So I haven’t posted in a while. The main reason for this being the Lancaster Music Festival. The people I work for run the best music pub in Lancaster, as well as another music pub, they were also running a bar in Waterstone’s and a Church. So I worked loads, and when I wasn’t working I was out drinking some fine beers and listening to some awesome bands. Special mentions go to Kindread, an awesome reggae/ska band from Australia (not only are they a great band, they are lovely people – Check them out on Spotify) and to The Convulsions, a brilliant lancaster based band who play all sorts and are just very good.
So since then I have been working more (making some money) and recovering. I also had a rehearsal with Paper People. That went very well. I wont go into it too much, but there should be some pics up in the next week or so on www.paperpeopletheatre.com So check that out too.
But here is a bit more script bits from The Story of the Waiting Man, again feel free to comment and make suggestions. No one did last time, that’s fine. Although it does mean I like you all a little less.
This section is a musing (not amusing) about time passing and people changing…
The man waits, and he waits patiently. Through spring, summer, autumn and winter he waits. He has weathered celebrations and riots. He has waited patiently as people around him have come and gone, occasionally a passer-by has engaged him in conversation, sometimes these people have come back, but they always move on, whilst he remains, a calm centre, patiently waiting.
If time is relative, then surely so is change.
If you see someone everyday, you don’t notice how they change. If you see them every now and then, you can see how much weight they have gained or lost. If they have grown.
If you never see them, they never change, or constantly do.
He used to be able to smoke in here.
And here is a bit from the end of the script. It’s a bit tongue in cheek. Difficult to convey in typing, but rest assured it’s not as pretentious as it sounds…
This man could be me, but he probably isn’t. He could be anyone. He could be a metaphor for the way we wait for things to change, for ourselves to change, or for something to happen that makes everything else make sense. He could be. But he is not. He is a man who waits, and contemplates, and does things that amount to very little.
His clothes are old. The man is mouldy. Both are covered in dust. He’s been waiting. He’s been waiting for so long that he’s forgotten what he’s been waiting for. A phone call? A bus? A train? Is it you that he’s been waiting for?
No, that doesn’t seem right. Because you’re here now, so if he’s been waiting for you then he wouldn’t be waiting anymore. He’d be doing something else. He hasn’t been waiting for you.
But he has been waiting.
And will remain.
So read, enjoy, comment if you like. I’ll be back next week.