The thing that really pisses me off – and I mean REALLY pisses me off, is people who sit on the outside seat on a bus when there is no-one on the inside seat and the bus is absolutely packed. AND, when you politely ask them if they wouldn’t mind moving their legs to one side so that the little old lady, who can obviously barely stand, can sit down on the empty seat, they look at you as though you’ve just asked them to re-write the Geneva Convention. These people should be TASARED! Really – or jailed. Miserable, selfish bastards.
On a lighter note, ‘The Secret Garden’ started its national tour last month for Heartbreak Productions. As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, I thoroughly enjoyed adapting it and, having now seen it, it was certainly a worthwhile labour of love…and money. Marie McCarthy has directed it beautifully and the cast are terrific. There’s a write-up in The Stage ( online, anyway ), which is the only ‘crit’ I’ve seen so far but says some very nice things about it. For tour dates, go to www.heartbreakproductions.co.uk.
My second play, ‘The Moon is Halfway to Heaven’ has now got a concrete offer from a fantastic off-West End theatre and I’m currently negotiating with a producer with the possibility of raising the necessary funds.
I’ve also just finished the first draft of a screenplay for ‘Heartbreak’ entitled ‘The Tour’. A cross between The Office and Spinal Tap, its about a group of touring actors and the ups and downs of life on tour.
Some sad news. My friend Brigitta D’Arcy died a couple of weeks ago. She was a poet and author ( having written a sequel to ‘Phantom of the Opera’ amongst other things ). I recorded an anthology of her poetry with the harpist, Rupert Parker, called ‘Reflections of the Heart’ and we became good friends. She was a super lady, and a talented writer. I went up to Northampton for her funeral at the end of June and read out one of her poems. Strange, but lovely fact to end with. She was ( IS, because she’s merely in another dimension now ) very spiritual and told me that, when she died, she would try to get a sign to me from the ‘other side’. Anyway, having driven to the crematorium and arriving an hour early, I sat in my car and read for a while. Now, the digital clock on my dashboard hasn’t worked properly in the five years I’ve had it, and when it has worked, its always been the wrong time. Whilst I was reading, I suddenly felt an amazingly happy atmosphere, or presence if you will, looked straight at the clock which was working AND the correct time. Coincidence? Or Brigitta coming through? The latter I believe.
Take good care of yourselves