Day Sixty-six

Feest Isolation Days – 19 May

The theatre and theatrical folk have always been an important part of my life.  Several years ago before the cuts to funding, there were some great reasonably priced workshops in Bristol at the Tobacco Factory that were open to all of those people who wanted to keep their theatrical senses sharp and limbered up for whatever reason.  Often, I was the oldest person at these groups by a long way but that didn’t stop me from learning and enjoying the experience.  As I still dabble with writing plays from time to time, I continue to belong to a group of actors. Being with these folks always feels familiar!  Coronavirus remains a worry to people who have often lived their creative lives fairly close to the edge as they live from job to job and fill in with other short-term work that is also no longer available. The theatre and theatricals will need help to keep afloat while physical distancing remains in place. 

At the workshop where I was the oldest member, at the start of the weekend session, we began by sharing a story about  a theatrical experience that had touched us in some way  The tale was to be either one that occurred when we were an audience member or from our own performance experience.   

When I lived in New York City in the 1970’s, I went to drama school and although I had very little money, I wanted to see everything I could that was on Broadway.  We poor young drama folks used to wait until the interval and then mix with the crowd and eventually make our way inside to find that there was always a seat we could slip into.  Going with a friend made our illicit activity easier.  I have seen rather a lot of second acts!

There was one performance however that I was determined to see from beginning to end.  Saving up the money for the ticket was worth it.  I was sitting in the middle of the front row watching Richard Burton in Equus.  When he came on stage, I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and watched as his hand trembled.  The rest of the audience could hear the tremor in his voice and twitched uncomfortably in their seats.  After about five minutes into the performance, you could see him visibly pull himself up and we watched as he delivered one of the most riveting performances I have ever seen.  He delivered each line to me.  And that is what everyone in that theatre thought as well. Each line was spoken directly to them.  The sort of performance that only a great of the theatre could manage. 

When he finished and as the curtain came down, I noticed his hand trembling again.  He had woven his magic and it was time for another drink.  He said he wasn’t drinking when he was working – that meant only drinking a bottle of vodka a day.  When he was drinking, he’d have three. The hugely talented actor was born Richard Walter Jenkins Jr. in Pontrhydyfen, Glamorgan, Wales, the twelfth of thirteen children.  His father was a coal miner and his mother a barmaid.  Burton had cirrhosis of the liver when he died at the age of fifty-eight.  The miners’ lives were tough but for Richard, so was acting not to mention life itself.

When I finished my tale of this fine actor at the theatre workshop, one of the young would be thespians piped up and asked,

“Who’s Richard Burton?” 

Who Indeed!

A clip from Equus

!!ERRATUM!!

The editor has misinformed us about his Twenty first birthday present scooter!  A friend who reads these pages, described by his wife as a “petrol head” says in fact the gift was a Lambretta and not a Vespa…..

This is a Vespa

This is a Lambretta…

This is the editor’s scooter…

So now you know.  Thanks eagle eyes!

Love,

Kathy x