listen up north!

Amateur Dramatics

It’s that time of year again when lofts and garages are ransacked in search of all manner of dated paraphernalia – winged back chairs, bureaus, sugar shakers, a 1965 Daily Telegraph. Charity shops are scoured for outfits – tweed suits, brogues, pork pie hats and the like.  The stage of our local village hall here in Northumberland undergoes total transformation thanks to a team of dedicated handymen (and handywomen) who perch precariously on ladders to ensure the floral pattern wallpaper reaches to every corner and the scene outside the French windows really does look like an English country garden and not the local refuse tip. And don’t slam that door too hard on ‘exits left’ or you will cause an earthquake in the vicarage of Stebbington Fawley. Yes it’s time for the grown-ups version of the dressing up corner – our local village amateur dramatics’ annual performance.

This years it’s ‘I’ll Get My Man’, a farce by Philip King and the whole process of putting it together is in itself somewhat farcical.  Those normally sane and rational, are observed, preoccupied and chanting as they walk about the village: the dress rehearsal  looms and lines must be learnt.  Preparation has been underway for three months and now comes the fruition of everyone’s labour.  An intensive and frantic four nights practice on the stage including dress rehearsal before 3 nights’ performance means that nerves are jangling and the luvvies must be handled like radioactive isotopes.  Assembly and organisation of props is an operation of military precision right down to that all-important teaspoon but fingers crossed that the Heath Robinson arrangement of wires and switches really will deliver the authentic sound of a bakelite telephone precisely when it’s needed. 

I have been grandly named as Assistant Director on the programme, which means I filled in for a few rehearsals, rather ineffectively, when our director wasn’t there. (No-one who has been in every performance for the past 30+ years is going to take a bit of notice of an upstart like me). I also used my recently acquired skills from a radio production course to record the sound effect of women screaming – great fun and very therapeutic for those involved. Despite all the tension, when  it comes right on the night it’s a wonderful feeling and you realise that you’re all part of a team and (hopefully) all pulling in the same direction. 

And I am very grateful to my friends in the village am dram for all their support in performing and allowing me to record my audiodramas.  As a writer they have allowed me the great joy of hearing my words brought to life.  Thanks to Jodie, Mark and Karen for their endless patience and enthusiasm in my pilot audiodrama Couple (approx 8 mins), an imaginary conversation between the two figures created by sculptor Sean Henry and sited on the breakwater off Newbiggin-by-the-Sea on the Northumberland coast. 

Couple - an Audiodrama by Rachel Cochrane

Also the play Village Notes (approx 45 mins) which stars the wonderful character actor Howard.  It's the story of a middle class, middle aged woman and her less than respectable goings on to find news for the hard pressed Editor of the local newspaper. 

  VillageNotes final edit

I hope you enjoy listening to them as much as I did creating them.

 

 

 

 

 

Clotted Cream

  First thing you notice about crossing the equator to Devon is the change in temperature; it’s the end of October and almost shirtsleeves despite grey skies. Down to see Wonderhubby’s family it’s a welcome break but of course catching e-mails on the iPhone is a hard habit to switch off.  We stay nearby in a comfortable B&B overlooking fields of horses and beautiful autumn woodland.   We take a walk around Exeter, a once ancient city, almost flattened by WW2 bombs and largely rebuilt although some of the beautiful old buildings and alleyways still remain including the cathedral.

Despite the unseasonal temperature, dark soon closes in and we go to Killerton a local National Trust house and grounds open to walk round in the evenings leading upto Halloween.  The lights give the appropriate spooky effect: 

 

The next day is another grey one also with a clinging dampness as we sample the delights of the British seaside in Teignmouth.  I manage to dodge the doggy droppings along the promenade and avoid being whitewashed by a passing seagull but I am pleasantly surprised by the appearance of the town, much smarter than I imagined with newly renovated Georgian buildings along the front and an old fashioned pier and it’s vibrant with half term visitors .

Next onto Dawlish Warren and under the railway bridge which runs right on the edge of the coastline to find a funfair (which Teen2 describes as ‘not too tacky’) and then on to walk between the sea and a nature reserve, out towards the Exe Estuary.  The waves crash dramatically against the groynes and a row of brightly painted huts brighten the dull day.

Our final day is a drive over to Lyme Regis for a flying visit to meet up with Wonderhubby’s aunties and sister just over the border into Dorset.  We sit in the grounds of The Alexandra Hotel on a day which is warmer than the height of Summer in Northumberland , perched high above the harbour and looking down onto The Cobb, the promontory featured in both The French Lieutenant’s Woman and Jane Austen’s Emma:

 

Afterward we go for a walk along The Cobb.  Under the wall, there are benches at intervals and I stop at each one and add ‘In memoriam’ dedication inscriptions from them into my notebook.  I am collecting these for a story when at last I’ve got all the business side of things under control and I can actually get back to being a writer.  Tomorrow we head back for the frozen tundra of Northumberland hopefully leaving with a little inspiration from ‘down South’.