A Small Mind At The Theatre

At the end of this presentation of a work in progress from local storyteller Jo Blake Cave, I commented to the poetic chap seated to my left about a conversation that I had some time ago about the desired style of delivery of a storyteller. Over the three years or so I have seen a few different ways it has to be said, and I always lean towards the more dynamic, animated style rather than, perhaps, the traditional style (if indeed there is one) of static delivery, where the words do all the work. It was clear which side my left seated companion came down as in the interesting post-show discussion, he made his point very positively, and well made although perhaps it was clear from the assembled he was in the minority. However, perhaps this is where you have to be careful about opening up a show in development to a rightfully opinionated public. As this show, is clearly a very personal one, and maybe, just maybe, it's teller must and only must put the show on the way she desires...

The eighth Feast Of Fools storytelling event was an Open Mic night and for me since the very beginning these have always been the most entertaining. The guest nights have always been of huge quality, watching true masters of their art in action. However for me, variety is that spice and that is where my love of the Open Mic comes. There is always something truly different ten minutes away. This Open Mic night was without any shadow of a doubt the best and most packed to the gills with talent with both professional and those wonderful, but not quite professional tellers in action. During the evening ten performers took to the stage and each brought something unique to the evening. Our resident host Richard York began the evening with some torturing of an innocent animal to make sound (yes my favourite bag piping, lovely!) and he launched us into the evening with a tale involving a cat licking poo off itself and us in the audience singing in Christmas with a variety of farmyard anima...

Let me tell you the story of the day that this won me nothing. I am more likely to get trampled by a herd of wilderbeest down Northampton's Abington Street while I am dressed as Elvis Presley and having a chat with Lord Lucan than to win a raffle. There was even a booby prize last night and I didn't even get a chance to (more than likely) pick that. However I digress, this evening was not about my troubles about winning a raffle. This was the very first, inaugural, premiere, debut, opening and actually something that hadn't happened before, it was the Feast Of Fools Storytelling evening. It was also at a venue I had never been before, the NN Cafe. The idea of Feast Of Fools is to establish a regular (monthly) evening of storytelling from both established and open mic newbies. On this first night, we had four established tellers (although I understand one was only their second performance, so I lie) to start off the event. We had our host Richard York with occasional ...

CRICK! CRACK! CRICK! CRACK! However enough about my back problems. If you are sitting comfortably (well one of us needs to be), then I shall begin. On a fair and splendid evening in the month of Februarius, the hero of our story took a trip to the theatre in a beautiful pea green coat. His destination did hold many tales so bold, from storytellers both young and old. Beneath the Derngate there lays a space they call the underground. This is no Piccalilli or Paddington silly, there are no trains here to behold. On this day the space was filled with tables and chairs that lay quite scattered around. Little tea lights glittered upon each table while a waitress wandered around. The Open Mic Story Night was an opportunity for keen individuals to get up in front of the mic (there was no mic!) and have a go at storytelling. My first experience of storytelling as an art form had come just a month earlier with Fairytales For Grown Ups  and it has been a fascinating ex...

I arrived at the avenue campus on a dull, rainy afternoon having left a pile of washing up behind me, how these pesky students knew of such things I have no idea. However, having received my ticket (a piece of string), I and the assembled crowd were invited into the Isham Studios (dark edition no less). Inside was a set consisting mainly of string, either hanging from the ceiling or pooling upon the floor. Also present was one of the actors wafting incense around which was leaving a pleasant aroma. Also music, a soothing, soulful song was playing, perfect to fall asleep to. Taking our seats (please take them, oh the agony), we waited for proceedings to begin. Our introduction came from Lydia Rose Blagg, one of those that I was able to identify in the show (thanking you Twitter), and I say now from the outset that I am yet to be able to know all of the stars in the show, but this detracts from not one of you, because, you were all mighty fine. However Lydia spirited us away from the...