NCP in 2012

Right then, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? So, what’s new?

Well, we’ve emerged from our winter hibernation and now we have a few plans for 2012, these look a little as follows:

September/October – ‘Pride and Prejudice’

Nine months on and the Bennet sisters reunite to take tea, congratulate Jane on her good news and tell Mrs Gardiner what really happened.  Expect love, lies, laughs and crumpets as the siblings faithfully re-create Jane Austen’s most famous novel.

December – ‘A Christmas Carol’

Follow Scrooge through the dark, dank streets of Dickensian London as he learns the true of meaning of Christmas in this ghostly tale of transformation and redemption. Small audiences and an intimate and unusual venue put you right at the heart of the action, York.

We’re not going to Edinburgh this year, (but we’ll probably be back there in 2013), mostly because Rob and Kate, as two of the main driving forces behind Not Cricket are foolhardily absenting themselves to complete the Mongol Rally – you can keep up with their progress over at www.screwgunners.com. And whilst we’re on the Edinburgh subject, Sarah and Kate have set up a website to help companies taking shows to the Fringe for the first time, find out more at www.fringeunravelled.com

Hopefully that had whetted your appetite, more information to follow soon.

The Rose Without a Thorn

 

Cryptic, I know – come and find out more on the 29th October

Halloween Horrors

So we’re back - we’ve caught up on our sleep post-fringe and now we are appearing for one night only in York on the 29th October with a special spooky performance.

Here’s the official blurb:

Join us in the haunted courtyard of King’s Manor for terrifying tales from York’s ghoulish past from grisly ghosts to horrible happenings.

Around All Hallows’ Eve the boundaries between dead and living, past and present break down and spirits can walk the earth, so be prepared for events to take a turn for the unexpected as legend and reality become intertwined. Interactive and immersive storytelling and theatre.

‘Halloween Horrors’ is not suitable for those of a faint-hearted or nervous disposition. Recommended 14+. Please note that this is an outdoor event so do dress suitably.

There are two shows one at 6.30pm and the other at 8.00pm and more information and tickets can be found on the website (www.simplyspiffing.co.uk/prods.html) 

We hope to see you there

The Bits You Don’t Get to See

I’ve spent the last couple of days tying up loose ends from ‘Wolves’ (and beginning to discuss plans for the rest of year, but that’s a story for another day). All the beautiful photographs from the show are now up on Flickr and Facebook, you can have a look at them here -

http://www.flickr.com/photos/notcricketproductions/sets/72157627445875031/

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.267844813245303.88515.150476554982130

We also have lots of (slightly less glamorous) backstage photos, here are a couple of my favourites

Cast warm-up – Hattie (Aunt Jane) and Brian (Sir Willoughby) dancing to ‘power ballad of the day’

Emily (Pattern) fixes her hair as Jez (Mrs Briskett) fills the venue with smoke

Kate Stephenson

Home, James

We made it back late last night, tired but intact, which was something of a miracle considering the van we had managed to hire. This vehicle was a little bit temperamental; with windscreen wipers which didn’t really work, a tendency to pull to the left at speed  and a nasty habit of vibrating and making an unsettling shrieking noise every time 1800 rpm was achieved. Thus Rob (also known as James the Footman) and I took the journey in a very leisurely fashion, pottering in the slow lane and stopping regularly for tea.  My favourite break of the day must go to Berwick-on-Tweed where we took the opportunity to inspect the viaduct and castle, as well as a rather fine bookshop.

Viaduct appreciation

Kate Stephenson

Clear Up Completed

Cleaning up after the Fringe is almost as big a task as putting on a play. All the various props (in this case brooms, mops, bleach, and trash bags) must be acquired, all the various actors must be assessed for their skills (cleaning, organising, lifting, making tea), and placed into parts. Enough people must be found to carry these out that no one’s tasks are either thankless or unreasonable. And then the inevitable action must be performed.

Some actors were offstage for much of this particular show- the Fringe itself ended on a Tuesday, after which there were no real obligations to stay. They left having played their personal part, packing, finding a few of their things, and taking a few empty bottles to recycle. The rest of us began with the real work- sorting unending piles of unclaimed laundry, returning the furniture to the rooms it had started in, and cooking various dishes that used up the back-cupboard remnants of dry goods and vegetables that we had acquired through the month.

This process was helped slightly by the various, partially-full bottles we began to discover around the rooms. Some were merely the dregs of wine bottles, but there was also quite a lot of unfinished gin, which we couldn’t let go to waste. Thus, to celebrate the end of the Fringe (and the finding of a much closer bottle deposit bin) we indulged in some light lunchtime drinking, which became slightly more frantic as more members of the cast began to leave, saddling those of us left with the heavier burdens of cleaning and imbibing.

By dinner that night, about five of us were left, along with a few Edinburgh-based friends who came to join us. It was quite subdued, since we were all in mourning for our lost innocence and empty bank accounts. Joking, of course. That happened halfway through the Fringe. We were in mourning because the Fringe was over, and soon we’d have no one nearby to complain to about our lost innocence and our empty bank accounts.

The next morning, with my big suitcase stowed away (with both my things and the various debris everyone else had left behind), I set off to the train to start a Great English Week and a Half, rollicking around the English countryside visiting people and catching up on much needed sleep.

Sarah Gulick

You Know You are at the Fringe When:

You carry about the strangest items with you – who needs chalk? Or, how about a rubber egg? No?

All your pockets and bags are full of flyers, you find begin to find flyers in the most unsettling places – the fridge, the bathroom cabinet, your bed…

You get horribly over-excited when your Royal Mile crush says hello to you

An early night means getting to bed before 2am

You construct a Venn diagram of the coffee shops with free Wifi and cheap tea.

Kate Stephenson

There’s Nothing Sadder Than a Headless Goose

The Wolves of Willoughby Chase incorporates two lovely goose puppets, Goosey and Gandey, which we use both to flier and perform. Most of the time. The geese are fragile, and require the kind of tender care usually associated with a baby; they can’t be left out in the rain, they must be carefully arranged when someone isn’t holding them, and they are never handed over to strangers.

These rules, plus an occasional new coat of paint, gave us faith that the geese would survive the whole run, and fly (or waddle) happily into September. This may still be the case, but there will be further attention required. As I walked down the street to a bookstore reading a few days ago, Gandey companionably by my side, I felt a pop, and looked down. Gandey’s head bobbed on one string, his body supported by the others, while the pieces of his neck rolled all over Edinburgh’s Princes Street. The main pieces collapsed in a sad heap, while the small connecting beads rolled over the sidewalk and into the gutter.

After the initial panic and collection, where I was deeply glad that my dress had schoolgirl pockets, ideal to hold pieces of goose neck, I continued to walk towards the bookshop. Gone was the wholesome image of girl and goose, and instead I appeared as a much creepier image, goose-torturer, girl with ghost-goose. While the strings that held the head and body were still connected, the different body parts were not, and the head simply floated in midair, presaging bird doom.

The more I walked, the more I felt that I was carrying a real, dead bird, lifelessly drooped at my waist. This was heightened by the time I arrived at the bookshop, where, to avoid frightening the children we were to read to, I gathered up goose head and body in my arms, holding them as if they comprised an injured warrior. 

At least we can bring the geese back to life. Gandey was revived, and both geese are back in the spotlight.

Sarah Gulick

A Nice Feeling

So This Happened….

http://ed.thestage.co.uk/reviews/1417

…which was exciting.