I shot Cromwell!

This time last week I was one show down on a six show bonanza as part of Bridgwater Arts Centre’s 70^th anniversary celebrations. We were putting on a promenade show throughout the centre telling tales of the history of the place and the street with drama, comedy, ghosts and music.

I was cast as Christabella Wyndham, who I knew nothing of, except that in her lines, she abuses Cromwell from the battlements of the then Bridgwater Castle and shoots him. Yes, please.

Coming from Derry, the name Cromwell is virtually a curse. We were always told that he was the cause of the Derry/Londonderry debate as he ‘gave’ Derry to the people of London as a gift after the terrible conquest. I can find no historical back-up to that story. He also became part of our family ‘mythology’.  The story goes that my mother (who, unlike her loud and forthright daughter is actually sweet, demure and polite) was visiting her sister in London and they were taking in the sights. But when Mum took in the triumphant Cromwell on his horse outside Parliament, apparently she spat at him!

I told the scriptwriters, Beth Webb and Chloe Lees that I’d be thrilled to take the story one step further and shoot him instead. Enjoying that I relished my opportunity to unleash my vitriol, they added more lines and more curses (thanks to the Shakespearian Book of Insults). I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed calling Cromwell a plume-plucked, dog-hearted, bum bailey…though we were slightly concerned about the meaning until we discovered it was to do with bailiffs, honest.

As I was thinking about all this, I had the slap in the face moment when I ‘remembered/realised’ that my son is called Oliver. I only ever think of Cromwell by surname, and call my son all variations of his name so I don’t put the two together. Whoops! And I recalled my mother’s shock when I said my infant would be called Oliver all those years ago. “After Cromwell?” she shrieked down the phone. Quick thinking and a helpful Catholic education saved the day, “No, Plunkett, Oliver Plunkett”. A saint conveniently buried in Ireland.

Anyway, turns out Christabella was a piece of work, she flashed her breasts at Cromwell first (to distract or insult, I cannot tell) but when she fired, she missed him and killed his sergeant instead. How might she have changed the course of history from little Bridgwater had she been a better shot?
Ah, well, the shows are now over and my heart is quiet having pacified my ancient Irish psyche, for now…

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Pokémon Go and Aspie wellbeing

Pokémon GO! Love it or hate it, it certainly has Aspies on the move and talking to one another and that can only be a good thing, right?

I ignored Beloved Aspie when he uttered the word Pokémon after many years (during which he had matured through Dr Who and Star Trek and Marvel and DC Superheroes). I dismissed it as a passing notion, maybe he’d seen an article somewhere, and anyway, it’s for kids – he won’t go down that road again.

Two weeks later we have time travelled back some seventeen years when Pikachu made his (her?) first appearance in our lives – in the shape of a small rubberised toy, a lunch box, a school rucksack, bedlinen…back then it was something fun he could safely talk to other kids about in school.

When he hit his teenage years and Asperger’s pulled him under, Pokémon became a conversation between me and him. I learned their various tricks and powers whilst Gameboy became the only source of entertainment and protection from the outside world. Pokémon even had a whole scene to themselves in the first play I wrote and performed. (From Within)

At 27, Beloved Aspie is a charming, eloquent, socially engaged young man, working on his independence skills while living at home. So it was with a little surprise that I heard him announce one afternoon last week, “I’m just popping out.” I asked if he was going to chat to our neighbour. “No, there’s a Pokémon up the road. I have my keys and I will observe my road safety.” And he was gone.

The other day I invited him to join me for a walk, it was a half-hearted offer, he usually says no. His eyes lit up  -“Yes.” Apparently these Pokémon are everywhere! He got some fresh air and exercise – I got a laugh.

The weekend was the same with him joining the Hubs and I for a day out. On the way home he announces in the car, “That was a great day.” Was it the sunshine, the Oreo marshmallows, the pizza, the new belt he needed, our fabulous company?

Of course not: it was the woman he chatted to while catching Horsea where she was sitting and the young men he chatted to about their quests in the shopping village, and the third Eevee he caught.

Frankly, it’s all good in my eyes – thank you Pokémon Go for socialising our Aspies, and all the other socially shy or awkward teens who are coming out to play, too.

Let loose on Radio at Sedgemoor FM

Today I exited my comfort zone for the first time in a while. I’ve just recorded my first contributions to our local radio station Sedgemoor FM here in sunny Somerset.

I was terrified!

Which is completely daft given that I have spent most of my life in jobs that involve A) talking and B) an audience. I’ve been a lawyer, a teacher, a group facilitator, an actor for goodness sake!! And I’ve been interviewed on Radio several times and loved it

.

So what was so scary about actually presenting part of a show? I’m still not entirely sure. There’s the simple wee bit about doing something different when you’re embracing your middle age and think perhaps you’ve got all your skill set pretty much fixed. And you realise that your comfort zone has become a cosy-zone and you don’t need to come out.

Perhaps there’s a wee bit of writer’s isolation going on. I spend so much time in my own head, listening to the voices of my characters, or working out plots, or typing at my desk, alone and quiet, sharing my thoughts in text, that perhaps the idea of relying on my voice has become alien to me.

And there was a very big bit of technological terror. Ben McGrail, a presenter at BBC Radio Somerset, was kind enough to let me hang out in his studio a couple of weeks ago while his show was going out live. He works so hard! There are screens everywhere, buttons everywhere, messages coming in from his producer, texts, tweets, Facebook messages and phonecalls all going on.

Of course, the real fear is that you’ll forget you’re on the radio in someone’s kitchen or wherever and you’ll swear – in front of their children!! And suddenly your head is full of really inappropriate subjects and rude jokes. The daftest fear was that I would have nothing to say, at all, about anything, ever…and anyone who knows me knows how totally ridiculous that is!

Regardless of all this fear, I took myself off to the newly launched Sedgemoor FM on 104.2 this morning to meet some of the other presenters and maybe record some stuff. Well, seriously, what was I so worried about? It’s a neat, professional studio slickly overseen by Dave Englefield who’s had years in the business. The atmosphere was relaxed and chilled and we had fun! Phew!

Okay, so I’m still a wee bit worried that I’ll sound like a rambling idiot – but d’you know – so what? It’s going to be a laugh. I’m looking forward to growing into my radio shoes. Come and tune in. Or visit on Facebook or Twitter @sedgemoorfm Tell me how I’m doing…nicely, please.