Thursday, March 31, 2011

Rewind

I will probably blog in more detail about last night's short play shindig at some point. In short, though, it was proper Macbeth-on-rollerblades stuff, the kind of thing that is probably deemed "cutting edge", possibly "arty", and in either event so obscure as to be incomprehensible to normal human beings such as myself. In amongst all of this, "Rewind" stood out as rather mundane, perhaps a little quaint, and somewhat predictable. This may well have come as a bit of a relief to some of the audience members, but probably not. They were all trendy-looking types, supporting their avant-garde friends. Then there were the 14 empty seats, booked out, apparently, by one of the actors for chums who never showed up, to the detriment of the 10 or so people turned away at the door on account of there not being room. And then there was the noise. This was, after all, a pub theatre, by which I mean it was a room up some stairs in a pub that looked as though it should really be booked out for a leaving do and not theatre, darling. But its location meant that anything that wasn't shouted was pretty much drowned out by the racket from downstairs, which is a drawback if your play is basically an elderly lady musing in an armchair. Quietly. So the jokes, such as they were, were lost in the commotion, and the whole thing was ultimately something of a disappointment.

Anyway, for my friend Greg, who would have liked to have come along, and anyone else who's not seen it, here's the script. After all, it's not likely to get another outing any time soon:

A nursing home in Bradford, UK. Kathleen led slowly by the arm to an armchair by a member of staff She is quite elderly and frail and unsteady on her feet. Throughout the monologue she is being literally “looked after” by a member of staff from the care home. Kathleen is aware of this, but is accepting of it.

KATHLEEN: [Looks at her watch.] Nearly eleven.

[The member of staff ensures she is sitting comfortably, adjusting the cushion at the back of her head and pulling the little table nearby so she can reach easily.]

KATHLEEN: I don’t know what time she’ll come, our Caroline, but I’m sure she will come. She’s not said she’ll come but she wouldn’t miss my birthday. [Pause]
[Smiles at the CARE ASSISTANT, who exits.] It’s not a bad place. She looked at others, our Caroline, but for we liked this one. She tells me how nice it is, how well I look, and how good the food is, and I’m sure she’s right. There are small things that bother me, of course, but then there were small things that bothered me at home. I don’t see enough of Caroline, and the children…they’re very busy of course. They’ve always had so many hobbies, the children. Kate plays the trumpet… or was it cricket? One of those…. [trying to remember, then, frustrated:] Oh, well, anyway, they’re very busy, and I’m sure that’s why they don’t come very often.
Our Caroline comes every couple of weeks, though. [Thoughtful] Sometimes not quite so often. [Frowns, thinking] I think she comes less these days than she used to, but maybe not. I think time just… Well, everything’s the same, you see, so it’s hard to remember.... And I think she feels she’s intruding. She thinks I have a social life here, and, you know, I don’t want to tell her I haven’t because that would worry her, to think I’m unhappy. [Pause. Thoughtful:] and I’m not unhappy. [Smiling] Last week a young gentleman came and played the piano, and we all joined in. And we had a tea party, once... [Remembering] We have a games night every Wednesday… no, Tuesday… No… Well, I don’t think it happens any more. Where was I? Yes. Caroline. Well, she comes every week… no, two weeks. Sometimes less. But then there’s the drive from Shipley – it’s at least twenty minutes each way… Well, I understand, and she knows I understand. We’ve always been close like that, me and Caroline.

[The CARE ASSISTANT re-enters with a cup of tea, which she holds to Kathleen’s lips until she’s satisfied she’s had some, then wipes her mouth with a tissue and puts the tea on the table and exits]

I’ve been here for…for a little while now, but it feels like ever such a long time. [Thoughtful] I think our Caroline was reluctant putting me here, but I was a nuisance, you see. Not that our Caroline ever said I was, of course, but I knew I was. I was starting to worry her. Ooh, it was only little things. You know, forgetting to turn things off, silly mistakes, things that if you do them when you’re young people say how daft you are, but as you get older they start to worry about you. I’ve always found our Caroline’s house ever so confusing. She has these two doors on the landing that look exactly the same, and one night Steve came out and found me sitting in the linen cupboard. Told Caroline I seemed “confused and distressed”! Well, I’d say that was a bit of an exaggeration. I never have been able to remember which door is which and of course I realised when I came up against a load of sheets and towels it wasn’t the toilet, and I was just getting my bearings when Steve walked in and gave me ever such a fright, it’s no wonder I reacted the way I did. You don’t expect people to be creeping around their own houses at all hours, do you? Well, he was fine. Big fuss about nothing, if you ask me. I was ever so sorry about the bump on his head, of course, but I hadn’t broken the skin or anything and Caroline told me he’d soon see the funny side.

[The CARE ASSISTANT returns with a hairbrush and starts to slowly brush KATHLEEN’s hair]

You see, they do look after me. Our Caroline comes every day and she says I’m looking well and notices I’ve had my hair cut, and she says things like “isn’t that a nice dress, Mother? Isn’t that a lovely dress?” She talks to me a little like the nurses do, I’ve noticed, but then we’ve not got so much to talk about these days. She brought a friend with her the other day and they brought a box of chocolates then talked amongst themselves. Caroline said “Mother doesn’t talk much these days”. And is it any wonder? They talked about what a nice place it was, then they talked about a film, and I couldn’t very well join in as I’d not seen it. “You could take me to the cinema one day”, I tried, once, and they smiled, sort of sadly, and Caroline patted me on my shoulder and said “don’t eat too many chocolates, Mum, you’ll spoil your dinner.” [The CARE ASSISTANT exits.]

There were other things too, of course. The doctor explained them to me. I could hear them talking at night, what with them paper-thin walls, talking about me after I’d gone to bed. “She’s not right”, he’d say. “She’s not safe”. Not safe, I ask you! This from the man who thinks it’s safe to drive after four pints and once ploughed his car into the central reservation on the M62! And then he’d recount some daft thing I’d done, full of embellishments, usually, how I’d forgotten where I was, or where they lived. Well, really! All I’d done was telephone the wrong number and ended up speaking to this young girl who’d bought their old house in Otley, and of course I realised soon as she’d picked up the phone but then we had ever such a lovely chat. Well, it turned out she knew our Caroline and phoned later to check I was alright, bless her, because I’d been ringing about something quite important, I think, that must be what it was… though I can’t remember now what exactly… Well, anyway, Steven said this was a sure sign, and he’d read about it in the Daily Mail. People who are starting to get dementia who go back in time and forget where they are. Well, I’d not forgotten at all! They’d only been in Shipley five years, which is hardly a lifetime, and I’ve a good memory for numbers. And anyway, I used to see a good deal more of them in those days before they moved, so I must have just been…what do you call it… auto-pirate. You know, when you do things without really thinking, because they come naturally. I think I must spend a lot of time being an auto-pirate.

[CARE ASSISTANT returns with a biscuit]

CARE ASSISTANT: Would we like a biscuit?
KATHLEEN: No, Love, thanks, Love.
CARE ASSISTANT: Are you sure? You like biscuits don’t you? They’re lovely biscuits.
KATHLEEN: No. I’m alright, Love.
[The CARE ASSISTANT looks concerned and holds a biscuit in front of KATHLEEN’s nose as if to tempt her.]
KATHLEEN: No, I’d better not, Love, I expect my daughter will bring me some chocolates. [The CARE ASSISTANT exits. To audience:] Ooh, it does irritate me, that does, them talking to us as though we’re in nursery school, all sing-songy, and when they come up to you then lean in close to your face and it’s always,
CARE ASSISTANT: [returning] do we want some more tea?
KATHLEEN: and
CARE ASSISTANT: would we like a biscuit?
KATHLEEN: [sighs] I don’t know why they all use this “we” all the time, but maybe someone’s said that’s what you’re meant to do, because they all do it. But it does get to me, that. I don’t want to say so because I wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings. They mean well. They’re only young, these girls, you know, and they do their best.
[The CARE ASSISTANT exits.]
Now where was I? I can’t remember. That’s the trouble, you see, they come up to you just when you’re… and then… [sighs] Well, what with all this fuss around you… Now. Had I got to the apple cores? No? Oh, well, that was a right performance. You’d think I’d set fire to the house the uproar that created. Well, we were having this family dinner and the kids were coming over… I probably shouldn’t call them kids now, should I? Emma… [rattily] No, no, Kate!… and….and her brother… They’re not really kids any more. Well, they were all coming over – it was some big occasion – and I’d said I’d help out and, well, Steven said he didn’t think that was such a good idea, what with me forgetting things, but our Caroline cut him off, she said, if Mum wants to help that would be lovely, so I made an apple pie. Our Caroline’s never been much of a cook. I expect she’s too busy really for all of that. I know people don’t cook these days like they used to. But she used to love apple pie as a child. So I made this apple pie and made it all nice on top with the sugar and the little pastry apples. And I got it out of the oven and everything without them reminding me, because Steven was worried I’d forget all about it and burn it. Anyway, we had this meal and afterwards I cut open the pie and… [getting upset at the memory] well, it should really be ever so funny, but I found I’d gone and thrown the apple away and put the cores into the pie… Well, I was ever so upset, and our Caroline laughed and said what a funny thing to have done, and we’d all laugh about it later, but then Dan… Ben… he got all miserable, saying he’d saved an apple-pie space and now there wasn’t any, and so I said I’d make it up and buy him ice-cream and then… and I’ll never forget this… Steven got ever so angry. He got up and he shouted “Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?” Well, I thought, there was no need for that! And I told him so! I did! And Steven turned to our Caroline and said “she’s changed! Look at her, Caz” (ooh, I’ve never liked the way he calls her that. Caroline’s such a pretty name, and her father chose it for her) “Look at her, Caz,” he said “she’s out of control. She doesn’t know what she’s doing”. And there was this almighty row, and I told him he should respect his elders, told him I’d like to see him do a bit of cooking once in a while, and he said they were on the breadline looking after me, that I was ruining their relationship, and the kids got upset, then Steven said that was my fault too, that I’d upset them…. Oh, it was awful. [Sips her tea and recovers. The CARE ASSISTANT hurries in and holds KATHLEEN’s hand, as if to calm her down.] Well. I ended up in hospital. I can’t remember why, now. [Frowns, thinking.] I think something happened…. [Obediently, to the CARE ASSISTANT] That’s why I’m here, you see. I can’t manage.

[The CARE ASSISTANT checks the teacup, sees it is empty, and takes it away.]

She doesn’t talk about him much these days, mind, and he’s not been since the day I moved in. She thinks I’ve not noticed, but I have. I know Caroline. And I’m not going to ask where he is because I know he’s not around. I suppose if I did ask her she’d make something up, say he was ever so busy at work, but what do people want with a British builder these days when all them Poles and Czechoslavs will do it at a fraction of the price? No. [Confidently] He’s definitely buggered off.
[Looks at her watch]. Nearly ten past. [Fretting.] I hope she’s not broken down. It’s a long way, from Otley. She usually does come around eleven. I think it’s because it gives her an excuse to leave, because I need to get ready for my dinner. I think otherwise she’d feel guilty, us running out of things to say. [Pause.] I expect she’ll be here in a minute.

[The CARE ASSISTANT returns with another cup of tea.]

I never did ask what happened to her face, but these days she’s looking better. I didn’t like to ask, but she’d volunteer the information. “I went and opened the kitchen cupboard into my face,” she said once, and went on in elaborate detail about how the cupboard doors are on springs, and if you push them too hard they jump back at you. “Can you believe it?” She asked, and I couldn’t. A few months ago, after her standard kiss on the cheek and “you’re looking well”, I replied by saying she was, too, better than when I’d seen her before, and she blushed, saying the weather was good and they’d been over to Scarborough and she’d caught the sun. Well, I don’t know. I don’t get outside much these days. But Nancy, who lives here with me, says she reckons our Caroline’s got a new man. I do hope she has. [Frowning, thoughtful] but if she has I hope it isn’t because she’s [thinking] you know [brightly, remembering] on the rewind. You know, to get over Steven, going out with some new chap on the rewind. [Sighing] Of course, I’ll never meet him. Some silly woman in her reading group told her people with dementia can’t cope with change, and now we’ve nothing to talk about, and every time she comes it’s kiss, you’re looking well, I bought you some chocolates, isn’t it nice here? Do you still play cards? Don’t eat too many, you’ll spoil your dinner, goodness is that the time? And she signs the visitor’s book apparently so the staff can tell me later that she’s been, which they do.

[The CARE ASSISTANT comes up to KATHLEEN with the book and kneels in front of her, pointing]

CARE ASSISTANT: We’ve had a visitor, today, haven’t we, Kathy? Wasn’t that nice?
[The CARE ASSISTANT pats her on the shoulder, closes the book and leaves her side. PAUSE.]

KATHLEEN: And I suppose it is nice. Everything is nice. And one day it will all just… stop, and there won’t be anything to be nice, or to complain about… I don’t expect I’ll notice. And I expect it will be a blessing for our Caroline, too, in the end. [Pause. Looks at her watch]. I think it’s too late for her to come now. We’re having our dinner at twelve. Marconi Cheese. [to the CARE ASSISTANT, standing nearby.] Do I like Marconi Cheese?

Blackout

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Top 25

As you may know, I'm quite partial to lists, and today I had a look at the "25 most played" tracks on my ipod. I'm not sure what this assortment says about me, but in case you have any ideas:

- ABBA - SOS
- Half Man Half Biscuit - Joy Division Oven Gloves
- The Pogues - Sally MacLennane
- The Pogues - The Broad Majestic Shannon
- Emmylou Harris - Born to Run
- Eels - I Like Birds
- Oasis - Don't Look Back in Anger
- Dixie Chicks - If I Fall You're Going Down With Me
- Shooglenifty - The Pipe Tunes
- Eels - Climbing To The Moon
- D:Ream - Things Can Only Get Better
- The Bangles - I'll Set You Free
- Take That - Shine
- Blur - There's No Other Way
- Half Man Half Biscuit - Little In The Way Of Sunshine
- The Chieftains - Cotton-Eyed Joe
- Oysterband - The Shouting End of Life
- Eels - Paradise Blues
- The Beatles - In My Life
- Tony Christie - Amarillo
- The Smiths - I Won't Share You
- The Beautiful South - Don't Marry Her
- Huey Lewis and The News - The Power of Love
- The Cranberries - Dreams
- The Smiths - Stretch Out And Wait

I don't know how ABBA made it to the top, how there are no Morrissey tracks and only one Bangles track, and how Take That got in there at all, but anyway, there it is. Have a good week :-)

Monday, March 07, 2011

The Owl Who Was Afraid of the Dark

Re-reading children’s books as an adult is often something of a revelation. Often, the revelation is simply that the whole adult thing is actually a bit of a cover, which can be blown by a few well-chosen quotes from a mournful toy grey donkey, and you have to admit to yourself that being paid to sit at a desk all day is all very well, but in all honesty you’d rather be out playing Pooh Sticks. At other times you are taken aback by the sheer banality of the content, and begin to understand why your dad suddenly found something pressing he had to go and do – usually in the shed – when you asked if you could read “Where’s Spot?” together for the fiftieth time. (I’m not sure why they had such a pressing need to know where Spot was in the first place.) And sometimes the revelation is that actually there’s something rather clever – or, more often than not, rather rude – that you never noticed as a child and that was probably put in there to make the lives of the adults who read the books to the children marginally less tedious.

There are quite a few books from my childhood that have the first effect on me, and whose glories far outweigh those in the likes of Harry Potter, which I never really got into, not least because J. K. Rowling’s propensity for adverbs got more than a little irritating after a while. (Have you not noticed that in those books nobody ever just says anything? Everything has to be said casually, or urgently, or sharply, or coldly...) To name but a few, if you’ve never discovered Allan Ahlberg’s “Please Mrs Butler” or anything by Shirley Hughes (gorgeous drawings that look like places where real children live, as opposed to those perfect 1930s detached houses that came complete with a garage and a dog called Pat) I urge you to go and borrow them from your local library while you still can. Then of course there was the real Winnie the Pooh, which was far, far funnier than Disney’s poor yet popular imitation, especially when read on a cassette by Alan Bennett, and includes lines like “You can’t help respecting anybody who can spell Tuesday, even if he doesn’t spell it right.”

But there’s one book I’ve always loved more than any other, and judging by the outpourings on Facebook lots of other people agree with me – “The Owl Who Was Afraid of the Dark”. If you have no idea what I’m talking about I recommend you to go away and read it or, better still, get Maureen Lipman to read it for you (not in person – she’s probably quite expensive – but you can get it on CD in Waterstones for a fiver). Basically, it tells the story of Plop the baby barn owl (and where can you go wrong with a name like Plop?) who is (there’s a clue in the title, folks) afraid of the dark. So his mother sends him off on his own – in the daytime when they’re asleep – to find out all about the dark, in frankly a shocking display of owlet neglect that would have avian social services flocking to the nest these days. This premise thus established it’s easier to imagine a tiresomely predictable chain of events, at the end of which, lo and behold, Plop decides he does like the dark after all. And there is a bit of that at times. Fortunately for Plop, it so happens that everybody he meets seems to have an almost fetishistic love of the dark and absolutely no qualms about meeting a talking owl. Not one of them says “Yeah, I see what you mean, dark’s quite scary cos you might get mugged and that”. Instead they babble on about fireworks and stargazing and Father Christmas. Similarly Plop fortuitously stumbles upon lots of nice, wholesome people, and not the sort of people you might routinely expect to be hanging around in the dark. Jill Tomlinson might well add a touch of realism to the whole story by having Plop meet teenagers who, far from getting their kicks playing hide and seek in the woods and singing round a campfire are sitting on the wall of the local garage slowly drinking themselves into oblivion with a bottle of White Lightning. But she doesn’t, and, pleasingly, she mitigates the whole “this book is going to teach you something” with some lines so sweetly funny I (much to F’s annoyance, as he was trapped in the car with the CD playing) let out a delighted “awww!” every time I heard them. They include “I don’t think owls have those. Not barn owls, anyway,” and (Plop’s only a baby, you see, and he can’t really fly yet) “he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and fell of his branch”. It occurred to me that this is a book I’ve never seen dramatised on TV, yet I have far more visual images from it than from many that have.

Anyway, I’ve rambled long enough and I’ve proven, as per the start of this post, that the whole adult thing is just an elaborate yet flimsy cover, and one day people will find me out and realise I’ve just been masquerading as an adult all this time, it’s just that these days I have a husband and gym membership and I drink coffee and real ale and other such things that denote grown-up status. In case you were wondering, I am actually going to give the CD to my 5-year-old niece, in the hope she’ll enjoy it as much as me. But it’s going on my ipod first...

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