The most charming man greets us at Marchington, which is the first of our two Staffordshire dates this week. He's not the contact name on our list, but after a heavily deviated journey the tea he makes go down well. When our contact Julia does arrive, she reveals that he's on day release from the local open prison at Sudbury. Whatever he was in for, it wasn't because he couldn't put a brew together, and I don't remember any actors disappearing in this area lately....
In the more rural venues, the audience is generally my age or above, but we're buttonholed by two embryo actors tonight who are in their teens. It's difficult not to try to distil many years' experience of training, fringe, touring, etc into a five minute conversation, so we look for signs of eyes glazing and try to hold off the more abstruse details. My conversation with the father is very positive, though, he's clearly behind them 100% and not put off by the prospect of having to bail them out for the next, oooh, thirty years or so.
I should probably give him my Dad's phone number.
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