Lesson 1: Go It Alone

It all started because I wanted to buy a programme. Well, I tell a lie, it all started many years ago when I spent a whole summer watching re-runs of Cagney and Lacey and hoping I would, one day, be Christine Cagney. Sadly, I took a job at a local leisure centre instead and my hopes of being a savvy New York cop were dashed.

In October 2011, my Mum said “you know that Sharon Gless woman is in a play don’t you?” Wait, Sharon Gless, a star of Cagney and Lacey, is in a play in London. I immediately ask everyone I know if they want to go; my friends, my Mum, even my Nan. They aren’t fussed about my childhood obsession and I need to make a decision; I book ONE ticket. I’m going to theatre alone. Oh God.

So I’m sitting there, waiting for it to start. There are groups of friends coming in and taking their seats, laughing and drinking. I’m sitting there like a loner and wishing I had managed to convince the nice homeless man I met at Hammersmith tube to accompany me. Even he had other plans. Jeez. So I buy a programme and keep my head down, I’m trying not to make eye contact as I’m one of those people that strangers like to talk to.

I clock these two women enter and I immediately know what’s going to happen...and I’m right. There are loads of empty seats and they choose the ones right next to me. Not even a spare seat between us, RIGHT bloody next to me. This was always going to happen, it’s just my luck. I don’t look up, I pretend to read the Sharon Gless biography page for the third time. And then it happens...

“I’ll have to get my own programme because I keep looking over this lady’s shoulder.” She means me. Great. And now I’ll have to say something, I’ll have to lend her my programme AND make conversation. This isn’t how I wanted this night to turn out. I hand it over.

“So why have you come to see the show?” she asks.

“Cagney and Lacey.” It’s an honest answer, but I sound like a tit. I’m the youngest person in the theatre and I’ve come to watch a play on my own because of some 1980’s cop drama that I obsessed over when I was nine. What an utter moron.

She laughs. “That’s a great reason actually. I’m Rebecca.” This strange woman next to me isn’t taking the mick, she’s being nice. And I now don’t feel like a complete loser. We talk some more and the play begins.

Sharon Gless is fab, obviously. Though there was a part of the show where she has an orgasm onstage (it was scripted, not improvised) and that wierded me out. Cagney would never do that. I have my fingers crossed the whole play for an impromptu onstage arrest and some New York banter, but it didn’t happen.

So it turns out that Rebecca is an actress and is in a one-woman show and hands me a flyer. I promise I’ll go, though at the time I was sceptical. Did I really want to go to theatre on my own? Again? This could be a bad habit in the making. But, despite being in the company of strangers and far from home, I’ve had a good time. And a couple of months later, I go and see Rebecca’s show and that was good too and we have a drink afterwards and that’s pretty much how my adventure of exploring places started.

All I did was buy a programme and I made a friend. In the past few months I've done so many things I would never have done before, most of them on my own too. I guess you’ve just got to not be scared to do things on your own once in a while. Just because your friends don’t share all your interests doesn’t mean you have stop having a passion for those subjects. Rule number one is sometimes go it alone, it just means your having an adventure and, based on my experience so far, I’d say it’s a risk worth taking.

A quiet night....or how I missed the last train and spent the night in Brixton

I’m standing in a stranger’s kitchen doing their washing up. As Friday evening’s go, this one isn't cracked up to much...yet. I’ve been invited to a one woman show and for an interview beforehand, but I figure there’s a lot of preparation needed for the performance so I pitch in. I even put the washing up away (this doesn’t happen at home) and I’m sure I put the bowls in the wrong cupboard but it’ fine, people can eat cereal off plates I’m sure.

Anyway, the point is I’m yet again in the company of many strangers. That wasn’t a complaint by the way, if the last few weeks have taught me anything, it’s that meeting new people is one of the greatest things anyone can do. This is how we learn new things and discover new places. I’m not doing this off my own back by the way, it’s just I have a very persuasive friend called Rebecca who seems to know everyone and, therefore, I meet everyone. 

So there’s Laura, the actress in the piece, and I’ve interviewed her and it’s all going marvellously well but it’s coming up to 8pm and the guests will be arriving soon. Rebecca and I head upstairs and sit outside the house like the welcoming committee, sending the small guest list down to Laura two at a time. It’s mine and Charles’ turn now, so off we go back downstairs. The house belongs to Charles and it must be an odd sensation to have a bunch of people in your house, some of whom you don’t know, sitting on your chairs and watching a woman cook.

“It’s John Travolta and Pamela Anderson!” a Northern voice proclaims as we enter the kitchen. “What an honour! I’m Sylvie.” Literally 10 minutes ago, this woman was called Laura. Now she’s a Yorkshire housewife with celebrities in her kitchen, handing out hor d’oeuvres and telling us about her love for Celine Dion. I think I’m going to fill up my glass.

The play is called Crumble by the way and Laura goes and performs it in people’s kitchens. Audiences are between 10 – 15 members and this provides an intimacy to the performance, which follows on from Sylvie’s welcoming banter. We all take our seats but I wasn’t quick enough and I’m at the very front. Granted I got the best chair with cushions and arm rests, but it’s RIGHT at the front and this is either going to be a good thing or a very bad thing...

Turns out, it was a very good thing. The piece is phenomenal; I’ve never experienced theatre like this, where you are fully submerged in drama. If I said theatre to people, they would say cramped, red velvet seats, big stages and ice-creams with spoons that don’t work and you end up flicking pieces of frozen strawberry at people. But this is in someone’s house and it’s  right in front me, there’s no barrier, there’s no raised stage, there’s nothing in the way. It feels real, it feels like I know Sylvie.

I wasn’t prepared for the second half of the play. The tension switches so quickly between happiness and innuendo to dark, heart-wrenching drama that I feel a bit numb. I feel helpless and, even though I know it’s a play, it’s like I want to help her. This is how theatre should be, making people believe in the piece and making them feel. Sylvie enters the space with a candle, tear stained face apparent, Celine Dion playing in the background. I’m just about to reach for my wine when I hear this....

“Pamela? Pamela Anderson, will you dance with me?” She’s talking to me. I knew sitting at the front was a bad idea and I can’t say no, can I, because it’s part of the piece. So I stand up and we dance and I blow out the candle and it’s over. The piece is brilliant and, quite frankly, I was lost for words....yeah, I know right?!

I should stress at this point that I had every intention of going home at this point. It’s 9pm and I have to go back down South and it’s been a long day. I’ll have one drink, that won’t harm anyone. One drink with everyone and I’ll go.

It’s now 11.30pm and I’m down two bottles of wine, my jaw aches from laughing and these strangers are hilarious. There’s a mad sort of dash for the station but it’s too late. I’m not going to make the last train. I ring Rebecca and ask her very nicely, I think, if I can stay. Thankfully the answer is yes and I trapse over to Brixton, narrowly missing being hit by a bus.

But, despite the failed journey home, I’ve had a great evening and a new experience. I’ve seen a play, met new people and been to Brixton. And that’s what I’m appreciating most about life at the moment, just doing stuff. And if this sort of stuff happens again, well, I’m all for it because that’s what life is, experiencing new things, having adventures and sleeping on people’s sofa’s.