Moving House

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Mr Darby and the Child of Destiny

In two days time I head back to Exeter. Since handing in the dissertation, I’ve being doing anything I can that isn’t drama related. Unfortunately, such a notion isn’t really that possible. When you study a subject in detail, you’re let behind the curtain, so that its very presence permeates into reality. Potential PhD topics drift past me all the time, and you can’t ignore them, because one of them will be what I will devote three years of my life to.

However, distracted I have been, spending most of the time with Chivers and Cumella. It’s quite nice being back with the Worcester gang; something that hasn’t occurred since we were at college. Cumella spent a year in Canada after his degree in Leeds, I’ve been in Exeter and Chivers graduated from Bournmouth. Fainer is currently in Australia, so I wont see him till November and Harty is back in Worcester working (yes one of us has a proper job). However, the main purpose of this entry is to mention an individual who has had a remarkable affect on my life. A man named Chivers.

Many people don’t believe that exists, but trust me he does.

Remarkable things have happened to him, and fortunately I myself have been witness to them. Others I hear from him and others, and I can only imagine what he gets up to. I wont list all his triumphs here, because it would take too long, and I forget a few of them, however recent highlights include getting his hair caught in a lathe drill and scalping himself and nearly having his head caved in my his 10 month old nephew. However, Chivers is currently job hunting, so I thought I’d help. Having spent the day helping him on his portfolio, we embarked upon a road trip to an interview with me navigating.

Now it is worth noting that Chivers hasn’t got a good track record with interviews. For one interview he turned up a week early to the surprise of his potential employers who were not prepared at all. For another he simply misheard a question, believing it to be “What sound does a car make?” rather than “What makes the sound in a car?” He of course answered, “Brum Brum?”. He didn’t get the job.

After 20 minutes I was surprised to see Chivers had finished his interview, so we nipped off to visit the grand-parents. Now an odd coincidence is that my Nan lives just round the corner from Chiver’s, right in the north of Birmingham. So we managed to visit both of them. We then had lunch at the Pie Factory, which was fantastic as usual.

Today, an important event occurred. I met the new Chivers, the prodigal son aka the child of destiny. Well his nephew and god son to be precise. I have never met such an expressive baby, transfixed by Cumella and my scarf, it was an absolute joy to hang out with him, and was truly one of the highlights of the entire summer.

Had a night out with Team Red which was great, and went round to Zozo’s last week and watched the Summer School dvd with Mani and Bobbi. I still don’t know yet whether I will don the red activities shirt again. Maybe if I have a good team again.

Back to my own family now, and as usual my brother isn’t home. However, he’s not round his girlfriends but at university. Yes my little brother has started university. A few days before he moved in properly I got up at 5 in the morning and drove him down to Plymouth. He was asleep in the car leaving me with Mr Moyles for a few hours. Because the campus is in the city the police closed some of the roads temporarily so new students could park. This left us a window of two hours to unpack. Now me and my brother are very different, we get along but we are very different. I try and be optimistic, and he’s a miserable bastard. He’s not that bad really, he just moans a lot. However the moving in went pretty smooth and he sounds like he’s having an ok time.

My sister is back in Edinburgh in her new house with her big room, I ought to ring her. My cousin has started high-school and is settling in fine, and I am here, prepping for the PhD. I spent this morning organising finances and trying to find tutoring jobs, I got sent a load of stuff for teaching which has awakened my nostalgia for my undergraduate studies, so hopefully that will last me 3 years. I still don’t know what I want to do for the PhD, to tell you the truth there have been times over the last few weeks, when I’ve thought about not doing it. It’s not the challenge of 3 years, because that will go by in a blink of an eye, but my subject matter. Performative Walking? What the hell does that mean?

That question will be my starting point.

Unbottling.

The dissertation is in. The MA is finished. Now I all I need to know is whether I will get the thumbs up or the thumbs down.

I'm currently living back up North now. At the moment, my brother is about to leave for his holiday, and it's all a bit frantic. Yesterday, Holly and I took him to Merry Hill, a shopping centre near Birmingham that we visited as children. As children we nicknamed it 'Merry Hell' due to the fact that each tier is akin to that of those in Dante's Inferno. Holly and I didn't need anything in particular, but we exercised our duties as older siblings to help our little brother. Before the journey itself began, both Holly and I had visited the dentist. Mine was just an annual checkup, but Holly had a filling which left one side of her face completely numb, so that when she spoke it looked like she was trying to be some sort of ventriloquist. Sat in the car I tried to extract myself from my hoody, and my sister sensing my difficulty decided to help pull the hoody off me; what resulted was that my arm bent in a way it was not supposed to, causing my entire shoulder to lock and trap a sizeable amount of nerves.

My brother has gone now. Complete silence. Ten days in Turkey. He'll be fine. If they get to the airport on time.

These last few weeks have been pretty surreal for me. Frantically writing, reading, re-writing and now nothing. The year has flown by quicker than I thought. I don't know what to do with myself. I'm currently sorting things for next year with the PhD. I still need to arrange an appointment with my supervisor. I'm teaching as well next year, which both excites and terrifies me. I'm not too fussed about being placed in front of a group of people and discussing things, its just that for a drama student, there are a lot of gaps in my knowledge. Some subjects I am a bit rusty on, but others I don't know anything about at all. Oh well, I'll cross those bridges when I get to them.

I still need to find a job for next year, I have this wonderfully romantic notion that I will be able to tutor and such, but if that falls through I'll need something, in order to eat. And I need to eat, these past few weeks have caused me to lose weight, which is something I can't afford to do.

My house though is sorted. I'm living with 4 PhD students of various fields and backgrounds who seem like a pleasant bunch. I am yet to sign a contract, but that is due to the fact that we've only just found a 5th housemate.

Next week, it'll be a year since grandad left. I'm not usually accustommed to talking about these things on a blog, and also our family bottles everything up, but I was asked once what my favorite memories of him were, and as soon as I said them, I instantaneously felt better, like a great weight was lifted. Some things can be bottled up, but not emotions. For a person who has spent nearly 10 years on and off the stage, I'm still pretty awful when it comes to this.

Grandad.

I remember, that he was the only person I've met who could do the 'double-take' in real life. When greeting me, he'd always emphatically shake my hand, smiling 'Hiya KJ!'. He could turn a room full of strangers into his best friends with a smile and a wink. Even till his lasting days, he had an energy that was felt by all he met. He had a cheeky face that could get him away with murder, a mouth that released a musical laughter that became infectious to all who heard it. He'd play the piano with my sister, like some figure in England's music hall tradition of the past. He had a collection of cuddly toys that would sing songs. He'd sign all our birthday cards with W/R (Wolverhampton Road, the school in which he was educated and was very proud of this fact). When he visited me in Wales with Nan, they'd always stop off and visit the red kite centre. He loved it because he was seeing birds that were never seen in the city, the air was better for him and made him younger. One of the last things we did together was go for a walk in the fields behind my house. I can't remember what we spoke about, but I remember having to point out rabbit burrows and such for him to walk around. Mum had to pick us up because he couldn't walk back. I've only just remembered this walk, I don't know why I hadn't before. The last place he visited was Aberystwyth, a place that was important to both of us.

There is another reason why Grandad has weighed on my conscience. A few weeks before the submission date of the dissertation, Exeter University's Drama Department lost one of it's staff. My teacher who I did not know well, having only known her not even a year, but I looked forward to working with her for the next 3 years at Exeter. It is because of her that I saw Bertolt Brecht in a new light, as well as painting and performance. The most important piece of information she imparted on me was that no reading is pointless, every book you read will have a use at some point.

Danke Birgit.

Holly and I are going to see Nan next week, to see how her garden is doing.

Le Corbusier's Gaze

To my left I have a photograph of Le Corbusier staring at me. Its quite ironic having him here, as the figures I write about have strived to combat the very architecture he designed.

I am sat at a long desk that spans the width of the room, under a low beam. It is over 30 degrees celcius outside and not a cloud in the sky. Yes I'm not in England. I am in a small village not far from Bezier in the south of France where for the last 7 days I've been holidaying, for want of a better word. To be honest, it has felt like a holiday. I've spent time with my family, eaten good food, drunk wine and actually read something that was nothing to do with drama.

Highlights include a trip to the medieval town of Carcassone, where apparently Robin Hood Prince of Thieves was filmed. However, that wasn't the reason we visited it. Its a truly wonderful little gem, full of narrow winding medieval paths and roads brimming with shops and restaurants. No sweeping Haussmann boulevards here, no Corbusian secularised buildings. You could get lost here and not feel worried. It was worth the trip to France alone, and made me want to see Kevin Costner attempt an english accent again.

However, a slave to academia I remain, getting up early to work on the dissertation, sporadically editing throughout the day before making necessary corrections the following morning. Its going ok. The third draft reads better than the second (sorry Ila), as I've had time to reflect, to take my head from within the clouds and acess the situation from afar. Both my parents have read my second draft and my sister, the first chapter. My brother was only interested in the pages with pictures alas, but an outside eye is an outside eye. It was quite surreal handing it over to my parents, as I've never let them read my essays since high school. My mum was interested in it and raised some interesting points. My father didn't wholly understand it, but gave me some useful tips on presentation and such (as he reads a lot of reports in his job). I am now basicaly in the polishing stages, making the essay read well, connecting all the points and remaining consistent with my grammar aswell as binding the bloody thing. I haven't been able to fit all I wanted into it, as it is only a dissertation, but hopefully it'll be enough.

Back from the Dead

I am sat in the only free space of my bedroom, surrounded by boxes comprising of all I have accumulated over a year. I've moved out. For a month. It was sad leaving as I really enjoyed living in that house with my housemates. Oh well. I'll only be moving round the corner.

Now I am sat with what looks to be the second draft of my dissertation, complete with pictures and references! Its still way off completetion yet, as some of my sentences are a bit too wordy and a couple of references need to be completed, but it is a dissertation nonetheless. I've been very lucky in comparison to that of some of my friends as this is all I've had to do since I finished with the Shakespeare. Some of my friends are true machines, working part time and writing a dissertation, which is something that I will need to get used to for the next 3 years. The only setback I had occurred a few nights ago, when my computer was hit with 3 viruses which knocked it into a coma. Fortunately I had backed everything up, but it was slightly annoying having to trek to the library or the department to work on it. However, last night, I restored it to its factory settings, and its back in the dissertation game.

What else have I done? Ah I went to France for 4 days which was nice. Although I spent alot of it on the diss (I always seem to panic when I leave Exeter). I popped into my old job for a day and got to work with my sister which was pretty cool. It was great seeing everyone again, and what made it special was that some of the kids from last year were there.

Today, I was supposed to be working on my introduction, but Mum, Loz and me got sidetracked by some documents that belonged to my Grandad. There dated in the 1650s and are connected to the English Civil War. Basically, it seems that we might be connected to Guy Fawkes in some way, which is pretty cool and might explain why I like V for Vendetta so much. Anyways, I scanned them into the computer and brought out the details to make them legible. The title is that of 'A Perfect Djurnal of Passages in Parliament' (written in ye olde english) which was the title of one of the earliest newspapers in Britain. This specimen however, is even rarer and looks to be notations made by a journalist for the newspaper. We still havn't deciphered all of it yet, but we are going to contact the British History Museum - who have a large collection of similar artifacts - for help.

Mum and I are fascinated by the history, my brother wants to know how much it's worth. Bless his capitalistic cotton socks.

Update: The signature of the document seems to be that of Thomas Winter who was...
"Sir Thomas Winter, 2nd Baronet of Huddington Court, was born in 1620, the only son of Robert Winter and Ann Faulks, who was of Flemish descent. His father Robert, was the youngest son of Robert Wintour the gunpowder plotter."

A Breather

Handed in the first chapter and a bit of my dissertation today. Exciting stuff. I already had 3000 words down, however after having a talk with my supervisor I realised that I'd gone of track straying and forgetting that I'm doing a dissertation on performance!

I've had a hell of a two weeks. My whistle-stop tour to Aberystwyth was a successful affair, however commuted from Tywyn to Aber each day got pretty tiring. I met some interesting people from all over the world skilled in performance, geography and anthropology and was fortunate enough to have encountered this research. It has given my dissertation a great boost. An unforeseen factor was going back to Aberystwyth. I don't know what it is about that place that pulls me unlike any other. I think its due to its comparative remoteness, up there in the middle of the Welsh coast. Walking through its streets and its hillsides reiterates memories of old. Its such a small place that they overlap. A walk to the best view in aber was one that I had done many a time, and before driving back to Tywyn one night I decided to do it.

Crossing the road at the point where Jon and I once drunkenly fell into a hedge, to the base of the bridge where one night it was really foggy and looked like a level in silent hill, past my old house, over the grass where we built our pirate snowman, round the corner into the woods where Pete, Emily and I stopped once and sat on a bench, to the forest where Craig and I walked into some Live action role players in battle, where Pete climbed a tree, where I took my family in my first year, through the trees and scrambling upwards into the daylight to behold the whole town from above; left: the university, national library, panning right through the town; train station, castle, pier, short-tempered sea, constitution hill; behind me where we had a bbq once and on the way back James' bag caught alight. Its still there.

I bumped into one of my old lecturers when I was there which was nice, and got to see Kevo (Twelfth Night, Cafe Cappella, Macbeth), the last of us who stuck around. He showed me his footage from the third year performances we did 2 years ago, which I had never seen. Which was great. It made me feel glad for not leaving Exeter this year. This year has gone too fast for my liking, I've been lucky enough to meet some truly wonderful people from all over the globe, and look forward to meeting more over the next three years.

I spent one night at home after the conference and then drove down here to Exeter for dress rehearsals for the Shakespeare project. I was pretty nervous. But it was good. It made me realise that acting is not really my thing anymore. I had a great time with the cast, and I thouroughly enjoyed working on that production, but its not for me anymore. We had a good turn out audience-wise considering it was the end of term, and hopefully I was psychotically-peverted enough for them. The final run, I really went for it, and relished every moment; something I hadn't done since Amadeus. Its such a bizzarre machine, acting. Its not about being believable, becoming someone else or thinking your someone else; its about telling stories. You are not given a part in a play, but a story to tell. It may not be a long story, or even a detailed one, but it is a story nonetheless.

After wrapping up the Shakespeare (or so I thought) I focussed all my attention on the dissertation. Unable to let go of the Bard fully, I took part in some Shakespeare workshops with Liz looking at all-male casts in Shakespeare's plays. It was nice, and over three days I got to play Rosalind, Macbeth, Duke Orsino and many others. I think I'm Shakespeared out at the moment.

Now, I am cracking on with Chapter 2 of my diss waiting for the cinema later.

At Base Camp

Currently sat in the dining room at home. There are flowers everywhere which hasn't helped my hayfever. I can hear my brother on the television aged 1 shouting wildly. In the corner, my sister's new hamster, which consequently explains the amount of 'duplo': my brother has been building mazes for her.

Barely made it to my train yesterday. Didn't realise how heavy my bags were and had 20 minutes to leg it from my house to the station. Literally got to the platform as the train pulled in. Read some journal articles on the train, but was pretty knackered.

I was expecting my brother to pick me up from the station, but instead was greeted by mum who told me that he had buggered off to Plymouth. Hopefully I'll see him again one day. Its nice being back here. It's been a while. Holly also came back yesterday from Norway, the first thing she said was that I looked brown. (She's currently my favourite sibling).

The pollen count is so high here though and I felt zombified this morning when I woke up. Spent the day, sorting fathers day things out and doing some last minute packing for the conference. Holly and I got bored so found a home movie of us when we were kids (For some reason I said 'cheeseburgers' a lot when I was a child).

At 7am tomorrow, I will be at the Porters Lodge in Aberystwyth awaiting a mini bus that will take me to Ynslas. Its going to be strange going back, as an outsider. Its also going to be a long day as I wont be finished til about 10 having been up since about 5. I've got a pretty whistle-stop tour ahead of me though as I drive off to Wales this evening.

Should be a laugh.