I dedicate this performance to Dr Chuck!
Thursday evening the pains begin and the nausea, "it's just nerves" my helpful husband offers. I load the truck full of stones and sand and washed up nostalgia. We arrive at the Arts Workshop and dump it all there, a performance, in bucket form. I go home, a glass of red, a glass of red and an early night, big day tomorrow.
3.48am agony and pain! my husband can't muster any concern at this time of the morning. I take some pain killers and twist and turn until 6.00am. By 8.30am I am a mess, weeping in Boots the chemist at the mortified counter assistant, I am trying to explain that I have to perform today, she asks me if its a musical, she loves musicals.....I burst into tears, she gets her supervisor.
Dr Chuck will see me at 11am. My first performance is at 3pm. I have not yet rigged lights, arranged the seating or set up my beach. The technician suggests we cancel the performances. More weeping. My mother is on hand with a lift in her postman pat van, we bomb to Copmanthorpe. Dr Chuck listens to me and prescribes me a quick fix, I will perform today in his opinion and these tablets are going to help me.
I arrive back at the Arts Workshop a pale shaking mess. I eat something. Lights are rigged. I make my beach and lie in it.
2pm, my words wont come, my words wont come and my mouth is dry....I am dizzy but not as sick, the pains are fading...its going to be ok.
PERFORMANCE TIME! A shaky start, a mobile phone rings and rings, its my mothers phone! Words trip me up but do not fail me....dry mouth stifles my flow, the plum is bitter this afternoon. I start to grow, my voice, my body responds and for the second half I am present again, thankfully! Although, startled by the whole experience so much so that I forget, I forget to finish the performance properly, I leave out the words that connect us all, our own stories and histories, the moment my autobiography becomes irrelevant....
3.48am agony and pain! my husband can't muster any concern at this time of the morning. I take some pain killers and twist and turn until 6.00am. By 8.30am I am a mess, weeping in Boots the chemist at the mortified counter assistant, I am trying to explain that I have to perform today, she asks me if its a musical, she loves musicals.....I burst into tears, she gets her supervisor.
Dr Chuck will see me at 11am. My first performance is at 3pm. I have not yet rigged lights, arranged the seating or set up my beach. The technician suggests we cancel the performances. More weeping. My mother is on hand with a lift in her postman pat van, we bomb to Copmanthorpe. Dr Chuck listens to me and prescribes me a quick fix, I will perform today in his opinion and these tablets are going to help me.
I arrive back at the Arts Workshop a pale shaking mess. I eat something. Lights are rigged. I make my beach and lie in it.
2pm, my words wont come, my words wont come and my mouth is dry....I am dizzy but not as sick, the pains are fading...its going to be ok.
PERFORMANCE TIME! A shaky start, a mobile phone rings and rings, its my mothers phone! Words trip me up but do not fail me....dry mouth stifles my flow, the plum is bitter this afternoon. I start to grow, my voice, my body responds and for the second half I am present again, thankfully! Although, startled by the whole experience so much so that I forget, I forget to finish the performance properly, I leave out the words that connect us all, our own stories and histories, the moment my autobiography becomes irrelevant....
These stones are my ancestors, my footing, my past. They are the stones in the pockets of great writers and poets, the walls of buildings, the flood defences, the executioners and markers of the dead, they are the edges of islands and they are deep dark caves....
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