Was a play written and performed by the Little Bridge Theatre Group. It was running Wed-Fri at the EM Forster Theatre which is part of Tonbridge School - and if you ever get the chance go and look at that for a school! It's an amazing building and the grounds out the back as the sun was setting were, for a Kentish Maid like me, a treat to see. Shame that to get to it from the station you pass through a High Street were you get chatted up 'Alright love, fancy a drink with me?' Never happens in London I fear.
I was as so often is the case by myself - which was for the best. Thankfully the theatre had a bar so I could neck a can of John Smith's in a safe environment as opposed to the offered Wetherspoons distraction.
At 7.30 we were ushered into the studio. The company ranged across the ages - from I would guess late 60's through to a young lad of perhaps 5 or 6. Between them they had interwoven aspects of their lives to create a montage of story lines to which Verity viewed with cynicism and hardness.
The stories dealt with aging, loss, betrayal (almost), miracles, childhood ill treatment and death. SO life then.
It was a promenade piece so I was part of the performance just by standing in the audience. I have to say the 2 hour piece (with an interval and another can of John Smiths) went really swiftly despite the strain on the knees - suggesting it was indeed a powerful and entrancing piece. There were a few forgotten lines - but the scenes of children dealing with their aging parents struck a cord. There was a moving scene with a lung cancer patient which this week has significant resonance for me. And there was a moment when the young boy got separated from his parents. Unlike my brother he did not catch the train home. The best line 'sometimes its not so much finding the right words as the right ears'.
So why was I there?
Well there is a strange thing in my life that somehow keeps me connected to certain people whom I have met in odd or extreme circumstances. This was the 3rd time I had been in the same room as The Actor. The 2nd longest time we've been in the same room together in fact. It was incredibly odd. When we spoke to each other it was like the real Karen was elsewhere - and instead this uber luvvie version appeared. I was so full of joy to see him so well and so where he should be I wanted to burst with smiles. The performance had made me think. The scenes he was in - were they based on his experiences? We shall talk soon about all this I know. He will demand my opinion, listen to it and reflect on it and challenge me again. I always seem to give more than I get. Yet seeing him was a positive not a negative experience. All the mixed messages and highs & lows of our former selves less important. It's been several years and much has happened to each of us. After the performance I bolted for the loo but inevitably came face to face with him as I left. We talked - he walked me out of the theatre understanding I had to catch a train, and we agreed, footie soon. It was a floaty feeling. One of confirmation for me at least that my instincts about the guy were right. I was very very taken by him way back when. But now as a static character he has rushed past so often he was once more stood before me. Recognition. Can't change the past. But sure as hell can learn from it.
As for me, I had chalked up another solo diversion that went well and made me smile and made me feel like a cat stalking the rooftops as she returned to London swaying her flares and squeaking her leathers.
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