ClandestinationDate: 6 August 2010On the day of the 4th of August 2010 a miracle happened: over 10 hours and no vomit.
I was especially glad that Pablo, the most openly car sick member of the cast, who defiantly tempted fate by eating a full fry-up before embarking on our tetris-packed minibus, didn’t end up sharing a single baked bean with the rest of the Threshold company. And the journey was passed for the most part relatively painlessly thanks to the mostly 90s throw-back r’n’b tunes that busted through our speakers. Although I’m sure the Scouts who we blagged the minibus from would have recoiled and ran back to their hut in disgust at our rendition of Salt-n-Pepa’s “Push It” complete with actions and emphatic grunts. An apt song choice mind you as we collectively leant forward to ensure our over-worked and overloaded people-carrier made it over the biggest hill of the drive somewhere around the outskirts of Newcastle.
But apart from defiling the minibus with perversion of the audio variety, the Scouts can rest their caps assured that we got it to our Morningside Edinburgh address otherwise unscathed. And after a well-deserved night’s sleep yesterday morning was greeted by us cast members with particular enthusiasm as we were taken to our secret location for the very first time. As you recall, rehearsing a site-specific piece off-site has been somewhat troublesome at times so to have our set ready for us in all its splendour was pretty overwhelming. And by golly, there’s a lot of it. Again, I can’t tell you much about what we got up to in our first day of rehearsal at our “clandestation” but today I met a goat called George (leaving George from our own cast feeling slightly upstaged), paddled in a river and followed the scent of booze blindfolded.
And that last activity seems pretty appropriate to you lot – this blog isn't all that different to me waving a big bottle of gin in front of your sightless faces: you can smell the party but you just don’t know where it is!
Here’s hoping you take the chance to find that gin bottle.
Cross the Threshold; the hunt begins here
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