Hello to all, long time no blog!
It has been just over a month now since the very last Memory Points tour took place in the south bank centre and what an absolute pleasure it was to be part of such a precious piece of art. Now of course the rooms we brightened will have been pulled apart by the men and women in fluorescent jackets as they see about the beginning of a huge renovation project for the South bank centre. It was quite touching to know that we were the last to perform in the Purcell room and around the Queen Elizabeth Hall and it was truly bizarre to see the place being de-constructed slowly day by day.
Any object or space not claimed by Platform 4 was likely to disappear at any moment. On almost every tour, myself, Jordan and Maria would notice that something else had changed. This fascinatingly served as another metaphor for Alzheimer’s and Dementia as once known spaces deteriorated around us and often appeared completely new. Completely new too was the presence of a competing tour group! The national trust high-vis brigades were touring some of the same spaces as us which led to some very interesting and sometimes very strange encounters indeed! Most of the time though we managed to tour in harmony.
What follows really aren’t too many more words as I wonder what I can say about the show that I haven’t typed in these black spaces before. So rather I give you lots of photographs of our time in London and try to show you images and different perspectives of an old building and beautiful show that are otherwise unseen. And a poem at the end to round it all off, (what else?).
Below: A mouse! In-house artists of the foyer. (What will happen to them in the big refurb?)
Above: An actor prepares
Below: An actor prepares
Below: Vintage lit
Below: Mirrorball in flux
Above: Sacha and Sacha!
Below: An actor prepares
Below: Blurred Stage
Above: Resting in the green room, Left to right: Jill, Matt, Jules, Pete and Ralf.
Below: Light the way
Above: Moved by music
Below: A Darren’s eye view
I realise there are a lot of photographs here, but I just couldn’t pick between them!
Don’t worry, there isn’t much longer to go, suggest your own captions as you go along if you like.
What about this one?
To the left is a sneaky view from behind a tour that Jordan led. Don’t worry, I wasn’t caught, the magic was in safe hands!
Think you can do better?
(Yes, of course you can).
Above: Waiting for the tour
Below: Ms Whyte guides the way in the tunnels
Above: Dressing up
Below: Hayley and Hayley!
Below: Graffiti on the commute
Above: Pulling in to Waterloo
Below: Reflected art
Below: Blurred tunnels
Above: Watching on
Below: Raising a glass
Above: The wonderful everyone! (Well almost, no Jill Dowse Sacha Lee or Darren in this photo) Top row from left to right: Maria, Kate, Nicky, Pete, Cath, Ralf, Mr Chalmers, Bobby, Dave and Matt. Below are Jules, Hayley and Jordan.
Below: The brains behind it all, the boss, the Catherine Church. To you, thank you.
And thank you to every single person who came to see the show, every amazing person who inspired it back in Eastleigh and all the bright beautiful people we have met along the way; working in the venues, on bars, in cafes, ensuring we were fed and watered. And a personal thank you to each of you in that photograph up there, you are, each of you fantastic. My nannny passed away during the time of the show and without your support and something good to focus on I don’t know how I would have coped. Bless you, each and every one.
All my love,
These strangest of moments
Existing five then four then three
The violinists face is his third,
The double bassist always stands
Playing from another town,
Pianists and partners have other masks
Than they used to,
And for a time, the man behind the chimes
The one who sings once grew a full head of hair
And before didn’t sing at all.
That blue dress thrice a different spinning ballerina,
And white blond once stalked each tour
Before jet blacked brown steadied us.
And Bobby was always Bobby
Until now Darren with shadow of Dave.
The clarinet has seen every space and
Every stage and every show
And so have these eyes,
That look now and then not to the present
But can only see past moments;
Can see Edd readying dead leaves,
James gently serving tea,
Heather enchanting corridors with light,
And Amy, Benny, Gerry, Su, Lynne
And names and names and names
Becomes each walk deja vu in waiting,
Triggered, then not.
I swear I see the ghosts of us
From a year past.
I am sure
As I take second charge,
Terry will escort me,
Walking back to happiness.
I will turn,
And I will see myself.