Notes From The Deep End: Hiccups? Pass the Gaviscon…

It had to happen. Something had to go pear-shaped. ‘Tis the nature of things. I personally blame Scott Sheridan for blithering on about The Scottish Play …and for this we will have his oily hide… But nevertheless, defiantly onward we thrust ourselves; we care not a jot for hiccups!! We march steadfastly t’ward a brighter tomorrow- emboldened in the self-belief of a cast that knows its worth… and out of sheer terror that we OPEN in about four weeks time. However this fervent behaviour has not been without impediments. And for this we must thank the joy that is the Internet. Rehearsal is off for Tuesday- yea verily it is so, as bespoke from the keyboard of the Cuppa-Killer. And not wishing to transgress the might of Ming Most High, we meekly concur. Until today, that is. When I am frankly staggered to learn that we’re back on for tomorrow night. Just as well I checked my ether depository- or else my message would have sat cold, rancid and lonely as a frozen blowfly with hepatitis. This change of events has VAST ramifications; obviously someone among us believes they have the POWER to contradict Il Directore! (Gasp now!) Some troublemakers and malcontents within the cast obviously believe we need MORE rehearsal… or is it simply a ruse to influence the rest of us to rise against our formidable Captain Bligh?? Can it be?? HOW can it be??? But fear is for the weak! I, for one, stand firmly beside Il Directore- as he still wieldeth the most clout at present (I say “at present” because we’re yet to work on the scene where Diane wallops me- she has a significant height advantage). I will not be party to this feeble attempt at inter-cast mutiny!! My loyalty stands firmly with Malks- no matter HOW many of my coffees he smiteth! (Pauses for allocation of creep points; none forthcoming. Yet) And yet, the extra rehearsal call has its upside- we get to meet the Stage Manager. At last, the mystical being known as Josh (and from now on referred to as God) will make his presence known to us- and oh the joy! The rapture as our newfound deity will look on confused as we band together, cast as one, arm in arm, and re-block, re-contextualise and re-direct the play in three hours!!! These are the times in which friendships are hard fought for and hard won. We few, we brave few, risk all in pursuit of our collective demented vision. And I will be there, reporting all that I see through espresso-tinged glasses, for you- The Deserving and Ever-Patient Reader. Read on in the next forty-eight for my next vivid instalment. Where will the chips fall? Until next time, I remain typically inconsistent. El.