Bartelt does not rouse himself for the disappointing breakfast on our second morning. As tour manager I can't help feeling a bit guilty. He breakfasts later as we have a skype meeting with Lucy, our radio producer, about prospective radio things.
I used to be a light entertainment agent. It's a long story, but when I left I had the salutary experience of discovering who my friends were. They were 1. some of my colleagues 2. some of my clients 3. TWO of my many of contacts: Nigel and Lucy.
Lucy has been so supportive of this project all the way down the line and it was she who rescued me when I was convinced, after a very bad preview for me, that I should abandon the project. Bartelt helped too, but off the back of my enormous wobbly he had told me that he would not be having another heart valve replacement (another long story) and I had said, standing on Hungerford Bridge, Thames below us, South Bank Centre to our right, so, you've decided to die of heart failure? And he'd said, rather tearfully, yes. We met Lucy just after this, had a bottle of wine, and she'd kind of got us both back on track. In fact, we should have a disclaimer saying that if you hate this show, get in contact with her and not us.
Now I come to think of it, the other friend, Nigel, is the one who put me in contact with his literary agent. I'm supposed to be writing the book of the show... I'll start, when I finish this, I promise, Nige.
So we have a long skype conversation with Lucy and then we sit for hours working: admin, photos, blogging. And then we go round the charity shops of Newcastle!!! They are great. I try some clothes on but nothing really works. However, Bartelt finds a jumper which, it turns out, he will barely take off for the rest of the tour. He is such a creature of habit. And he is SO happy with the jumper, well, it's rather pathetic. He has reasons for his delight: it's just the right weight/colour etcetera, but he's just in love with it and that is that.
My friend Chris's sister and her bloke come to the show. I've not seen her for years and it's great to - very briefly - catch up. And Emma, who has already seen the show once, brings her parents to the show that night. Afterwards her father, a chap in his eighties, tells me it is the most moving piece of theatre he has ever seen. There is also a rather lovely speech about the opening night of Who's Afraid... which is happening all around us, and Erica mentions us as well. Really, this is such a delightful place to work. We bang on at quite a few people about our next show, working title Our Father, and then we wander back through town.
We have an early – for Bartelt – train in the morning. We make it, although he has to remind me again not to walk so fast. When will I learn? We both love trains and and enjoy ourselves working on them, so we work and plan all the way back to London: we are very excited about working on our next show. Tonight in London it will be the MartyBartyParty at a pub somewhere in central London. This will be a very intimate affair to celebrate Martin introduce him to a few folk and to see some mates before we're off again on the road, I mean train.
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