Happy Days are Here Again…

Things on this blog have become a bit heavy of late. Whilst I think it is a good thing to be open about myself, I don’t want my beloved readers to think it is all doom and gloom on Planet David. So, here is some good news about me.

A few months ago, I was asked to write the script for a musical by two friends in Canada. It is a 1920’s blues musical based on the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. I am very excited about this project, which is great as I have been a tad uninspired with the rejection letters from agents I have sent my book to. However, we move on and keep trying. It is nice to feel I have my writing groove back.

This week I finished the first drafts of both the sixty minute version and the full length versions. It is called ‘The Orphic Blues’ as a working title. I did two versions because at first I could not tell the story in the sixty minute time limit. With music taking up half the show, retelling a Greek myth in thirty minutes was a challenge. So, my bright idea was that I would write it to be as long as needed to tell the story and then edit it down to fit sixty minutes. Then I figured, what’s the harm of having two versions? One can be for Fringe Theatre Festivals where the time for a show is limited and the other can be if it gets put on at a theatre outside of the Fringe where time is not such an issue.

I am super excited to see what my friend comes up with for the songs. Then it will be time for the second draft for tidying and polishing and then it is another play written. Then I just need to finish the one man show I am writing and I am up-to-date with my current projects and will start on the next thing; whatever that might be. Another total bonus was that Gauri and I got to practise our American accents when doing the read throughs. There is something so soothing about talking in a 1920’s American(ish) dialect. I found myself saying ‘Dang it’ and talking to Gauri in an accent quite often. ‘Aw girl. Don’t be sad now. Just cos we missed The Apprentice, we can always catch it on the iplayer. Now relax and stop fretting.’

The second piece of good news, and the reason for the rather dapper picture of yours truly at the top of this post, is that I went to my first ever Stag Do yesterday. We dressed in honour of the Stag, whose penchant for tweed jackets with leather elbow pads has been going strong since his early twenties. So, naturally, tweed jackets and bowler hats it was.

We went to the Surrey Hills Brewery tour in Dorking. Well worth it if you ever fancy the trip. The owner of the brewery did the tour and honest to God, that man could be a stand-up comedian. His delivery was perfect; he had a nice line in deadpan expressions and was so quick off the cuff with retorts that who would put hecklers down with ease. He was also nice enough to keep our glasses topped up with beer made on the premises. Much like drinking milk straight from a cow.

Once again, I have got ahead of myself. I arrived before the others as they went go-karting in the morning. Sadly, my life as an aspiring author meant I could not afford the go-karting. Whilst waiting around in my outfit, getting odd looks from all and sundry, I was stopped and asked by a lady ‘Do you work here?’ I replied ‘No.’ Now, I could have explained that I was there for a Stag Do, but the look on her face as I told I didn’t work there was too priceless. I have rarely seen a look of such confusion and disbelief. What other reason is this man dressed like this if he does not work here? her face implied. I smiled and sauntered away happy that I had given someone something to ponder.

I do confess I looked like a vagabond, albeit a very well dressed one. I waited a while and thought ‘How long could I sit here dressed like this before anyone asks what I am doing?’ I thought of it in terms of a social experiment, but then thought sitting around all day would get dull after a bit, so I went back to not much thinking about anything and looked at the fine Surrey Hills scenery.

Everyone else arrived and we did the tour, drank different types of beer and got pleasantly sozzled. The high point for me was hearing a man say that we were all dressed oddly. Oh, did I forget to mention the aforementioned man was wearing a leather kilt? That’s right. A leather kilt. It takes some brass balls (which I imagine were unharnessed beneath the kilt) for him to be wearing a leather kilt and say that we were dressed oddly.

The best bit was his explanation. He informed us that it was in fact a ‘utility’ kilt, which I can only assume is akin to Batman’s belt full of gadgetry. Although, quite what gadgets he needed to face a day of drinking beer is beyond me. After the tour, we jumped in the rental car and headed to a pub. It was as I got in that I saw what I saw in the picture below. Take a moment to fully appreciate this image. It is a doozy no?

I am still struggling to figure out what it is they are trying to say with this. That a child is in a safety seat is clear enough and perfectly respectable, but what in the name of Hades (sorry Greek myths are still swirling around my brain) is the anchor implying? That if your child is pulled out the back of your car, don’t worry, your child’s velocity will be slowed as it hits the road by this bloody great anchor he/she is attached to. I don’t think this image is as reassuring as the makers wanted it to be. I am honestly asking if anyone knows what this sign is meant to be saying. If you do know, please tell me.

My friend Marton just suggested that it is because we are in England and due the recent flooding, car rental firms have taken to putting anchors on safety seats. I pointed out that the child would be weighed down by the anchor in a flood. He said the anchor was not there for the child. It was there to protect the rental car. It bothers me that in this world, it might actually be true.

We had a few drinks in the pub before I had to go. The manageress made one of the best Cosmopolitan’s I have ever had. I know, how butch and manly we were drinking cosmos? I then wobbled down the streets of Ashtead grinning at people who were looking at a strange man in a strange outfit and got my train home.

The only downside was that I lost my grey moustache. I think I carried it off quite well. I could grow one and dye it white I suppose. Ah, something to do on another day.

Take care buddies,

David.