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drinks Monday 3 November 08
Mildred and Georgie in Ed
Georgina Edwards booked a venue for Edinburgh 06 without a show or another actor. Then she met Mildred, actress (and matchmaker to the stars). And the rest is...
by Georgina Edwards
Before - July 06
After - September 06
Before - July 06
I've spent the last 30 minutes crying in my room because I'm not going to be credited as writer this year.
Granted, I haven't actually written the show. But I've put so much blood, sweat and grief into this bloody play that I feel entitled to a small share of everyone else's glory. The rest of the team feel the same way - hence my tears.
OK this has been one of many emotional outbursts during the last 6 months. Mildred and I met at a drama-school audition - I turned up at the wrong audition area at the wrong time. I had to wait an hour to get a turn to do my bit - which is when I met Mildred. She's a feisty little minx with iron-like determination laid on jelly-like feelings. The sort of person you can squidge - nicely. As I wasn't meant to be there, we decided it was kismet. So going to Edinburgh together was inevitable. Optimistically, I'd already paid a venue deposit - with no play or anyone to act with. So stellar intervention was welcome.
We've rehearsed for 3 weeks. It doesn't seem to have got far. We've worked all hours for all this time - and have about 5 times more stuff to do in 2 more weeks.
The play is set in a park. There's a lovely garden at my home in Derby so we spent last weekend rehearsing there, to get the atmosphere. And we found a director - another credit I now can't have. She's brilliant, no-nonsense Miriam. Giving the third eye, I found, means ripping the play to tatters. More tears. But the play is stronger.
We think Miriam and my brother Michael could make a perfect match. Hmm.
There's a week to go before our first performance. We're getting lots of emails and texts about previews for other shows in London and Edinburgh. We can't afford to do either. And there's the implication that everyone else's shows are ready. We did a run-through of the show yesterday - it was crap. But it was funny - in parts - which is a relief as it's a comedy. We've kidnapped Miriam for the whole week, so it's no longer Mildred and I guessing what might look good.
Good news (props). We're being sponsored by a beautiful bench company in Edinburgh. Bad news - we can't think how to collect it. Good news (tickets). We've sold 16. Bad news - we need to sell another 704.
Team spirit. To be honest, we're all pretty sick of the play. Keeping upbeat and peppy is becoming a pain in the arse. Tempers are extremely ragged. It was Mildred's turn to have a paddy yesterday. She was politely told that at this stage, this behaviour could no longer be tolerated. So there. I am knackered.
Romantically, Mildred and I might as well be a couple. We spend so much time together - and argue as much. Miriam and Mike have been sending each other a few texts - but no moves have been pulled yet. We think maybe it's the age gap.
Things to look forward to this week: The road trip to Edinburgh on Saturday. But first, Derby again, for our first performance (in the garden). No-one might turn up - so we're in good spirits about that too. If it rains, we're screwed.
Yet another trough for team Mildred-Georgie. Mildred's gardener/writer boyfriend came to see the show today. He very politely pointed out that you couldn't understand what the hell we were on about.
We've been so worried about cutting out all the fluff that we've stripped it of all meaning - except obscure ideas that we have very intelligent explanations for. Unfortunately, we won't be able to meet every audience member in the pub and explain. Next time I'll leave the writing to experts, and have a play with beautiful props lists at the back and set designs. It's 4 days before our first show, and back to the beginning. Bollocks.
We were supposed to wake late today, to catch up on sleep. So when I trundle downstairs (not feeling at all rested) at 10:45 to find Mildred typing hard, I am livid. ‘What time did you get up?' I say, casually. ‘7:30' says Mildred, in a nonchalant but actually very smug way - the way you can only do if you know you've done well. And that's how the day continues. Miriam and Mike have stopped texting each other. Mildred and I have tripled our smoking rate to 40 a day. The play is no better or clearer. We have completely run out of ideas.
After - September 06
I'm sitting comfortably in my house in Derby mulling over the past 2 months. All the fuss and thespianism is over.
Back to just before the Fringe. We left Derby at 8am and arrived in Edinburgh at 2pm. That left 3 hours to pick up the bench at a country mansion, transport our set to the venue, and get ourselves and the rest of our stuff to the house.
Mildred - cleverly - opted out of this trip and went to London for a final evening with her folks before catching the train up. We hadn't even left, and I was pissed off with her - not a good start. Miriam was already in Edinburgh, putting up posters and trying to spread the word. Translated, this means she was getting hammered and seeing loads of shows.
We'd roped in Luke, my Australian cousin staying with us for a year, as front-of-house manager (aka general skivvy). So it was just me and Luke with a bootful of hanging rails, 10,000 flyers, 200 posters, 6000 stickers, 4000 balloons and a load of props. After a mad dash through town, we got to the flat that was going to be home to us (and about 15 others) for the three weeks. We found ourselves in a palace. Hooray!
It's true that the owner was a bit dodgy. We found 3 porn collections stashed round the house. He drank a complete bottle of wine during the 20 minutes tour of the house. But who were we to judge? By the end of our stay, the house looked like a bottle factory.
Our venue was advertised as cheap. It was the first time the manager had used it. He gave us a great deal - as long as we understood that ‘teething problems' would inevitably follow.
It was in a large, drab, hotel - like a Holiday Inn. To get to our 'theatre' meant finding the lift, going up to the 7th floor, then climbing stairs to the 8th floor conference room.
We arrived for the first performance, psyched-up and raring to go. After a technical rehearsal in which we had to stick masking tape on the windows to try and get blackout, we decided to stay positive. Our venue was ‘cosy and rustic', after all.
We knew we had 20 people coming, because we had to walk through them to get from the dressing room to backstage. We were shocked at the number - we hadn't done any flyering yet.
Mildred and I waited with bated breath behind our hanging rail, aka the set. Suddenly a loud rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr noise came from the speakers. It was the kind of noise that would make you want to kill yourself if it didn't stop. I've no idea what went wrong, but the audience was shown in anyway. They had to sit in a room with awful fluorescent light and a broken air conditioner for 15 minutes - while the speakers sporadically belched out this horrible noise. By the time the lights went down, they'd been given a complimentary glass of water. Mildred and I were dying of frustration.
So we started. The speakers packed up again. We had to carry on. Doing a mime sequence without sound is - crap.
At the end of the show, Mildred and I fell into each other's arms half-laughing, half-crying. I said 'Well, at least no-one important was here.' Miriam came to meet us behind the rail in floods of tears. I thought, 'Bloody hell. Were we that bad?' Miriam said 'Three Weeks came tonight.' Damn.
Three Weeks gave us a mediocre 3 stars - we were quite pleased. The Stage came later on. They complimented us highly on our acting - great. They also said the writing was crap. Not so good. Did I mention I had nothing to do with the writing?
The next 21 days consisted of blearily getting out of bed, realising we'd only sold 2 tickets for the day, and flyering till it got past 20. Then the performance - and the after-party. Our flat evolved into a squat. At one point there were 10 extra people staying there. I only recognised half of them, and realised that the washing-up wasn't going to get done - and it was only me tidying up.
Romantically, Mildred was well and truly taken. She therefore took on the role of chief match-maker for everyone else. Her Edinburgh 06 projects included:
1 - Luke and our costume lady, Claire. A few evenings alone tête-à-tête, but sadly, no love. Luke was hot for the box-office girls at our venue. This meant he was 30 minutes earlier than anyone else to every show, to chat them up. And it turned out that Claire had only just broken up with her long-term boyfriend, so wasn't in the market.
Mildred wasn't disheartened - it made her even more determined to set someone else up. Me.
2 - Georgie and our flyer designer, Nick. Nick never made it up to Edinburgh, so all of Mildred's leg-work in London was sadly wasted.
3 - Georgie and Geordie's friend from university, Toby. I was adamant I had to do this for myself, but didn't.
4 - Georgie and the fit guys who were on straight after us at the venue. Mildred decided to take matters directly into her own hands, by using her Freudian psychoanalytical techniques. One of the boys burst into tears after realising he had a difficult relationship with his father. The mood was lost. I wasn't bothered as they were only 18 - a bit too young. Mildred disagreed.
Looking back the Fringe, I can't wait to do it again. Tears, drawbacks, extreme loss of money, leaving without a boyfriend? Being involved in such an incredible celebration of art, theatre, music and dance is overwhelming. Taking a play to Edinburgh is a staple must-do.
Back home, I've caught myself surprised, in a newsagent's queue or in the bank, that the person next to me doesn't want to chat. It's a few weeks ago now, and I've gone back to keeping myself to myself. I've slept 14 hours a night. Edinburgh? Too much choice! Practically all the men were good-looking. If they weren't, they made up for it by being extremely talented. So, I had crushes on about 10 people in a month (and split my time between them all). Being so greedy meant not spending enough time with any one person to move past go. Fun, though.
END
(c) Georgina Edwards 23 September 06
Magpie was at Edinburgh Festival Fringe, 7-27 August 2006. Venue - Venue 260, Jury's Inn, 43 Jeffrey Street. Start time - 17:10. Cast Credits (alpha order): Georgina Edwards. Mildred. Company Credits: Writer - Mildred. Additional material by Georgina Edwards. Director - Miriam Gillinson. Graphic Designer - Nick Hayes. Sound Technician - Simon Pepper. Set & Costume Designer - Claire Winfield. Stage Manager - Luke O'Leary. Producer - Georgina Edwards. Company - Quirky Productions (http://quirkyproductions.co.uk/). Profits of the production to Samaritans.
Mildred is the pseudonym of an actress
Fringe Report (c) Fringe Report 2002-2008
