2011 disappeared in a flurry of Xmas and Skyrim addiction, and now suddenly it’s 2012 and I get married in three months which s all a bit imminent. As well as that and some sorely overdue booking, I’m doing Jesting About in the North East, where I’m contributing sketches to a half hour radio show that will be recorded live in Newcaslte in February, more info here.
It’s a great kick up the backside for me to write more. There were some great sketches by the team, I’ve not written sketch format for a long time and it’s evident at the first read through, where my stuff got the laughs, but was a bit lacking in internal logic.
We turn up at the civic theatre on time but it is locked. When we are let in by one the tech’s I take a look around and see a very old theatre looking the worse for wear. It does though come as a surprise that we will be one of the last (if not the last) production put on here, as everthing gets moved over the road to the new corn exchange venue. The staff are really nice, but it does feel a bit odd when the three of us are left alone in the old church hall style venue. If not somewhat of a safety hazard. Poking around the old theatre I reveals it’s age with overly officious signage, faded posters the 1920′s and a broken piano with all the guts and springs showing. I imagine the home guard meeting in here like in Dad’s Army. I wander in the town of Bedford which is uneventful but for purchasing this months Doctor Who magazine. We are given a rider! It is mostly cakes and crisps, which I munch on, ignoring the bananas. I think I’m the heaviest I’ve been since the beginning of the year. Healthy eating on tour eating is so hard, much harder than Edinburgh. The show is surprisingly good, like gang show entertainment.
It’s quiet, not much is open and getting dinner is a chore as we go into the pub next to the Kings Theatre. Seeing someone eating a Sunday lunch I try to work out how they knew to order it being that there are no menus on the tables, and no specials board. On asking for a menu we get a single piece of A4 paper, with no mention of Sunday lunch on it. I go to the bar and ask if they do Sunday lunch. There’s is a noticeable pause before the girl replies ‘We do a Sunday roast?’ Bless. She brings a friend of over to help with the sentence ‘We’ve got Chicken, Beef or Pork, but no Chicken’. Charlie notices seating upstairs and tests them further. ‘Yes you can sit upstairs, but there’s no table service upstairs’ came the seemingly adequate reply until we realise the kitchen is upstairs and the serving waitresses have to go upstairs in order to fetch the food down.
The theatre is gorgeous, another ageing beauty. The show is great too, and after we to the Phoenix for a pint where I get uncharacteristically shirty, then calm down (I’m just tired). The walls are awesomely covered with signed photo’s and I get snap happy on pictures of Bernard Horsfall, David Yip, Sue Pollard, Tom O’Conner, Bernard Breslaw, Spike Milligan and the pub dog.
