Home Town

Our first week back in the mainland is split between Cambridge and Bury St Edmunds, and over the years I've been to Cambridge a fair bit, both for work and for play. I came to the Trinity Ball here when my brother-in-law graduated (in law, as it happens) and I ate an oyster which made me so sick I ruined some picnickers dinner by vomiting on the lawns. Also, it is home to an American friend of mine who lectures here. 

One of the Great Eternal Truths of Theatre is that when you get to my age, friends will only see a show if do it for them in their living room. But then they've seen you in so much unutterable crud over the years that they can't be blamed for being a touch wary. Now this isn't quite my friend's living room, but it's definitely on her doorstep and I confess I'm pretty surprised that she is too busy to come. When your job is showing yourself off in public, I guess you take it personally if people don't want to see the exhibits. However, as younger and wiser friends point out, perhaps she feels the limited time she has is better spent talking to me rather than watching me...   

I've never taken anything to Oxford, my real home town, except when I was a bratty child actor working for the Oxford Playhouse Company. However, I did tour "Dealer's Choice" to the seaside resort where I spent every summer as a kid. The venue had only just been built and had excellent facilities, it was a perfect summer evening and publicity was well in hand. Having played some very small and remote halls, we were looking forward to a bit of a treat.

No-one came at all. I still shudder now when I visit.