Mild mannered receptionist by day...

In my current day job, I work in various departments; filing, ‘general admin’, answering the phone. You name it, I can do it. The best job is sitting at the reception desk. It’s like being a human signpost; ‘Toilets that way’, ‘Exit over there’, ‘Unfortunately the café doesn’t open until eleven on a Saturday, but there is a vending machine on Level 5!’

Friends from other areas come past, shaking there heads:

‘You must be so bored!’ They say.

 ’Yes, a bit’ I sigh, as I smile my mild mannered receptionist smile…

 If only they knew. I am anything but bored. It’s like having my own open plan office. In the last four months at this desk, I’ve applied for interesting and unusual jobs in the Arts, journeyed into the unknown territory of script writing for a graphic novel, and written several short stories for various ‘White Rabbit’: ‘Are You Sitting Comfortably’ events (and away from the desk performed them at various locations including in a tepee in Battersea Park donned in red wig and tiara).

And of course, I’ve been plotting, scheming and slowly and steadily creating ‘Edith, Elizabeth and I’.

 A year ago this project was a conversation;

‘I quite fancy doing a one woman show.’ (How many times have I said that!)

 ‘What about?’ said Simon (Friend and director)

‘Well there’s this poet called Edith Sitwell…’

 ‘Why do you want to do a show about her?’

‘I look a bit like her.’

 ‘And…?’

‘… And she wrote several books about Queen Elizabeth the 1^st and I love Queen Elizabeth the 1^st’

 ‘Go and do some research.’

So I do… and we workshop some ideas, and Simon asks hard questions and  I do some writing, and we rehearse and  then do a terrifying but very successful ‘try out’ of the first 15 minutes at ‘The Latest Bar’, last October. Then a brief spell away: Simon travelling to far, exotic places, and me touring in a transit van, mainly around Guildford, in a swimsuit, playing a Great Grandma who swam in the 1948 Olympics.

Now both back in Brighton, and dealing daily with letters regarding copyright, funding applications, dates for performances, and spending weekends in a rehearsal room, Simon watching me talk to myself or to the lovely Ralf Higgins who stands in for Edith (since she’s not actually there)… and still so much to do.  

Meanwhile back at the desk the mild mannered receptionist calmly and professionally deals with the dramas of the day:

‘I’m sorry the toilets are currently closed for cleaning’ and ‘Unfortunately, Sir, everyone has to pay for parking!’

And in between these major incidents, she secretly writes this blog…