Sunday, August 17, 2014

Up and away... nearly.

In 10 days time I'm off to the fabulous Greek island of Skyros to lead a writing course, then direct to equally-fabulous Cortijo Romero in Spain on a similar mission & I'm unlikely to be online much during these sessions so this week has been pressured, but in a nice way... Rosie and I have been planning our next Nevertheless production: Muffin Man and Champagne Charlotte, a double-bill of our own plays which will premiere in Salisbury Fringe Festival and then come to Frome Cornerhouse for two more nights. Excitingly, my curtain-raiser Muffin Man was the winner  in this summer's Frome Festival comedy play competition, giving me the proud title "Bard of Frome" along with a goody-bag of spoils including honorary membership of Frome Writers' Collective,  and I'm even more thrilled that Ross Scott and Fleur Hanby Holmes are taking on this two-hander. They're both currently knee-deep in other productions  but made time for a run-through so promising I can hardly wait for October...

Also looking ahead, Annabelle and I are planning to take Time Walk, our promenade narration of the story of the earth in a thousand paces, to various venues around the region.  Our first booking has come from the American Museum which has a fantastic garden that will be great for a family-friendly version of our epic voyage. Here's Annabelle enthused by a Rackmanesquely magical wooded dell, and I'm lurking in the Kaffe Fasse exhibition which was put together by Kaffe himself with theatre designer Johan Engels, a marvellous mix of Klimt-like glitz and theatricality with masks and esoteric props.

So is that it? you ask ~ a couple of planning meetings with your bezzy mates & a run-through, a little light packing, and you're 'pressured'? Well no actually, there's a whole flotilla of other projects including my next 70-minute one-act play for Stepping Out Theatre Company, as well as finding time for personal stuff like the Gaza protest march in London and a balloon trip... which was sadly postponed because despite the glorious sunshine there's too much wind... luckily there's always something going on in Frome and this afternoon La Strada was hosting a soiree for Paul Newman's superb drawings, with songs from Sara Vian. Paul finds they 'mainline people to their own memories' ~ call in to see the exhibition upstairs, and you'll see why.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Bad Jews and worse Bolsheviks

Stalin's Daughter at the Brewery in Bristol has received so much attention and acclaim the run was extended by three days this week so I thought I ought to go. David Lane imagines Svetlana Alliluyeva telling us the tale of her years of refuge in Clifton in the early 1990s.  Kirsty Cox in Faraway Tree socks & sandals & frock takes the role of the traumatised child of the tyrant, arriving with a caseful of terrible memories and an imaginary friend and addressing her past and present simultaneously. Kirsty's long solo performance is a praiseworthy tour-de-force especially with so many mad / bad /dead and pretend people all inhabiting her room, including a potato man representing her papa. There's a lot about fruit too and some unresolved sexual tension with a green grocer. I think. I was expecting more insight into the historic aspect of the era though.
A fantastic full moon, bloated and dazzling, hung brighter than all the street lights in an indigo sky as I drove home. Wonderful.
Bad Jews, the current production at Ustinov Studio in Bath, was inspired when New York writer Joshua Harmon attended a service for 'grandchildren of survivors' that he found 'full of sterile clichés and scarily lacking in genuine feeling.' His response is this moving family-conflict drama. It's a comedy, and exactly the kind of humour you’d expect from Jewish comedy: rapid-fire, acerbic, provocative - and very funny. In fact it's so self-consciously in-your-face Jewish it takes a while to realise that what is at the heart of the story is their ordinary human traits, not their convictions ~ their longings and losses, not their dead grandfather’s chai, a gold medallion with religious & personal significance and the focus of conflict for these three mourning grandchildren. The witty tirades keep you laughing, and sometimes wincing, but at the heart of the story are profoundly important issues about how to deal with, and learn from, the pain of the past ~ which, according to Daphna, is carried for us all by the jews. She's a buzz of vituperative rage with a tongue like a heat-seeking missile especially when she discovers the treasured chai is headed to adorn the gentile neck of her cousin Liam's girlfriend. Her exchanges with Melody are relentlessly biting: 'Where did your family come from?' Daphna asks, eyeing her like a puff-adder watching a frog, and when the artless girl answers 'Delaware', she lashes her with American history before rephrasing 'So, where did your family come from before they came to Delaware to perpetrate genocide?' Liam is Daphna's main challenger, returning fire with equal passion, enraging her with his 'Bad Jew' identity and his contempt for 'the Chosen People talk', but he finds her Nazi code of tribal purity indefensible and identifies the flaw: 'You sound like someone who’s never been in love.' And it's quiet Jonah, we discover at the end, who represents a more private and personal way to deal with the past.
I haven't a single quibble with this marvellous production. It's directed by Michael Longhurst, Ilan Goodman as Liam and Jenna Augen are riveting in the lead roles, with Joe Coen's  Jonah and Gina Bramhill as Melody giving strong support.  The set (Richard Kemp) is excellent, and lighting (Richard Howell) and sound (Adrienne Quartly) deserve a mention too. So that's it. Take five stars, everyone.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Full moon medley

 Frome Writers Collective, launched this summer to stimulate writers in every genre, held a Flash Fiction contest in the Merlin foyer on Sunday. We heard 14 short tales with a twist, and winners by public vote were local writers Alison Clink and Tim Luther. A well-organised and entertaining event from team FWC~ and thanks also to Mary Macarthur whose gentle interview with me as the 'Bard of Frome' is currently featured on their homepage. I'm never sure what to say when asked for advice to the unconfident, so I hope it doesn't sound perverse to suggest "Do it the way you would do it if you could do it..." 
Playwright David Greig was asked for advice for a BBC Writers Room feature: his response is great, and all the better for referencing PG Wodehouse's maxim to 'apply the seat of the trousers to the surface of the chair'.
"The main thing is to get to the end. Don’t worry about the quality moment by moment but regard what you are writing as placeholders until you find out what you are doing and then improve it later. The creative stuff happens with the improving, honing, cutting, observing and chipping away. The simple act of getting through it is a huge, huge thing. The second thing is to always remember that your subconscious mind knows better than your conscious mind. Trust a bit of writing because it came to you by surprise and follow the byways of your subconcious rather than sticking rigidly to the dictates of your boring, conscious mind. We pay to hear things that surprise us." 
David Greig's latest play The Events had rave reviews but I missed it in London so this picture is from Midsummer, his sweet, clever, funny play from four years ago. I saw it, bought the script and saw it again and ~ because it's not plagiarism it's craft ~ used one of his techniques in my own play Muffin Man which won me the title Bard of Frome, tying in nicely with the opening of this post.

Words at the Black Swan writing group reconvened to interrogate Tristan Steven's esoteric & fascinating exhibition FIFTHWALL ~ here's a sample of the installations, and an image from a very different summer exhibition in La Strada where Paul Newman is showing his exquistite pencil drawings. Tristan invites viewers to 'Come and play in the sacred sand pit of life!' while Paul's images evoke a sense of elemental connection the awe and mystery of nature that's also in its own way child-like.

To complete this disparate batch of points to ponder, how about this: Whatever you think about amazon they appear to be working in your interests in one thing. A long email they sent out to all Kindle publishers yesterday reminds us that paperback technology was initially rejected by bookshops and writers alike ~ including even George Orwell ~ as destroying literary culture. Subsequent history, they claim, is pertinent. "Amazon and Hachette – a big US publisher and part of a $10 billion media conglomerate – are in the middle of a business dispute about e-books. We want lower e-book prices. Hachette does not. With an e-book, there’s no printing, no over-printing, no need to forecast, no returns, no lost sales due to out of stock, no warehousing costs, no transportation costs, and there is no secondary market – e-books cannot be resold as used books. E-books can and should be less expensive.  Just as paperbacks did not devalue or destroy book culture despite being ten times cheaper, neither will e-books."  They might undermine charity shop sales, though...

Friday, August 08, 2014

Pillow talk


There's no real scope for spoilers in Thérèse Raquin, adapted from Zola's novel by Helen Edmundson and showing now at Theatre Royal Bath: from the moment we meet petulant Camille we know he won't satisfy the smouldering stifled yearnings of his betrothed, and from the moment passionate Laurent steps into their lives we know that he will. We realise, too, that this will come to no good. And to no good it dramatically comes, with a second act as macabre as the first is torrid. "You have to make your own decisions about the way you tell the story and where you place emphasis" Helen Edmunson says, "I didn't want to be bound by the conventions of theatre at the time Zola was writing... I wanted to write an adaptation that was as wild, passionate and unfettered as the characters. I dramatise scenes that are only hinted at."  It works impressively well. This is a brilliant production, superbly directed by Jonathan Munby with movement, music and lighting combining to create a sequence of dreamlike, and nightmarish, scenes.  The cast are superb too, Hugh Skinner almost too charismatic as infantalised Camille but Kieran Bew has convincing chemistry and Pippa Nixon is flawless as flawed Thérèse.
Here's the lovers before they were overwhelmed with post-traumatic stress that made the Macbeths seem merely rueful, and here's Alison Steadman looking like Queen Victoria with the painting that makes her son look like Michael Gove. It's a terrific show, go see.

Murderous behaviour of a different sort in Frome as local theatre company Tic Tac Toe brought Martin McDonagh's award-winning black comedy The Pillowman to the Merlin.  From the opening scene there's a mix of Kafkaesque oppression with absurdly funny dialogue, as two secret policemen isolate and threaten to torture Katurian Katurian for horrific crimes which he has apparently written into being... It's a story about story-telling, and how fairy-tales and experience both shape our realities, which writhes with twists till the bitter end, and no-one is simply what they first seem.
So no spoilers for this one, I'll just say production values & performances are amazing: Ross Scott and Simon Joyce as the brothers in this grim tale-telling scenario are brilliant, with Laurence Parnell and Andrew Morrison terrific too as the good-cop/bad-cop duo. Sadly it's only on for one more night... if it's not past 7.45 pm on Saturday already as you read this, scamper down to the Merlin even if you 'don't usually go in for "-esque" stories'... this one will keep you thinking long after the shock and the laughter have subsided.

Monday, August 04, 2014

Can life still be funny when people die? Shaw thought so.

Much of the hilarity in Illyria's current touring production of The Pirates of Penzance comes from speedy dexterity of role-change by a small, highly-energetic, cast as well as Gilbert & Sullivan's absurd words and Goonish storyline.  Swashbuckling pirates, winsome daughters and lose-some police, everyone morphed and bounded into all of these characters and more ~ special credit to Thomas Heard for including a Modern Major General in his multi-tasking and speed-singing too.


Oliver Gray's direction ensures a fast-paced & very physical interpretation with surprises even for those who know the show better than I do ~ Queen Victoria herself pops in at one point.  James Dangerfield is strong as Frederick the piratical apprentice who values duty over love (and common sense) but wins the heart of Anna Brook Mitchell's marvellously shrill Major-General's daughter, and Christopher Barlow whether soft-hearted Pirate King or sprig-frocked girl is always magnetic.
But everyone was terrific, and so engagingly watchable I wanted to rewind and see it all again, a view that appeared shared by around 400 happy picnicking punters at Manor Farm Corsley on Friday night. A superbly well-run event ~ regular Elizabethan Evenings are run here & other venues could take notes from their organisation ~ this performance opened with a short curtain-raiser from local talent and closed with the sky still a deep Mediterranean blue... a perfect evening.

Nunney Street Fair, also on Saturday, featured a historical story too ~ this one authentic.
The Little Victory Ball is a short street performance devised by a Frome-based theatre group of the same name, using researched fragments from diaries, letters, poems, and newspapers to tell the real story of the public's response to Armistice Day and the loss of their sons, lovers, and fathers. Simply told and profoundly moving, illustrated with songs & spectacle and even humour, it's an ideal show for families with children of any age. I was especially struck to realise massive public grief started long before 'Diana-syndrome': when the Unknown Soldier was brought to London to commemorate the loss of those thousands never named, there was a 7-mile queue to place flowers on the Cenotaph and women waited for up to six hours, many sobbing, some shrieking & fainting. Fascinating too for anyone with an interest in women's history ~ did you know 400 of the girls working in the munitions factories died of TNT poisoning? They were told it wasn't dangerous, so when their skin went yellow they joked about being canaries.  As Frederick the reluctant pirate says, "I don't think much of our profession but compared to respectability, at least it's honest."
And on the subject of survivors, Frome's own lost soldier returned officially on Sunday with the dedication of the newly-instated statue of Charlie Robbins, a worker at Singers chosen to honour all the fallen of the town and mysteriously lost after Singer's factory closed. Frome has struggled over the right to retain the Memorial Hall itself so this was a particularly significant event, with poems from children exemplifying the prayer "May this be a place where the legion of the living salutes the legion of the dead."
George Bernard Shaw famously said "Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh", and as well as poignancy there's relief, rather than disrespect, in such juxtapositions. While veterans in war medals were gathering at the Memorial Hall, most of the families of Frome were sauntering in the sunshine along traffic-free roads at the Independent Market, this month with added seaside as the Market Yard featured a vast sandpit with paddling pool, beach toys and even donkey rides... and a nearby Gaza protest crowded with supporters. Lovely Sara Vian played at the Archangel & the Cornerhouse Jazz Jam went on till late, but there's a candle-lit vigil at the Memorial Hall tonight, as Frome flamboyantly shows how true Shaw's maxim is.

Friday, August 01, 2014

... there grow flowers ...

When I was growing up my mother told me I was born in an air raid ~ I've checked date & location online and it's true, the bomb devastated nearby Vauxhall ~ but nothing more of that war was ever spoken of, either at school or at home. My father was a young man in the one before it, the Great War, but was deemed delicate so immune from service. The night before he died he broke a silence on the subject that had lasted all my life: "Before the war," he said, "I had three friends. By the end of the war I had none."  So these current WWI reflections, or 'celebrations' as our leaders like to call them, have a particular poignancy for me, as it was too late then to fill in the missing history of loss & grief or to console for his long years of quiet desperation. And after the political cynicism at the start of this centenary year I didn't expect to see anything as affecting as Anthem for Doomed Youth at the Imperial War Museum twelve years ago, but Frome On The Frontline at our town museum has come up with an exhibition that's informative, child-friendly, and deeply moving too. Especially touching is the case-study of local lad Harry Horwood, whose polite, affectionate, letters to his mother are displayed along with his photo and fags and other effects including the commemoration given his relatives in recognition of their sad bereavement...  This temporary exhibition is on throughout August, do go if you're around in Frome even if you think you're sick of 1914 ~ you can make your own medal and have your picture taken in a Red Cross Nurse's outfit too.
Words & Ears poetry cafe had a memorial event led by Peter Wyton whose poem Unmentioned in Despatches is in the new edition of the New Oxford Book of War Poetry. Not a funny night, as Peter warned us, but with some profoundly moving individual tributes as well as many shared personal favourites ~ my contribution was Roger McGough's On Picnics, which says so much so simply. Peter read a selection from the anthology in his idiosyncratic style a long way from hype & hyperbole: Wilfred Owen, he told us, 'had a particularly horrid time' before dying so close to the armistice that bells were tolling in celebration when the news reached his home village. Dawn Gorman, who runs and comperes this excellent Bradford-on-Avon event, read an extract from All Quiet on the Western Front still tragically topical:  “I am young, I am twenty years old; yet I know nothing of life but despair, death, fear, and fatuous superficiality cast over an abyss of sorrow. I see how peoples are set against one another, and in silence, unknowingly, foolishly, obediently, innocently slay one another.”   Also especially touching was Richard Carder's sharing of Ivor Gurney's short reflection on mortality The Songs I Had and Alan Summer's lucent haiku: The grass grows dark / a lamentation of swans / shape my world. As Dawn says, we are the products of survival so this is not morbidity but a celebration of life.  
And so much to celebrate this summer! Like, a fabulous fortnight of festivities with family and friends for my Big Birthday celebrations (you can check how big from the opening line of this post if you don't know from facebook) and an exciting sequel to my winning the title Bard of Frome in a public stage-off during Frome Festival: Muffin Man will be performed again as curtain-raiser to the Nevertheless autumn production in October with hot-property actors Ross Scott and Fleur Hanby-Holmes ~ full details still under wraps but to be revealed soon... 

Monday, July 28, 2014

Murder Most Foul, Criminals, and other capers

Not one of Shakespeare's frolicking fantasies but a gory history set mostly in granite castles, I thought Macbeth would be hard to stage effectively in the ECOS grassy amphitheatre space of Frome's Merlin Theatre, and Illyria had a balmy evening and the after-glow of the Children's Festival to contend with too. It's huge credit to the five actors that as well as clearly conveying a complex storyline that involves 20 characters, they also evoked the poignancy of this tragedy of a good man corrupted by ambition. William Finkenrath as Macbeth and Theresa Brockway, marvellous as his lady, were compelling in their passionate scenes together, egging each other on to reckless atrocities.
It was a good move to play the weird sisters for comedy ~ especially in act 2, when they appear as a kind of crusty trio from a minor music festival ~ and Matthew Rothwell's drunken porter made the most of his audience-interactive moments. But the highlight of the show has to be the fantastic swordfight when Macduff (Beau Jeavons White) ends Macbeth's murderous meteoric rise to power. 
Director Oliver Gray has a reputation for meticulous adaptations and (though for me he could have cut the long speech in the final act where Malcolm is being a bit of a prat) the energy & clarity of story-telling is remarkable in this fast-paced version.
And as dreadful histories were unfolding at the Merlin, downtown the Frome Children's Festival was drawing to a triumphant close with PeeWee Ellis and Huey Morgan funking it up at the Cheese&Grain to a family audience which may not remember the Fun Lovin' Criminals but knew how to dance.
A fit ending to a fantastic event offering fascinating activities under mini-marquees in the market yard and Welshmill playground, and along the woodland river path between. The focus was on curiosity and creativity, with drama workshops & dressing up, circus skills, young bands, canoeing & pump track action, for ages from tots to teens all thronged with enthusiastic takers. I especially enjoyed making leaf prints in Shared Earth Forest School with Frome's eco-enterprising Mayor resplendent in crisp-packet chain. Congratulations Rachel Griffin & all the organisers, brilliant day.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Hamlet underground, Hare in Skylight.

If it's summer there must be Shakespeare... as ubiquitous as music festivals and Pimms, outdoor versions of the bards works emerge from the foliage of parks and gardens across the southwest. And not just outdoor venues: Bristol Shakespeare Festival includes, among an exciting programme throughout July, Butterfly theatre company's production of Hamlet in the Redcliffe Caves.
These caverns are low ceilinged, and labyrinthine, lit largely by candles, a fantastic setting for dark melodrama. As audience we hastened, shuffling rather than promenading, along tiny passages to voyeur each new strand in this murderous web of intrigue. Our torches flickered on the faces of the innocent and the guilty, shadows flickered on the walls, Ophelia's beautiful mad song echoed softly and the angry ghost's death-rattle haunted the rocks...  and there were two terrific set-pieces in a more open, clearly-lit, space: a comedy act by the players hired by Hamlet to 'catch the conscience of the king' effectively involving random audience members, and the final death-fest, a dramatic sword fight as all the still-surviving main characters slaughter each other.  Vigorously abridged and pacily acted ~ the kings, both living and dead, especially strong ~ there was only one faltering step in my book and that was the replacement of Shakespeare's marvellously sententious creation Polonius for a bustling Mrs Bennett who had to be bricked squeaking to death without benefit of arras. Other than that small quibble, an excellent show, atmospheric and gruesomely entertaining, and I would be urging you to go see, except it's now sold out for the rest of the run.

David Hare's 1995 play Skylight, now revived by the National Theatre at Wyndhams and on nt Live screening, also begins with an angry young man railing about his surviving parent. This tale however isn't about revenge but atonement, as businessman Tom reconnects with ex-lover teacher Keyra in a passionate clash of ideals.
"I wanted to write a love story" the playwright tells Emma Freud in an interval interview, "and I've never written a play set in a room." With so much of the dialogue polarised argument I'm not convinced on the first aim but the play is certainly set in a room, though the title feature was in a different room and created by Tom for his dying wife, apparently in guilt for his infidelity. This room is Keyra's, and it's easy to share Tom's feeling there's something wilful in a woman on an Inner London teacher's salary with no dependents, or even the cost of running a car, choosing anywhere quite so dismal and unheated. There's a lot of 'relevance' still in the couple's debates, and some very funny lines but, especially with filmic close-ups emphasising the age-difference, the relationship doesn't really convince. Nevertheless, big credit to Merlin Theatre for bringing these ntLive shows to an appreciative full-house audience ~ this one's getting sizzling 5-star reviews from live audience reviewers ~ and I'll be at the next screening, though probably still churlishly muttering I'd rather be there in the flesh... 

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Bootleggers and running shoes ~ it's all go in Frome

Makeshift Musicals are back at the Merlin! A year on from their first show, Daisy Graham directs another medley of highlights from musicals reconstructed in a new storyline with an exhuberant cast and live band. New York State of Mind, scripted by Lily Sweeney, is set in a speakeasy at the start of prohibition and this all-young company revels in the potential offered by the era. The Charleston dancers are a delight, the politician is suitably corrupt, and love prevails despite star-crossing. The mostly-teenage cast (Jack Brotherton as bootlegger Sam is the Bugsy Malone-style member of troupe at just 11) are all talented and watchable, with some outstanding performances ~ including a show-stopping version of You're just too good to be true by Ben Hardy-Phillips. A joyous & thoroughly enjoyable performance.

From tap-dance to foot-slog: this Sunday 750 runners took to the streets for the Frome Half Marathon. I'd really wanted to join them this year, so next best thing was to be a marshall. In my racing days I never realised what complex organisation went on behind the scenes ~ it was a military operation, though a good-humoured one. The senior marshalls do all the complex stuff with maps and Police liaise, I just turned up for a couple of briefings & got to wear a yellow jacket and put out cones which later may have to be justified to drivers who hadn't noticed the road closure notices around the town ~ I was lucky as 99% politely complied, only one bully opted for pavement driving and argument ~ and then you stand in the sunshine clapping as hundreds of runners steam, saunter, and struggle past. This takes over two hours so my reluctantly idle legs were envious of my energetic arms by the end.
 Here's some of the steamers, 183 is Tom Dudden from Bath, still turbo-charged near the end of the half-marathon which he won in a tidy 1.19  seven full minutes before second place, and 243 is Diane Hier, first female in 1hr.43 and one of the amazing Avon Valley contingency. Frome's Paul Ryman (790) romped to victory in the 10K - and the bear is a Frome Running Club member too... Most runners opted for the traditional vest and shorts: Superman, Wonderwoman, two fairies, and a monk, all well deserved their cheers for crowd entertainment.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Back to (sur)reality

Franz Kafka was so ambivalent about his work he begged friend & fellow-writer Max Brod to burn it all when he died. Max’s betrayal, paradoxically, became his own main claim to fame, while Kafka himself is now considered one of the most influential writers of the 20th Century. A thought to ponder, and Kafka's Dick at Theatre Royal Bath does just that. In fellow-Czech Milan Kundura’s novel Immortality,Hemingway and Goethe meet in heaven to discuss the downside of endless fame and Hemingway protests bitterly “Our books will probably soon stop being read, but people will never stop prying into your life, down to the smallest details.” Alan Bennett’s Kafka, metamorphosing into a suburban Yorkshire living-room via a tortoise, has similar concerns. Surreal fantasy combines with 1980s sit-com as Kafka faces both his fame and his father, imposingly played by Matthew Kelly as a kind of vicious version of Alfred Doolittle arriving to claim his own perks from his child’s unexpected new status. David Grinley’s direction has some great staging: notably Kafka’s ‘trial’, and physical comedy between Max Brod ~ who has materialised by pissing on the tortoise incarnation of Kafka, get it? ~ and Sydney the insurance man obsessed with Kafka ~ who was also an insurance man ~ I’m sure you get it… as they vigorously attempt to hide all the tell-tale biographies before Kafka can see them. 
But it’s not all post-modernist cleverness and social cliché: in the second act the playwright gives the most telling lines to the ditzy housewife while her wannabe-famous- writer husband insists “Gossip about writers is what passes for culture.”  All the actors are superb, especially the double-act of Daniel Weyman’s Kafka and Elliot Levey’s Max Brod, who in the opening (pre-death) moments set the scene for dark absurdist comedy with Monty-Pythonesque half-looks to audience. Robert Innes Hopkins’ excellent set surprises till the end, and Jason Taylor’s lighting design deserves a mention too.
“Man doesn’t know how to be mortal,” was Goethe opinion in Kundura's heaven, “and when he dies he doesn’t even know how to be dead.”  A good thought to conclude another 'frivolous fantasy' on immortality, and whatever existentialist angst Kafka endured in life or dramatic reincarnation, his eventual exit was absolutely sublime ~ if that dance macabre was on Youtube, I’d play it on a loop. Showing in the Main House till July 26th.

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Frome Festival finale...

A morning exploration of more of the magical 'hidden gardens' of Frome, where pools are definitely trending... my special favourites the tranquility of Dr Moxton's carp pool, and Alice Naish's wild-life-friendly garden welcoming newts, birds, and an evening hedgehog.
Then on to the Library where best-selling author Lesley Pearse, senior judge of the Frome Short Story competition, was handing out the winners' cheques.
Entries come from all over the world, so reaching the short-list is a real accolade for writers.  Lesley's top tip is "Persistence!" ~ and a healthy dose of longing too: "Don't be afraid to dream about it, because that's what will make it happen." Cheques handed to all the finalists, with Kerry Hood overall winner, and we adjourn to Divas for buffet & informal chat. Here's Lesley entertaining us in the library, and the top winners.

You'd think festival fatigue might have set in, but the Cornerhouse was crammed by 6 oclock for the Pete Gage Band, a sensational line-up of musicians fronted by charismatic Pete Gage himself. There wasn't really space to breathe, but we managed to, and to dance too.

So that's it, our revels now are ended, Frome Festival a receding memory... until October, when we start making plans for 2015...