest Cafe. And now we must pause in this anecdote.
A word on the Forest: It's a beautiful old building that has been completely adapted into a sort of modern/bohemian version of an 18th Century conversation-filled Salon. All the people who work there are volunteers who spend their time making delicious food while all over the room people curled on couches and in armchairs talk about anything and everything. Musicians play for free on the stage and people who wander in and out perform poetry on a whim. Upstiars there's a converted church which acts as a theatre venue. Free shows go on all day. Readings, experimental theatre, musicals, concerts -- anything. It is a haven. I could stay there all day.
So that's that. Anyway, yesterday morning I wandered in and found myself swept upstairs for a free show merely titled "The Thing." A group of us were ushered into this room full of chairs. Each chair had a hat on it. There were people dressed as traditional mimes standing in the corners of the room. There were signs that said things like "Games" "Costumes" "Guns Etc." There was a giant cardboard Tom Cruise. There was a script.
One of our number who was, inexplicably, already dressed in a tricorn and period clothing and carrying a birdcage, got up and read from the script. We were the play. It was all up to us, a group who had never met before, to create something from nothing. The mimes were actors who couldn't think for themselves but would do anything we asked. The next hour and half was absurd and silly and serious and amazing amounts of fun. We ended up putting one of the hats on trial after engaging in battle with an army of zombie lions who had attmpted to follow us onto our ark and had to be killed by Amelia Earhart who was carrying a silver spike. The trial ended in conviction for the hat (A black bowler) and we all parted ways.
After the show I met the creators, an American couple from LA. We talked Southern California talk for a while. My accent got muddled. It was their first performance and they felt it had gone really well. She was a director and he an actor. They were both doing degrees in the UK and were interested in my script, so I told them I'd email over a copy. There's a spot open at the Forest for a reading. We could do it. It could work. That's the way things are here. "You've written a play? What's it about? Oh yeah? Well I'm an award-winning actor and my fiancee here who's part Australian part Werewolf is a director. We have access to a space in London. And there's Jeff! Yeah, Hi Jeff. This is Franchesca. She's written a play. You want to fund it? That's great! Alright, auditions next week? Fantastic. And Sam? I know you're making sandwiches today...yeah...would you write us a press release? Cheers." And so on.
Anyway, I caught the second half of The Lime Tree Bower by Conner MacPherson around 6 which I hadn't been able to stay for a few days previously. Slept through the first half because I'd only got about 4 hours sleep the night before, then watched the second bit. It was very good. Chatted with the actors afterwards, then headed across the street with James, one of the volunteers from the Forest who does tech and sells cookies, who had invited me to see Odyssey at Bedlam Theatre. Bedlam is the converted Gothic church which serves as the theatre space of Edinburgh University. Go figure. It's fantastic. About 90 seats. Small enough to be intimate but large enough and well-equipped enough to be really professional.
The show completely blew me away. If you ever get the chance to see anything done by this company - do so. Offensive Shadows. They are fantastic. The dialogue was fast-paced and perfectly delivered. Sharp, witty, unpretentious, multi-layered. The actors were all ridiculously talented. The piece was full of physical interludes. Harsh, jagged dances mirroring the ongoing story, the relationships, the backdrop. The set was minimal and the lights were perfect. Nothing over the top, just enough the create beautiful, separate environments and moments. The whole show was urgent, immediate, in-your-face kind of stuff. I loved it. There was nothing I could say afterwards aside from "That was f-ing amazing."
Unfortunately they had a fast changeover for the next show so I was unable to stay and talk to the actors. The lead was also the writer, which I didn't know at the time. It was the sort of piece that really stays with you long after you've left the place. It haunted my thoughts for the rest of the night. It made me think. Theatre rarely does that, even though that's ideally what it should always do. They expressed their desire as a company to brush aside the mess of mediocre theatre that plagues so many stages today and they have done so admirably. I couldn't thank James enough for persuading me to go.
Getting home was a pain in the arse as it had been pissing down with rain all day and nightfall hadn't brought any respite. I finally made it back to Mick's flat soaked to the bone and was exceedingly grateful to change into something dry. Sleep came quickly and I dreamed of inexplicable things.
Today will be full of (hopefully) less rain and more beautiful theatrical experiences. I'm off to catch a bus to the Assembly at Aurora Nova for Lacrimosa, Song of the Goat's new piece, then swing dancing tonight with wild abandon from 7 to midnight. Another adventure.
Eat your porridge. It's made with love.
Lucy
Mick, my current Couchsurfing host, is improvising on the piano across the hall, and the two hitchhikers from Nottingham who arrived from Scandanavia (!) last night have gone out for groceries. Mark, my next stop, says he ("inadvertently") has 7 people staying with him tonight, so it looks like I'll be here for a little while longer. Song of The Goat performs at 2:30 today, for which I cannot wait. But yesterday...oh yesterday. I saw the most amazing show so far. A new piece written by Mark Quarterly, an undergrad at Durham University, called Odyssey. It has nothing to do with Homer aside from an educated joke explaining the names of the two main characters, Neoptolemus and Pyrrhus -- two names for the same classical charater: The Son of Achilles. They are twins.
I got to the show completely by chance through a new friend made at the Forest Cafe. And now we must pause in this anecdote.
A word on the Forest: It's a beautiful old building that has been completely adapted into a sort of modern/bohemian version of an 18th Century conversation-filled Salon. All the people who work there are volunteers who spend their time making delicious food while all over the room people curled on couches and in armchairs talk about anything and everything. Musicians play for free on the stage and people who wander in and out perform poetry on a whim. Upstiars there's a converted church which acts as a theatre venue. Free shows go on all day. Readings, experimental theatre, musicals, concerts -- anything. It is a haven. I could stay there all day.
So that's that. Anyway, yesterday morning I wandered in and found myself swept upstairs for a free show merely titled "The Thing." A group of us were ushered into this room full of chairs. Each chair had a hat on it. There were people dressed as traditional mimes standing in the corners of the room. There were signs that said things like "Games" "Costumes" "Guns Etc." There was a giant cardboard Tom Cruise. There was a script.
One of our number who was, inexplicably, already dressed in a tricorn and period clothing and carrying a birdcage, got up and read from the script. We were the play. It was all up to us, a group who had never met before, to create something from nothing. The mimes were actors who couldn't think for themselves but would do anything we asked. The next hour and half was absurd and silly and serious and amazing amounts of fun. We ended up putting one of the hats on trial after engaging in battle with an army of zombie lions who had attmpted to follow us onto our ark and had to be killed by Amelia Earhart who was carrying a silver spike. The trial ended in conviction for the hat (A black bowler) and we all parted ways.After the show I met the creators, an American couple from LA. We talked Southern California talk for a while. My accent got muddled. It was their first performance and they felt it had gone really well. She was a director and he an actor. They were both doing degrees in the UK and were interested in my script, so I told them I'd email over a copy. There's a spot open at the Forest for a reading. We could do it. It could work. That's the way things are here. "You've written a play? What's it about? Oh yeah? Well I'm an award-winning actor and my fiancee here who's part Australian part Werewolf is a director. We have access to a space in London. And there's Jeff! Yeah, Hi Jeff. This is Franchesca. She's written a play. You want to fund it? That's great! Alright, auditions next week? Fantastic. And Sam? I know you're making sandwiches today...yeah...would you write us a press release? Cheers." And so on.
Anyway, I caught the second half of The Lime Tree Bower by Conner MacPherson around 6 which I hadn't been able to stay for a few days previously. Slept through the first half because I'd only got about 4 hours sleep the night before, then watched the second bit. It was very good. Chatted with the actors afterwards, then headed across the street with James, one of the volunteers from the Forest who does tech and sells cookies, who had invited me to see Odyssey at Bedlam Theatre. Bedlam is the converted Gothic church which serves as the theatre space of Edinburgh University. Go figure. It's fantastic. About 90 seats. Small enough to be intimate but large enough and well-equipped enough to be really professional.
The show completely blew me away. If you ever get the chance to see anything done by this company - do so. Offensive Shadows. They are fantastic. The dialogue was fast-paced and perfectly delivered. Sharp, witty, unpretentious, multi-layered. The actors were all ridiculously talented. The piece was full of physical interludes. Harsh, jagged dances mirroring the ongoing story, the relationships, the backdrop. The set was minimal and the lights were perfect. Nothing over the top, just enough the create beautiful, separate environments and moments. The whole show was urgent, immediate, in-your-face kind of stuff. I loved it. There was nothing I could say afterwards aside from "That was f-ing amazing."
Unfortunately they had a fast changeover for the next show so I was unable to stay and talk to the actors. The lead was also the writer, which I didn't know at the time. It was the sort of piece that really stays with you long after you've left the place. It haunted my thoughts for the rest of the night. It made me think. Theatre rarely does that, even though that's ideally what it should always do. They expressed their desire as a company to brush aside the mess of mediocre theatre that plagues so many stages today and they have done so admirably. I couldn't thank James enough for persuading me to go.
Getting home was a pain in the arse as it had been pissing down with rain all day and nightfall hadn't brought any respite. I finally made it back to Mick's flat soaked to the bone and was exceedingly grateful to change into something dry. Sleep came quickly and I dreamed of inexplicable things.
Today will be full of (hopefully) less rain and more beautiful theatrical experiences. I'm off to catch a bus to the Assembly at Aurora Nova for Lacrimosa, Song of the Goat's new piece, then swing dancing tonight with wild abandon from 7 to midnight. Another adventure.
Eat your porridge. It's made with love.
Lucy
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Welcome To The Wet Hair That Is My First Day in Edinburgh
My nine hour flight from LAX to Dublin went smoothly on an aircraft that was sadly devoid of personal TV screens, but very full of foldable headrests, which are probably the greatest air travel comfort invention since the reclining chair. I watched Shrek 3, which was noteable only for its use of the Lady Washington as a model for the ship featured and Nick Williams as a model for the Captain. I must admit the blocks were very familiar. Unfortunately I only got about a half hour of something resembling sleep during my truncated nighttime. It was unnerving to see the sun go down at 8am and rise again at midnight, but that's what you get for traveling clockwise around the globe.
Once in Ireland, my European journey began with the following passport control officer saying "Welcome to Ireland! And how long will you be staying with us, Lucy?" I responded, truthfully, only a matter of hours as I had a plane to catch to Scotland. "Well, be like that then" he retorted with a smile. I am so unused to airport workers who actually behave like real people it caught me quite off-guard. I proceeded to my gate and fell fast asleep on the bench for an hour -- a much-needed rest. The flight to Edinburgh was over almost as soon as we'd taken off. Ireland was beautiful from the air. So flat it looked as if someone had painted it straight onto the glassy surface of the ocean. The surrounding islands brooding like sleeping behemoths shrouded in fog. I'm looking forward to coming back with time to really explore.
Once in Edinburgh I found my way to the Caledonian Backpacker's Hostel -- an amazing building full of murals and interesting people. I'm sharing a room with at least 24 other folks for the next two nights, then beginning my couchsurfing odyssey. Went out into the city and retrieved tickets for the shows I'm going to see, so full reports on those as they come in.
Nostalgia has relinquished its grip on my spirit and all I can think of is the adventure ahead. All that matters is being here, now, in the midst of a bustling city full of theatre, art, music, and comedy. However, my time on the machine grows short as I am out of twenty p bits to feed it with. So until next time, when I'll be even more deeply emeshed in the culture of the fringe, remember that even if your cereal gets soggy you can still eat it with a spoon.
I have no idea what that means either.
Cheers!
Lucy
Once in Ireland, my European journey began with the following passport control officer saying "Welcome to Ireland! And how long will you be staying with us, Lucy?" I responded, truthfully, only a matter of hours as I had a plane to catch to Scotland. "Well, be like that then" he retorted with a smile. I am so unused to airport workers who actually behave like real people it caught me quite off-guard. I proceeded to my gate and fell fast asleep on the bench for an hour -- a much-needed rest. The flight to Edinburgh was over almost as soon as we'd taken off. Ireland was beautiful from the air. So flat it looked as if someone had painted it straight onto the glassy surface of the ocean. The surrounding islands brooding like sleeping behemoths shrouded in fog. I'm looking forward to coming back with time to really explore.
Once in Edinburgh I found my way to the Caledonian Backpacker's Hostel -- an amazing building full of murals and interesting people. I'm sharing a room with at least 24 other folks for the next two nights, then beginning my couchsurfing odyssey. Went out into the city and retrieved tickets for the shows I'm going to see, so full reports on those as they come in.
Nostalgia has relinquished its grip on my spirit and all I can think of is the adventure ahead. All that matters is being here, now, in the midst of a bustling city full of theatre, art, music, and comedy. However, my time on the machine grows short as I am out of twenty p bits to feed it with. So until next time, when I'll be even more deeply emeshed in the culture of the fringe, remember that even if your cereal gets soggy you can still eat it with a spoon.
I have no idea what that means either.
Cheers!
Lucy
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