Saturday, September 29, 2012

Tea-Time's Mystery Bag

Some long-time (long-suffering?) readers might remember a couple of years back when I put on a wee one-man play in the Energy Room at Maker . . .
. . .a few short days after the show ended, our old friend Tea-Time Taylor got in touch and invited me around for a cuppa to his small but perfectly formed abode on the cliffs at Tregonhawke. Not all that far from the hobbit-holes in this shot, in fact.
Much chin wagging ensued over a steaming mug of Lapsang Souchong (my, how sophisticated we are) in which the ever-entertaining Tea-Time told me of his ideas for assorted productions and even cinematic releases.

It was during this conflab that I discovered that Tea-Time is the proud owner of some very exciting theatrical doo-dahs and that he might be happy to let me have use of them at some indeterminate time in the future.

That time has arrived and is now declared to be determinate.

And so, on Thursday morning last, Tea-Time Taylor lolloped up our garden path and deposited a couple of large black bags in what used to be (and soon will be once again) Jah Cousteau's bedroom.
Ohh err - the bag is marked "Cobra" - am I about to perform a snake-charming act? Have I joined the government's emergency decision making committee?

No - the Lords of Misrule are playing a ceilidh tonight in a large barn near Cremyll - if the organiser's estimate is accurate there'll be 200-300 people wanting to trip the light fantastic to our melodeon-led dance tunes. But a barn is a big space to fill, even with a hay-trailer as a stage. And so we need . . . 
. . .lights!

These are remarkable powerful L.E.D. parcans which should give us a nice colour wash to make it look a bit less like a bunch of morris-people standing on a trailer.

Tea-Time gave me a quick lesson in how to set them up and what the switches on the back of each one do. I'll let you know tomorrow whether I took all this in properly or not.

I'd love to invite everybody to come and dance the night away with us but this one's an invitation only, private, affair; we're just the hired troubadours. I do believe that our old friend J.Edgar is going to be there, though, as it's his mum-in-law's party.

Right - time to iron a stage-costume shirt and start getting the kit together . . . .chin chin.

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