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.
No comments:
Post a Comment