Midweek Treat...

Nothing beats a glass of wine and a chat with a good friend to beat the midweek slump...

(Photo taken by me.)

At Play...

And so on Sunday, we performed our play. As mentioned in an earlier post, it was an adaptation of a Raymond Carver story ‘What We Talk About When We Talk About Love’. We were performing it as part of the One Act Festival organized by the Galway Youth Theatre. The story centres on 2 couples – Herb and Terri, and Nick and Laura – who are sitting around drinking gin and talking about love. Donnacha was playing Herb, the main character of the piece and he immediately inhabited the character of the slightly sozzled doctor, who tells one story after another irritating his poor wife, played brilliantly by Marie, along the way. Nick and Laura are the slightly more idealistic couple, still very much in love, not quite as battered down as their counterparts. John played Nick, with an amazing Southern accent, and great comic timing, while I ambled along as Laura as best I could!

We’d put an awful amount of work into the play – hours of rehearsal, over countless evenings. We had one minor heart attack a week before the play was due to performed when we realized we actually maybe didn’t know the lines as well as we should, so we set about rectifying this quickly. We worked out our movements, our reactions, John and I worked on a little dance routine (including a practice session in the Róisín Dubh one Saturday night) and we felt by the end we’d put together a good play, and we were confident that the story was strong enough to keep the interest of the audience.

The weekend came along and we crammed in the last few practice sessions. The nerves were slowly building as was the realization that we were actually going to have to perform this thing! In front of people! And more specifically, in front of our friends who might decide it best to shun us forever if the performance was a disaster. Sunday came along, as it is wont to do, and we had our technical rehearsal – which was actually very exciting! It was pretty amazing to have it sink in that this was actually happening and there was no going back! That evening, we all gathered at Nun’s Island and prepared to hit the stage.

We found out we were going to be 5th. This was not a fun prospect, as we had to sit in the front row of the audience and watch 4 other performances, and keep a hold of our nerves at the same time. The first act started and immediately I wanted to run out of the building – they were brilliant! As were the ones that followed – we had some job to follow them! After the 4th act, I felt strangely calm as we got out of our seats and began to prepare the stage. Luckily the lights prevented me from seeing the crowd too clearly, so in a way we could pretend they weren’t there. And so we began!

We started well, no-one froze and forgot their lines, our accents were ok and the audience laughed – a lot! Lines we didn’t realize were funny got big laughs, while bits we thought were funny maybe didn’t get quite as big a reaction. That was great, but in a way I found it hard to stay in the moment and not laugh along with the audience. About halfway through, I think we lost it a little – the second half wasn’t as good as it had been in rehearsals, but we were still happy with it. We’d a bit of a blip where a section towards the end got skipped over, but the audience didn’t notice. And then we were done!

Twenty minutes on the stage felt like maybe 5! It was incredible. I felt really strange immediately afterwards – I couldn’t believe we’d just done what we’d done and we’d survived! We didn’t make a massive mess of it, sure it wasn’t the best we’d done but still – we did it and it was a great achievement! The rest of the night felt like a dream as we watched the rest of the acts, and then quickly debunked to the nearest pub for a well-earned pint or two, along with the other groups who’d performed! There was a lovely atmosphere, everyone complimented everyone else and there was a great sense of camaraderie. We then finished off the night with a dance in the Róisín (it seemed only right) and then our adventures in theatre-land were well and truly over!

The day after was amazing, I was really filled with a sense of achievement and pride in what we’d done. I can really see how people love being on stage – it’s quite an amazing feeling! Would I do it again? Sure, but only on a small scale! I can’t see myself auditioning for any big shows – but maybe I’d like to get involved in the organization of one in the future. All I know for sure is, it was an amazing thrill and now I’m looking for my next project!

Swings and Roundabouts...

'Swing', one of the short films made by the GMIT film and TV class of 2009. I was an extra in it - the end product isn't maybe the greatest thing ever made, but it was a fun experience!

Oranges Are The Evil Fruit…

Anyone who knows me will know that the one thing in this life that I just cannot abide, is the evil fruit commonly known as ‘The Orange’ (or ‘Fruit of the Devil’ as I prefer to call it).

For as long as I can remember, I have always hated this fruit with every fibre of my being. There are several reasons for this…

1. The colour of it is offensive to me. I’ve never been a fan of the colour ‘orange’.
2. The mess. Oranges are incredibly messy. You can’t just peel the damn thing and eat it – the peel comes off and then there’s all this…pith business going on. Bits and pieces go flying everywhere, and a piece of peel inevitably goes missing, only to be found months later. Disgusting.
3. The stickiness. It’s impossible to eat an orange without being reduced to a sticky-handed mess in their wake. It’s their way of making sure they leave their legacy well after their demise.
4. The smell. Oh my god, the smell. You know the way in Roald Dahl’s book ‘The Witches’, he describes how children smell of kittens and talcum powder and all sweet things to normal people, but to witches, they smell of innards and cat vomit and all sorts of wretched things? Well, that’s how I feel about the smell of oranges – most people love the smell, they think it’s fresh and delicious, but to me, oranges smell of death.

I try to avoid oranges wherever possible. I don’t like touching them, and if someone starts eating one in my presence, I generally have to move away – especially if I’m eating too, as the smell puts me off my food immediately. Most of my friends are aware of my fear of the orange, and are pretty good about not eating them around me.

But every so often, someone decides to have a little fun with me…

Attack of the Oranges I

It was my 27th birthday, and I strolled into the office, full of the joys of life….but what was this on my desk? A present? A lovely present of chocolate perhaps?

No!!

It was a crate of oranges.

A special gift, left to me by my dear German friend Alex – she’d cycled to work during the night and left it there for me! I did laugh about it, I have to say – after I’d found someone who’d move the crate as far away from me as possible.

Attack of the Oranges II

I really was asking for this one, I have to say.

I’d been to the cinema to see the film ‘The Unborn’ (not a classic by any stretch of the imagination) with Liadain and Mark. Liadain loves going to these films, even though they freak the hell out of her, and she watched most of the film from behind her hoodie. I decided to have a little fun with her, and send her texts reminding her of freaky moments in the movies, resulting in her asking her housemate to vet any texts coming from me and delete them before she could accidentally read them.

I decided to go a step further the next day – something I would come to regret. Liadain left the office for an hour or two for an appointment, and in her absence, I decorated her desk, chair and locker with printed off scary photos from the film. On my way home, someone suggested Liadain might decide to play a trick on me in revenge – a revenge that could involve the dreaded oranges. I wanted to go back and get rid of the photos before she could see – but this was impossible that particular evening. I heard nothing from Liadain all evening, and I wondered what awful revenge she might inflict on me.

The next morning, I approached my desk with much trepidation. This is what greeted me…

Oranges. Everywhere. On my chair. On the desk. On my computer. In my locker. Behind folders. EVERYWHERE. Leaving their stinky trace in their wake. The horror was…indescribable. And there was millions of them – it turned out that Dunnes were having a special deal on oranges that day, so Liadain walked out of there with 2 bags full of the evil things.

The boys had to move all the oranges from my desk, and even then I kept finding oranges hidden in random places. It was the horror that just kept on giving. The oranges were safely stored on Claire’s desk, and in her boredom, she began to draw faces on them, resulting in The Orange People.

These Orange People lived in our office for a good few weeks, until the cleaning staff decided they really had to be thrown away.

Now I’m just waiting to see if there’s an Attack of the Oranges III….gulp.