France

Happy with the Leicester show, and continually tweaking it ahead of all the many festivals that are creeping in for later in the year, I had to shift focus completely to the other imminent new project, a more serious piece of writing (but still a comedy) that was to open in France just two weeks after the other play had just launched. 

I'd been writing that at the same time as writing the two-hander I've got coming up with Esther, both very different shows and both lost me a bit of sleep. Of course, day-to-day stuff also had to take priority momentarily; teaching long hours, another blues gig at the hotel (we were pretty good that time), a guest appearance at the school where we filmed Harvey Greenfield, that sort of thing. Mostly, just dashing around and keeping people happy. But this also mostly makes me happy, despite Cambridge traffic. The film was nominated for an award in Barcelona but none of us were able to make it and we didn't win anyway, but still - it's nice to get noticed even more on the international stage. 

To open a new show in a different country is always fun; I did this with another play two years ago where it opened in New York. Just keeps things fresh, adds a little extra excitement to the whole thing. This one, however, was a tricky beast to write and judging the tone of it is crucial. Not wishing to give away the plot, as I'd like you, dear reader, to see it at some point, but writing a comedy about such a sensitive issue could go horribly wrong, but it's exactly the kind of risk I wanted to take at the start of this year. 

Happy with my script, and intensively rehearsing every night, it was soon nearly show week, which fell nicely into half-term. A day before travelling, I performed the show in front of director/mate Cara and it was such a relief when a majority of it landed. Cara's amazing at picking out any bits that need attention without sounding like she didn't enjoy it, and bits that would improve the tempo of the piece without causing me too stress given the time restraints. 

The next day, I was on a plane to Lyon with Esther (who joined me for this journey, mostly so we can spend a little time discussing our own forthcoming show, but also because she's part of my theatre company and is nice to have around, and also because there is beer) and then a bunch of us theatre-types were picked up by the lovely Lydia who drive us at terrifying speed in a tiny Citreon C2 across town for two hours until we eventually arrived in stunning Thier. 

This was all for the launch of John's new theatre. John is a remarkable performer, and friend, who I first met at the Edinburgh fringe a couple of years ago, via our mutual friend, Julia, who was also part of this event. He's built a theatre in the middle of nowhere and invited a load of his chums over to perform in the new space. 

After welcome drinks and pizza, with introductions and stories a plenty, we retired back to our digs where everyone could sleep and I could panic about my show. 

The next two days were a whirlwind of gorgeous company, wonderful food, workshops (I ran a drum workshop on the second day) and, of course, lots of lovely shows - everything I saw, I enjoyed. 

My own show settled really quickly. It's a show that relies heavily on pauses, on silence, on 'clowning' (which I didn't know I did, but it turns out I do - spending at least four minutes at the start of piece struggling to put on a bowtie), all of which landed perfectly on the second night. The first night had a nervous energy which audiences loved, but it's what I do a lot and was trying to avoid. On the first night I felt there was a key plot twist which went unnoticed so rewrote it for the second night, but it made it mega heavy-handed. Audiences tend not to see this stuff, but that's why it's still a working progress. But still, for a very new show I was overwhelmed by how developed it felt so early on, so naturally. 

Esther, like Cara back in Cambridge, was a remarkable brain to have onside, picking out little things, even odd words, that don't fit the narrative, little tonal issues ("this a really poignant moment, why did you have to throw in a line there about your massive testicles? Stop looking for laughs all the time") and reassurance that I'm on the right track with the show, and you, know, life and that. 

Karaoke was sang terribly, admiration for the live band every night was genuine. Real, proper, friendships made. It took me a while to work out how John had managed to get it so...so right. How did he meet all these people, and bring us together? Julia simply believes that "John likes doers" - and suddenly it all makes sense.

One of my favourite weekends ever. Fact. 

***

The morning after, Esther and I took a two and a half hour bus across town,  back to the airport, where Wizz Air overbooked our flights, were extraordinarily rude to us, were the most unprofessional company I've ever encountered (and, let's be honest, I've dealt with a lot of wankers over the years) and, 11 hours later, we ended up splashing out £750 each to get a British Airways Flight home instead (which was very comfy). 

I'm keen for that to not be my memory of the France trip, though. Apart from the journey home, it was a joy and I'd do it again in a heartbeat.