As expected, our one night in Westcliff at the Palace Theatre is going to be busy - Essex being the spiritual home of "Abigail's Party". Mike Leigh states that he set it in "Theoretical Romford" but I've run into people exactly like Beverly all over the place, and I used an Oxford friend of my father's as a maquette when working out what Laurence should be like. So it's pretty universal.
It's early when we arrive and, with a few hours to kill, we mooch down to the seafront and eat ice-creams in the sunshine. There are some drawbacks to this job, but the upside can be enormous.
The downside is that sometimes your hands and mouth don't seem to function normally, and when your moves are being watched by a few hundred people that is a problem. I never intended playing L. as clumsy but tonight he's dropping bottle tops, clouting furniture, spilling ash into food and knocking things over. Plus he can't pronounce "Clittingham" anymore, a word which is an open manhole for an actor at the best of times. I am urged by Michael (director) to "just be a bit better" at the interval and, for once, he may not be joking...
There's a great moment tonight which will never happen again. It's scripted that Tony reappears in Act II and, when Ange asks him where he's been, he says "Southend". They go mad.
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