Back on Track

It’s been a long time since I’ve written here, but from now on, it will be hard get rid of me. Which is how I feel about Edith Sitwell. For better or worse, she’s part of my life now.

Since my last blog in September 2012, we’ve had many adventures with Edith, much has happened and much has changed. Firstly, I’m no longer a mild mannered receptionist. I left for a short sojourn in London playing a gloomy eyed barbarian in Roman Britain for Clio’s Company, (pictured below) and had a few auditions, (including an exciting one at the National Theatre for an Alan Bennett play) but without success.

I returned to the wonderful world of temping, this time as a faceless filer, with the decision to work hard and keep my head down. But Edith was still with me, and my secret ‘other’ life, away from endless admin, continued.

We received an invitation from, William Sitwell, great nephew of Edith, and members of Peters, Fraser and Dunlop, the agents of the Estate to talk about copyright issues.

The West London office had uber receptionists, who not only offered coffee but also recommended it highly (note to self: pay attention to this in order to get a better class of temp job in the future). Simon and I were suited and booted, but nervous. This could be the end of it all. But on the contrary: there were apologies for the inconvenience caused, discussion of plans and permission given (within reasonable parameters) to work on the material and cake...really good cake. As if this wasn’t enough, the charming Mr Sitwell then said that, obviously, in terms of research, I would need to visit Weston Hall (a Sitwell home) and see Edith’s books, hats and clothes. 

When we left Simon said that he thought I was going to literally jump out of my chair and kiss everyone with excitement! I didn’t because I am a sensible adult (even if I do spend a lot of my life dressed up!), but instead I floated down the road to our next destination… We were off again…‘Edith, Elizabeth and I’ was back on track.

Mad Old Bird in a Box.

Finally, the time had come to put ‘Edith, Elizabeth and I’ back in front of a real live audience; just thirty minutes, but a chance to try out some ideas and get feedback from friends and industry people. The ‘mild mannered receptionist’ and her director had taken a week off work, had rehearsal space, a large trunk, false nails, a variety of bizarre headdresses and a selection of home made props. But two days into the rehearsal, bad news arrived. After ten months of communication and negotiation, copyright issues were still up in the air, which unfortunately meant that the material couldn’t be shown publicly at the Nightingale Theatre and the ‘Scratch’had to be cancelled.

We had the good part of a week remaining, with nothing else planned. I had banished myself from daytime TV quite early on in my acting career- realising that too much ‘Neighbours’ and ‘Oprah’ (Jeremy Kyle these days) is worse then overdosing on cigarettes and coffee -so wallowing in self pity and brain cell destruction wasn’t an option. As far as I’m aware, dressing up, talking to yourself and fooling around have no sanctions, as long as you don’t do it publicly! All a girl and her director could do was to carry on exploring, playing and making a show (for future reference!)

 The lovely Ralf Higgins, our movement coach, came along to advise and generally be warm and wise. After seeing some of our work in progress he commented that if we had to change the title for copyright reasons- It should be called ‘Mad Old Bird in a Box’- a reference pointed more towards me then Edith. He was right. What the hell was I doing! 46, living off £27 for the week, no acting work since March and only three auditions since then, huddled in a trunk, wearing a green vintage cocktail dress, feather bower on my head, ready to pop out to an unsuspecting non existent audience, and working on a piece of theatre that presently can’t be shown to anyone anyway!

I made a pact with myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t work without being paid- but sometimes needs must. I believe in this project and you have to start from somewhere. And if you locked me in a dark cell (or a shady trunk!) I’d find a way to make a play or paint a mural (don’t think about it too much). I am a creative creature, I am never more at home then when I’m in a performance space, dressed up, telling stories, making theatre… and in the words of the Gershwins'- ‘They can’t take that a way from me.’ I think my story, Edith’s story, Edith’s stories of Elizabeth 1st and the story of how I tried to tell those stories, are all worth telling. It could take longer then we originally thought, the journey is already more complicated and it may cost (not just financially), more then we originally anticipated.

But if asked ‘is it really worth it?’ I would have to answer ‘Yes, I promise you. It’s worth it’’ and would add ‘this Mad Old Bird in a Box’ is not for turning’.

(Work to continue after Copyright Meeting on Oct 10^{th -} Watch this space)

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…