Like most self employed artists, who are free to enjoy the delights of the outdoors as we are not constrained by traditional office hours, I have spent the whole day inside, getting on with administrational tasks. I have been lost within a big and exciting sea of 'stuff' for the last few months and have been neglecting writing this, which makes me sad. NO MORE, I say. I will return to my blog, feeling excited about what is happening and wanting to share it. Just as soon as I've finished this mint Feast. I don't know if you've ever tried to type on a laptop whilst trying to balance a green dribbling mess of a snack on the top of a cup, but I wouldn't recommend it.
When I last posted, I was submerged in a world of puppetry, and, four months, three heavy colds and 80 shows later, I am now back in London and working on my new show. I began in January, with only the idea that I wanted to find out more about the sea, and the idea of an old man's face in my head. He was very clearly there, very well defined, and I wanted to write about him. These two tiny bits of ideas are now 'The Watery Journey of Nereus Pike.' It's a true story that I made up. There are plastic sea creatures, there is live music. there is a nautical jumper. You know you have truly arrived in a family when your mother-in-law buys you a selection of plastic lobsters to play with in the bath. These have OBVIOUSLY ended up on stage.
The show is still in its 'work in progress' phase which is an odd stage. It basically means you have to say 'look guys, this isn't finished. Please give me feedback once you've seen it. But only GOOD feedback or I might cry.' It is tempting to apologise for the work, introduce it through clenched teeth, but I don't feel sorry for it. I love what is there so far and although I'm well aware that it needs a lot more work, the 'nest' of it exists very strongly for me. Now I just have to figure out what to put in the nest. Lobsters, obviously, and more stuff too.
In non show-making news, the camping season has well and truly begun and, true to form, Tom and I have braved Joni already this year, heading to a field in Oxfordshire owned by the rudest man in the world. Yes sir, you may have a Land Rover, but you are mean. If you don't want people camping in your field, DON'T OPEN A CAMPSITE YOU BIG MEANIE. We got our own back, however, by leaving some pretty horrific tyre tracks when we got stuck in the mud and had to be pulled out by a tractor. Good times.
We were also unlucky with the weather (a recurring theme in the life of The Franklands) and spent two days huddling like penguins desperate for survival in the awning, while sleet bashed against the flimsy windows and made us wonder why on earth we didn't check the weather forecast before we left. It turns out that sleet is just snow without the romance. If Aled Jones had sung about the Sleetman, he probably wouldn't be presenting Songs of Praise now.
It was, as always, perfect, and ignited the desire for many more camping trips this year. Camping is going to start being, well, a bit different soon, and possibly a little noisier, as we are expecting a baby in August. All extremely exciting and ridiculous to think that there is something the length of a banana hanging out in my stomach. It seems to be enjoying itself, and being generally relaxed, spending half of the 12 week scan asleep, while I leapt around the hospital like an idiot, trying to get it to move into the right position for measurements. I've never jumped up and down in a waiting room before whilst drinking a can of Coke, but I'm hoping it's not something I will have to do again. It confused everyone and made me look like a lunatic. I imagine that will be something I have to get used to when the little scamp arrives.
Needless to say, babyseat for campervan is the first thing we are researching. We do have quite sizeable drawers in Joni but apparently it's 'frowned upon' to put babies in furniture.
