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Posted on Thursday Nov 19 0:00:00 GMT 2009 Sunday, November 1, 2009
I haven’t written for a while. I’ve been off taking a holiday with my heavily restored heritage boat (I have a heritage dog, a heritage car and a heritage lawnmower, since you ask. And a heritage beard.) I had to finish off my year’s film work too before I abandon the palpable world of normal human relations to become Fagin for six months, which is more like seven or eight if you include rehearsals. I feel the cell doors swinging shut. No social life, no Saturdays, no Christmas. But that mysterious old warren Drury Lane to explore. I mustn’t get lost on the way to the stage. It frightens the audience. My neighbour Matthew’s mother forgetfully says I’m off to do Shylock, by mistake. Perhaps I should make it the double, and flick a coin every night. Posted on Wednesday Sep 2 0:00:00 BST 2009 We had an open day in Wales to celebrate finishing the work to the mill we are restoring there. Everything went to some sort of plan. We staged a play, people came, they toured the house and cottage and attended the recitals and lectures in the potato barn. All great except that we hadn’t actually finished. The main floor was delayed. The lime plaster was still drying out. The crog loft was without its planks and none of the furniture had arrived. It didn’t seem to matter. Visitors were over-joyed to see the half-finished place. Rather more than I was anyway. I had been using the celebration as a prod to industry for some time. Still, the advantage of a premature celebration is that you can have another real one when it is due.
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