Next Stop: A Very Well Dressed A&E

Right, do you remember my moaning about the inadequacy of a table to stand in for a yew tree in rehearsal? Well I was right. Tables definitely do not have branches and so I definitely wasn’t able to factor in avoiding them when running at top speed. The result: one massive bump (I’m not even being histrionic, I thought I was going to sprout a horn), a near concussion, and quite a tough-looking bloodied wound above my right eyebrow. Now the cast of Threshold assures me that not only is it in keeping with my character (who thinks he’s a pretty hard but is actually quite a klutz) but it has also endowed me with that sort of Harry Potter quality. I’m not really sure what that means as I’m almost certain I don’t have the ability to apparate nor am I going to find an invisibility cloak any time soon and if you take that away from HP you’re pretty much left with a four-eyed boy with a scar and a bowl haircut.

But I’m not the only one who’s been in the wars (and that’s not my only injury) and the whole cast has had cuts, bruises, aches and pains galore. And at the after one particularly brutal performance (the head-banging day), producer Will surveyed the room and said: “I know you call me “Dad”, but I’m pretty sure social services would have stepped in by now.” But unfortunately the united role between producer and father is not a binding one and so far our Morningside address has not been visited by anyone to take us into care. 

It has, however, been visited by the lovely people at Barbour. Being an outdoorsy show isn’t all about vicious meetings between body parts and the countryside but also the more gentrified side of life. And so Threshold has managed to secure sponsorship from Barbour, resulting in every member of the cast and crew being given a Barbour jacket which we can wear during the tumultuous weather. And, don’t get me wrong, we love them and I think we pull off the swanky get-up in our remote rural location very well but walking around Edinburgh is quite a different story. When we’re all Barbour-clad traipsing around the city amongst the bustling festival types we definitely get some peculiar looks. I think at first we decided to fool ourselves into thinking it was envy but I’m pretty certain it’s because we look like a gang of poorly prepared flashers. Anyway, for a secret show that doesn’t do print advertising, I guess it’s probably a good way to get people talking.

And with a day off tomorrow, we’re all heading out on the town with Barbours and bruises in tow. So if you see a battered man that looks something like my photo wearing an excellent coat, it’s probably not me so don’t say hello.

Yours dapperly and slightly achingly,

Tom

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