Carlton Chronicle - December 2004

Ruth Brooks writes: Every year, the Carlton puts on a panto for the annual Christmas Party. And this year will be no different! "Hurrah", I hear you cry! It's always a big success, and it's a great chance to send up the shows and events of the year gone by.

The Christmas Party is on the 11th December, so we'll need to get a wiggle on to make sure it's up to it's usual high standard!

Please can you let me know if you'd like to participate: Rehearsals will be on :

I'm also looking for little helpers to transform the community centre into a magical fairy land.

Please volunteer freely and quickly, otherwise, I'll will get out my thumb screws and elbow twisters and you all know how I hate doing that!

THE 2005 WORKSHOPS

Lucie Morris writes: Hi everyone! There are so many exciting events coming up in the next few months, but I just wanted to let everyone know that I am producing the workshops on 3rd and 4th of March next year with Paul Flannery, so I really hope lots of people want to either act, stage manage, direct or help out front of house. The workshops this year were a great success, with a real mix of plays, sketches and new material written by members. For new members who don't know the Workshops are two very relaxed 'showcase' evenings of Carlton's talent, where the audience can drink wine and eat nibbles as they are entertained! We need to have a few rehearsals under our belts before Christmas so there will be two special evenings starting the week after Two for members to get together with Paul and I so we can sort out what is to be included, and running orders etc. So do come along to room C & D at the WCC on Thursday 2nd December and Monday 6th December. For people who are hoping to direct - we have six new members who have been attending my Monday night improv group so do please keep an open mind to casting until we get together to give new people a chance of being involved. However, if you have already got any thoughts for something you'd like to perform or direct feel free to email me so we can start getting a flavour of what people would like to do. Many thanks! Love, Lucie

2005 GALA PERFORMANCE

Kathie Arundell writes: A red carpet, Cristal Champagne, DJs, Ballgowns and tiaras (but no tantrums puleeze!) Planning is now underway for our Star Studded Gala next year - put the date in your diaries NOW - Saturday 9th April 2005. Wimbledon Venue to be advised.

Along with the usual wonderful gourmet sustenance, exquisite refreshments, a number of special guests hopefully will be in attendance. At the moment, invitations have been extended to Elvis 'The King' Presley, Shania Twain, Andrea Corr, Tom Jones and Bjork to name just a few! Musical Maestro Mr Mike A will be doing the music; Masterful Matt and Incredible Ian will be compering the evening!

But would YOU like to be a STAR for one night only? Would YOU like to join that esteemed star-quality company? Would YOU like to say "Tonight Matthew and Ian, I am going to be..."?

Okay, the plan is that whilst we are all stars in our own right, some of us have that extra special starry talent to sing and be someone else. Who would you like to be? Let us know! If you want to be your own wonderful self and sing - tell us! If time permits, we'll have a girls' chorus and might even throw in a boy band too. If any of this interests you, please get in touch with Kathie Arundell (in confidence) and we will take it from there. There are limited slots - so don't wait - make a decision NOW and join the fun!

The plans are underway for a Gala that, with your participation, will be a Star-Studded night - one never to be forgotten!

Kathie can be contacted on Kathie.Arundell@hblb.org.uk; Kathryn.Arundell@ukgateway.net; 0208 540 5457 - call now!

'Oleanna' by David Mamet

Carlton member Carl Whiteside is putting on an independent production of Mamet's blistering play. Here's his take on it.

What it is

As titles go, this one is rather obscure. Oleanna refers to a folk story about how a man (named Ole) and his wife (Anna) bought acres of swampland then sold it as farmland and vanished with the proceeds. The buyers were left with worthless property. This became known as the "Oleanna swindle."

David Mamet's explosive classic, Oleanna, sees Carlton's John Gargrave and Libby Preston, starring as John, a university lecturer, and Carol, a student who comes to him to discuss why she's failing his course, locked in a blistering conflict of language, sex and power

Consider this situation: two people approach an intersection from different vantage points. When an accident occurs, they both observe the same facts, yet afterwards their versions of events differ considerably. Neither is lying; rather, it is the subjective rather than the objective element of their account which is unique to each witness. This sort of difference of perspectives (albeit in other circumstances) is one theme explored by writer David Mamet

The characters' relationship is developed through three acts, each showing a new phase of their interaction. In some ways, the progression of Oleanna is more like that of a psychological thriller than a drama. The play spirals in on itself, twisting from sanity and reason to primal emotion

The tension is maintained throughout because we can't decide whose side we're on. Both characters are unsympathetic, and both compromised because of their personality weaknesses. Mamet's dialogue has a rhythm and cadence all its own. By the end of the play, we in the audience feel as trapped as the characters on stage. Oleanna probes deeply into some of the darker facets of human interaction, and anything with this keen an edge will cause discomfort

Why I'm doing it

I saw the recent West End production starring Aaron Eckhart and Julia Stiles and was struck by its power. The script is beautifully crafted and the more you read it the more you find hidden in the apparently "banal" dialogue particularly of Act 1

I saw a fantastic opportunity not only for me to flex my directorial muscles but also for the two actors to really get to grips with the characters

Set in John's office the play is quite static in terms of physical movement and there are no entrances or exits to contend with. The set, lighting and sound are simple and the costumes are modern. Therefore by stripping out all of those aspects it gave me the challenge of focusing purely on the characters and their interaction. Basically it gave me a chance to try to achieve all of the potential above

Who's involved

When and where

Thursday 20th and Friday 21st January 2005 , Wimbledon Community Centre, £5

Rarely has a visit to the theatre seemed more like a night of boxing...delivers a knockout punch. Mamet is a master of the unexpected twist. [Charles Spencer, Daily Telegraph]

Oleanna is thought-provoking theatre at its best. [Kevin O'Sullivan, Daily Mirror]

...more than just a play. It was a cultural beacon - one of the most combustible, combative plays of its decade. **** [Mark Shenton, The Express]

Oleanna Cast and Crew
John	John Gargrave
Carol	Libby Preston
Director	Carl Whiteside

fear will freeze you when you face...the PROBE

assuming the position this issue - the witty* Ian Ward

Thanks very much Ian! More probing next prog...send in your nominations now! No, really! HAVE YOUR SAY!
*descriptions charged at the following rates: Honest=free; Tactful=£5; Glowing=£10

A Carlton Carol

Thanks Debbie - that's brought back some great memories of the year. It's been a good one! Gawd help us, every one!

The 2004 Carlton Quiz

Get your thinking caps out and put your brains in the oven, Katy Wey nee Hebbourn and Jeff Graves have put togther a great quiz to test your knowledge of the Carlton past and present. And the answers will be revealed at the Christmas Party on 11th December, with the person getting the most correct answers winning a fantastic prize (to be decided...).

Playing Away

With so much talent in our group, it's not surprising that so many of our members are involved in groups and projects outside the Carlton.

Kristen is also a member of Mid Surrey Theatre Company, who are performing an innovative new amateur production of Gilbert and Sullivan's 'The Mikado' (or 'How to succeed in business without really dying'). Kristen is playing the fantastic part of Yum Yum. The Mikado is being performed at the Epsom Playhouse, 23-27 November, the same as 'Two', but I'm sure those of you not involved will go and support our neighbouring groups.

I'm still waiting on the word back from a couple of schools regarding the plans to turn "The Bacchae" into a TIE* production within the forseeable future term.

In the meantime there is not much to report--apart from a proposed playreading in Chelsea this Wednesday, and the continuing interest provided by IMPROV workshops, not to mention something which Richard Broughton has been promoting and which seems like a case of improvisation evolving into scriptwriting and (from there) eventually into performance.

*TIE is the standard abbreviation for Theater in Education, hmmyess! Some may just see this as a thinly disguised gravy train of a sort for struggling actors...and who am I to disagree?

Seriously, though, there is not a whole lot of money to made out of this but it does constitute a good way of boosting the profile of any performing group. There is regular work to be had in this field, especially in the area of further education colleges, and so we will be probing the opportunities accordingly. Go, tell it on the mountains!

P.S. Some other 'group' is performing "The Bacchae" at the Lyric in Hammersmith about now - I think. It seems that Euripides and many other things Greek are very much back in vogue. Ciao!

An Extra's Tale

"Ankle-deep in fake snow"

Kristen McGorry has been earning her crust as an film extra - in this new series she chronicles the glitz, the glamour, the breakfast...

Since leaving full time work in April I have responded to any questions about my current employment status with a deliberately vague "I'm in TV". If pushed to elaborate I might mumble something about production and possibly add scriptwriter if the questioner is particularly relentless in their pursuit of small talk. But usually "I'm in TV" is enough to command an audience of accountants and bank managers hanging on your every word eager to have their lives brightened just by being in close proximity to someone who once served macaroni cheese to Bernard Cribbins.

Unfortunately though I am also freelance which results in long periods of being what is commonly called unemployed (or resting if you are an actor) but pretty much adds up to the same thing. Namely endless days of surfing the Internet, flicking despondently through the cable TV channels, trying to master the art of napping and eating biscuits. Chocolate hobnobs if your last spell of employment has been within the last three months, rich tea if not.

So when I was offered the opportunity to broaden my experience and do some extra work in Tim Burton's remake of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory, wild umpa-lumpas couldn't have kept me away from the outer echelons of Slough. I would certainly have some tales to tell Mr Nat West now. I might even be able to exchange my "When I met Michaela Strachen" anecdote for a "When Johnny Depp asked my advice on how he should play a scene" one, fingers crossed.

Little did I know how far removed from actually being in the film industry being an extra is. Unfortunately the extras themselves don't realize this and vastly overestimate their importance in the art of filmmaking.

Now you would expect this kind of rose tinted optimism from the newbees - those who genuinely believe that Martin Scorsese is going to be watching the rushes of some large crowd scene in his latest magnum opus and be instantly mesmerised by their touching yet quietly menacing performance as "Gang member number seven hundred and fifteen". Immediately in their heads a Cinderella scenario will ensue. Embittered assistant directors are sent into the extra's pen to retrieve the "next Robert De'Niro" and rescue him from a lifetime of obscurity as "Man with laceration" in the waiting room of Holby City hospital. Just in case you are thinking of chucking in your day job - this is about as statistically possible as Vatican City winning the World Cup.

You can even understand the wide-eyed innocence of the "Hello Mums". Those who couldn't give a stuff about "acting as a craft" but who just want to be the ones standing right in front of the camera at all times with an inane grin on their face so that come the film's eventual release and showing down the local multiplex all their friends will recognise them. But there is no excuse for the "old hands" still living this lie. They who have made more onscreen appearances than Colin Farrell and Roddy McDowell combined should know that extras are the film world equivalent of the homo erectus, just about trusted with walking on two legs in one direction but anything more challenging than that, which requires a modicum of intelligence like say reacting, is left to something higher up the evolutionary ladder - like algae.

Added to that everyone else on set treats you with barely concealed contempt. The runners, who see babysitting you as tantamount to sheep herding, despise you and the director would replace you in a heartbeat with CGI if he hadn't blown all his budget on enough fake snow to cover an area the size of Australia. In short being a background actor is the film career equivalent of late night petrol station attendant but without the added benefit of all the free confectionery.

If I had any illusions that Tim Burton would notice my innate screen presence and give me a part more worthy of my talents these were quickly beaten out of me the first day. Arriving at Pinewood about as bright eyed and bushy tailed it is possible to be at 5 in the morning I was still full of the joys of filming. "I wonder what my costume will be like" I mused and "Do you think I'll have any close-ups today" I asked my fellow support artiste and mother as we stood in line for breakfast. She just smiled at me in the pitying way that she first used when I told her if that I was going to be the first woman in space, patted my arm gently and told me to fill my bag with bread rolls because we were unlikely to be fed again before midday.

My naïve excitement was further fuelled by breakfast - it was truly a meal fit for the stars, three different kinds of bread, meat and vegetarian sausages, two types of tomato, beans, egg (a choice of scrambled or fried) and bacon. Surely Warner Brothers would not be giving us this gargantuan a feed unless they intended to test our acting limits, breakthrough our dramatic boundaries and challenge our performing perspectives in a way we had only hitherto dreamed of.

Nine hours later we had filmed one ten second shot which comprised of us standing outside the chocolate factory ankle deep in fake snow watching the lucky golden ticket winners enter. I say watching, after half an hour of practicing my "interested and excited to be witnessing a moment of history yet somewhat envious of the children about to embark on an adventure of a lifetime" peer, I realised that this shot was from behind and Tim Burton was unlikely to be looking through the lens and be blown away by the screen presence of the back of my head. Not only that but it appeared that Mr Burton viewed his extras as little more than scenery. He certainly didn't want us behaving like a normal crowd would on this kind of occasion, i.e. talking, reacting, or in fact moving in any way.

It was as if a busload of catatonics had been let out for the day and had congregated outside the factory by chance. Indeed there seemed little need for the lucky few who had been chosen to be policemen to be standing with linked arms as if preparing for rush by the crowd, we were barely conscious and rushing would have only been possible with some kind of breakthrough in medical science. And then that was it day one was over. Ten hours of work amounting to little more than five seconds of screen time starring the back of my motionless head. My mum would be proud if she wasn't busily munching her way through the three out of date tuna sandwiches that she had purloined from the catering hut. And who says film work isn't glamorous.

Next installment - The photo opportunity, promotion and my first glimpse of Willy.

A Day in the Panto of Spliffy and Tokey

Arabella Butler gives us her experiences of panto work! Key: SP-Spliffy TK-Tokey

05.00: Stupid o' clock. Wake up to dulcet tones of the Villain with the usual morning greeting: "Morning sluggers/jobseekers/ f*****s" Delete as according to mood of the Villain.

05.30: Get ready to leave. 05.35: Finally get back door open and pile into van. SP: Get out of van for defrosting session TK: Look at map and decide route. No prizes for guessing it will involve the M1 & M62

07.25 Arrive at specified road. Search in vain for a school that isn't there. Phone school only to learn that there are two roads with exactly the same name in two separate towns 20 miles apart. We have been miraculously directed to the wrong one. Seach in vain for map we now need.

07.55 Arrive at school with directions from helpful natives. As the set is unloaded SP&TK chuckle about the irony of being at school so early as part of their jobs.

09.00 Start show. 09.05 SP First entrance "Hello boys and girls" "Hello gorgeous!" why some of them replied with "Hello ugly!" is a mystery. Don't they know that big black eyebrows and lashes with curly orange hair and an apron are all the rage at the moment?

09.15 SP: Exit stage left. Check with TK that we are still doing the same panto as yesterday. Am confused as Principal Boy (PB) seems to be doing a different one. TK: find Principal Girl (PG) checking her hair and make-up are still perfect place, like 30 seconds ago. First entrance.

09.23 SP: Panic as realise PG not in cow costume as still stuck to mirror. Improvise with cow's head on end of broom appearing over top of backdrop. TK: manage to look right way so as not to see cow's head too early (d'oh!)

09.30 Frantic backstage activity as the news spreads that the company bosses are in to watch the show and hopefully give us our Christmas hamper (slurp!). Quickly re-insert all the dodgy material we've cunningly left out from day one.

11.00 SP: First show over it's time to peel off heavily damp costumes. Start plotting ways of marketing bottled perspiration - we'd be loaded! Scrub off suspiciously indelible make-up and strike the set ready to pile back in the van and start all over again.

12.00 TK: realise that the next show must only be 1 hour including a 10 minute interval. Spend a happy half hour going through the script with a fat red pen to cut our 2 hour show in half. Well since when did panto need plot development anyway?

13.30 Arrive at social club with no time to spare and even less space to perform in. Erect a minimal set in record time and squeeze companionably into the 6x4ft dressing room. SP: Wave hello to the now familiar faces of previous performers adorning the walls. TK: Read and chuckle at the graffiti. Apparently we're about to perform in a place "lower than hell". Nice.

14.15 TK: Forced to rescue child attempting to pull a 1000 watt light complete with stand on its head. 14.20 TK: Extricate child from stage left. Inform audience that children are not required to climb on the stage (or the actors) as part of this show.

14.30 Interval. SP: Throat sore from effort of trying to be heard over pub-racket of adults at the back. Concoct plan.

14.33 TK: Make an announcement with the help of the children watching asking their parents to keep the noise level down during the show as they can't hear it. Plan fails. TK: Quick discussion backstage decides Plan B. With a bit of lip-reading we can get to the end of the show just by mouthing the words. Take a gamble that no one will notice the difference. They don't.

15.05 SP: Onto the final number. We all dance valiantly shimmying around pop bottles and various other missiles the children seem to believe it is customary to throw until finally we're free to make tracks for home.

15.20 SP: Look on with green eyes as TK is jostled by a gaggle of adolescent girls telling him that their mate fancies him or more forwardly asking to marry him. Apparently big lipstick red cheeks dotted with black eyeliner freckles do it for the girls. Take note boys!

18.00 SP&TK: Home at last. Creak faces back into normal expressions after a day of unnecessarily gormless grinning. Once again dinner fails to make itself. Fail. Order pizza.

19.00 Pint. Pint. Spliffy. Shower. Tokey. TV. Bed. Drift off to sleep with memories of the Carlton. As the muscles ache and the bruises throb we remember what it's like to be back in the South, in the Studio with our friends.

Kitchen Kapers with Kath

In the first of the Chronicle's new Kookery - sorry - Cookery Course, I'm happy to present a delicious recipe for...

Lemon Posset

A bride of only a few weeks described this pud sometime ago as an *** [censored - Ed.] on a plate! That rather surprised me as I always believed her to be chaste and unsullied! So if you want a little action, have a go with this:

And while we're doing recipes, here's a faithful standby of your editor, Matthew Petty

Tuna Rice Effort

If anyone has a recipe they'd like to share, send it to me (Kathie) care of the CC

Dispatches from the Carlton Colonies

Because the Carlton attracts people from all walks of life, and from all careers, sometimes their lives or careers take them far away to distant lands. Yemen, Athens, New Zealand, Stroud, Los Angeles, the list the goes on. But despite the distance, for most of these 'ex-pats', there will always be a corner of their hearts devoted to the Carlton. Here's some news from a couple of them.

Being here for the Olympics and the Paralympics was fantastic! I was lucky enough to be in the stadium when Kelly Holmes got her first gold medal and met Colin Jackson in the middle of Plakka!

Netty came out to visit a few weeks ago and we explored Greece including Olympia - a nice thing to do during the year of the Olympics. At the moment I'm training for the Athens Classic Marathon. Be thinking of me on Sunday 7 November when you all wake up and I will - hopefully - be at least half way through!

On the drama front? Went to see Lysistrata in the ancient theatre at Epidauras - it was in Greek but the music and comedy made it worth watching even for someone who's got a long way to go before she's fluent in the language. I was back for the Carlton Production of Alfie which I thought was great. Why is everyone so talented - please will the Carlton at least let me stack chairs or something when I'm back in the UK?

Involvement in drama? I'm organising the pantomime for the Embassy Christmas party. This year it's Robin Hood. Greatest achievement? For the third consecutive year I've managed to find a bloke in the embassy who is willing to put on a dress and makeup!

UPDATE! Just to let you know that I finished the Marathon today. It took me 5 hours 23 minutes and 56 seconds - according to the Marathon website.

I checked the BBC website to see that Paula Radcliffe came first in the New York Marathon - I am glad for her. I can afford to be gracious as my time for the Athens Marathon is better than her time for the Athens Marathon. (Okay let's not discuss the fact that she ran it in August when temperatures were really high!)

I am sitting here wearing the medal they give you for completing the Marathon and probably won't be removing it from my neck for at least a week! Meanwhile have aching legs and dread to think what they will be like tomorrow!

Greetings from the City of Angels, my friends. Well autumn is well and truly here. After 181 days without rain - yes, I said 181 - we have now had the wettest October in 50 years. This place is nothing but a little odd! And what, I hear you ask, makes it the wettest October in 50 years? Well, it rained for about 5 days...that's it, my little sodden English chums. 5 days!! It's actually very comforting in a very English kind of a way.

As for me, I have finally found a group of people to hang out with on a regular basis. No, Carl, not the local YMCA - I have joined a choir. We are the Angel City Chorale (link to website) and we are a mixed voice choir about 120 members strong. We perform a whole range of styles from gospel, jazz, folk, chorale, you name it. Plus I recently auditioned for a smaller chamber group that will sing a couple of songs at the concert in December and got into that group too. If any of you would like to plan a trip out here for the concert it is on December 4th and 5th - free accommodation with me and Nicole!

As for the future, my current work contract expires in July, but that is going to be extended, potentially indefinitely, depending on the legality of my visa. I am resisting the urge to grow my beard and change me name to Charles Islam just in case they don't let me travel anywhere.

I cannot leave you, however, without at least a brief mention of a rather important event that has recently happened. It is weird to think that as I write this now on 28th October, I don't yet know who the next US President will be. But reading this on 18th November or thereabouts, we now all do. If you're sick of it, or sick at the thought of it, just go to www.jibjab.com and have a damn good laugh!!

We were last heard of in the wilds of Vladivostok. The trip back to central Russian and Ulan Ude was not as bad as the one going across - the sun was out and it was all very pretty. We had one compartment-mate - a young sailor from the Pacific fleet on his way to Omsk for leave - only 4 days or so each way!

Ulan Ude was not that interesting, but it had a big head of Lenin - likened in our guidebook to the Wizard out of the Wizard of Oz, and not far from it! And a T34 tank - the tank that won WWII according to Russell (thereby meaning that the Russians won the European bit not the Americans).

Next stop Mongolia. We arrived in Ulan Bator way too early in the morning, to be greeted with a smiling face holding a placard with our name on it. The consensus of others who have done a similar Trans-Mongolian trip to us is that anyone who goes west will be sorely disappointed when they get to Russia - they are such a generally dour people. Mongolians are not. They like to smile!

After our collection, we were whisked straight out of UB to Karakarom, a few hundred miles west. We staying in a ger camp which is a traditional Mongolian felt tent. They're really good especially when the fire is roaring - you can take off all your clothes and forget it's snowing outside. The downside of gers is the loo is usually a long way away, but Russell's Soviet Artillery greatcoat came in very handy for a quick dash outside.

Mongolia was a lovely change after Russia - great scenery and lovely people. Get out into the countryside and have a look around. It looked like spring would be a wonderful time to visit - lots of water and everything green and lush. And Russell even rode a horse (have the photos to prove it) - not for long but for long enough! Our guide, Andy (his English name), had spent childhood summers with his nomadic grandparents so took us to a nomad's camp where we tried some of their specialities (Sarah tentatively, Russell like there was no more food to be had!).

The food wasn't as bad as predicted - we got some veggies! We got lots of the local specialties because they hadn't really been expecting us and so didn't have the more westernized diet to hand. Boiled mutton is quite nice and they did their version of a hangi where they put hot rocks in a large tin and roasted the meat that way - very nice, although our driver insisted on sitting on the hot rocks after - good for your chi or something.

The Chinese don't get annual leave but have certain weeks of the year off. And they all go on holiday. And it seemed like all of them were in Beijing at the Forbidden City!

Then we to the Great Wall at Simitai. We did the lazy thing and took the cable car up about two thirds of the way, then a little train, and finally walked to the Eighth Watchtower. That bit was enough to do me in. Going up to the Nineth, Russell decided that it was all way too high. However, now he was up, he was going to have to go down. There are two choices of ways to get back to the carpark - walk or take a flying fox over the reservoir. Was that fun! But the Wall is impressive. It personifies paranoia - no sane person would want to invade China over those hills!

Back in Beijing we failed in our trip's mission - the dead embalmed Communist leaders. Mao was shut. He has to have a day off now and then I suppose, but it was bad timing on our parts! And what's worse is Uncle Ho, our next stop in Vietnam, is believed to be on holiday in Russia, getting a touch up!

On from Beijing we took a hard sleeper (three bunks on each side, no compartment) to Xi'an. I made friends with "Mary" and "Betty" - a very precocious Chinese 11yo and friend. They tried to teach me some Chinese (and failed) and took me to visit the Germans they had already met. Not an early night!

Xi'an is the home of the famous Terracotta Warriors. They are very impressive, their faces are all different, although we're not entirely sure how many are still with their original bodies! A lot of sticking back together has been done. But they are 2200 years old! They haven't yet dug up the responsible King's tomb - worried it might be booby-trapped!

From Xi'an we went to Wuhan with a view to going up the Yangtze. We took a package trip from further up river north of Yichang - above the Three Gorges River Dam. The first morning on the boat at 7am, we thought we were getting up for breakfast, but it turned out we were taking a trip up the Shennong River to see it's gorges and be entertained by the locals. We took no jumpers, umbrellas or even my camera. Luckily a lovely purple raincoat could be purchased on board the boat, so I stayed warmish and dry and gave the locals something else to look at!

The highlight of the Yangtze is the Three Gorges. The first we slept through. The second we thought oh we're going through it, doesn't look like much. And the third we went out on deck for. The most interesting bit were the towns that had been moved or had built huge fortifications against the ever-rising water. One temple we visited is going to have a wall built around it and become an island. Another is having a wall built in front of it. The town that once was in front of it has been rebuilt on the other side of the river on higher ground. The old town is slowly being bulldozed, but you can still buy film, food and t-shirts there!

Guilin/Yangshuo are on the Li River and home to what I call "rocks that come straight out of the ground" - like what you see on Chinese paintings - they are amazing. The food was great, although the Chinese really can't do Mexican - we switched back to Chinese after that.

Eventually at our destination town, we managed to find someone to take us downriver, about half the way back to Yangshuo. We went on a bamboo raft - eleven huge pieces of bamboo, bent at each end with a metal rod and some ties keeping it together. A small platform on the top had a small bench. It was a very peaceful way to travel - seeing the hills and watching the tour boats that had gone downriver that morning go back upriver. The downside was that as we'd started late, we didn't quite make it to our destination. Fortunately for us, we'd read that you can walk from our starting point to our finishing point, so we knew that if we kept walking we'd find where we were going. It took an hour through lovely countryside and we made it to Xingping in time for the last bus to Yangshuo.

Thank you Sarah, a very informative travelogue - I'm sorry I had to cut so much! Thanks all of you. If anyone else wants to tell us of their travels, send your piece to the editor.

My Bizarre Double Life

by Ray D. O'Luxemburg

Long-standing Carlton members will recall Mike Tierney - moustachioed - at the Colour House playing a character in 'Fur Coat and no Knickers' who was forever singing the praises of Hitler. My seasoned contact tells me his stock solution to the neighbour whose dog had fouled the footpath as well as the Asian medical student sweeping the factory floor -and most situations - was "I'd do what Hitler did - burn them". There's no smoke without fire, as you will learn.

When Mike left school in 1981 he landed a post as a 'junior research assistant' to a professor at Bristol University. This turned out to be a fancy name for a tea-maker and errand boy. The nearest he got to academic research was filing record cards in the library. The professor was the tweed jacketed archetype, always puffing on his pipe and telling stories of his childhood at public school. He occupied a large study where he wrote books on lost works of art and theorised as to their fate. Once, Mike arrived early (first and last time, eh Mike!) and saw the Professor unlock and enter one of the many rooms off the corridor. The Prof entered his study later as if he had just come in off the street but had a very strange manner about him for half an hour or so: he looked to be in a state of serene ecstasy; quivered and blinked a lot; and when he spoke there was something about his voice, something which Mike couldn't quite put his finger on but it didn't sound right. This left young Mike intrigued and he began to watch the Professor closely from then on. The trips to the locked room turned out to be a regular thing. Peering through the keyhole and dangling a mirror from the window above revealed nothing to Mike. The Professor carried the only key in his pocket and security had no record of who was responsible for the room. The weeks went by and Mike's curiosity grew. One sweltering June day while the Prof was invigilating an exam Mike was working alone in the study when he noticed the Professor had - uncharacteristically - left his jacket on the back of his chair. Mike shook the jacket and the keys jingled. Ask not for whom the bell tolls - it tolls for thee.

Trembling, he couldn't turn the key. Then footsteps, voices. He froze. Eventually they passed by the end of the corridor and were gone. The room smelled musty, there was a battered armchair, a bottle of schnapps with a single glass and an overflowing ashtray; there were tea chests with straw sticking out of them; bundles wrapped in newspaper and against one wall something very, very large, covered in a tarpaulin. Mike pulled the corner back to reveal a painting, then another and another. There were dozens of paintings of different ages and styles propped against each other. In the tea chests were urns, statues and ancient carvings. Mike knew the Professor should be in the exam for two hours so he should be fine. As he continued to rummage he noticed a wall of packing cases that reached almost to the ceiling. A careful tug here and there revealed a 'room' behind this crude partition. When he turned the light on he could see it was stuffed full of German World War II paraphernalia. A 78 r.p.m. record of 'Deutschland Deutschland Uber Alles' was on the 'Gramofon'; The upside-down eagle looked down from one giant flag, the swastika from another; a framed photograph of Hitler (which would later seal the Professor's fate), smiling and surrounded by several other men; there were books and letters in German; guns and bullets. But what really caught Mike's eye was the mannequin in full SS regalia - riding breeches, shiny jack boots; tunic bearing the Iron Cross; leather cap and full-length leather coat; under the left epaulette a pair of leather gloves seemed to be waiting to slap an unfortunate prisoner of war across the face. As he continued his panicky hunt for nothing in particular, Mike opened a wardrobe that was stuffed with military uniforms spanning many ranks of the German military hierarchy. It was love at first sight.

In a trice Mike was goose-stepping the length and breadth of the room in the ill-fitting uniform of a Kommandant, cracking a riding crop against his slender thigh and striking poses before a large mirror. The familiar war films of Boxing Day suddenly meant something new - allegiance in Mike's mind shifted from Steve McQueen, Kenneth More and Donald Sutherland to the 'baddie'. The brutal oberstleutnant; the hauptsturmführer in his immaculate uniform, barking orders with ruthless efficiency; these were to hold a secret magic for Mike from that moment forward. He worked his way through the wardrobe, trying on every uniform and dreaming of himself meeting Hitler in the 1940s. It was so exciting! Mike saw something out of the corner of his eye. The Professor stood there, boiling with rage at the sight of Mike dressed up in one of his uniforms and marching about in his private room. The Professor roared a stream of angry sounding words in German, a language Mike had never heard him speak before. Then he ordered him, in English to put everything back at once and get dressed and he sacked him.

Mike quickly landed a job with BT as a telephone engineer. This turned out to be a fancy name for a tea-maker and errand boy, he tells me. He soon realised that one brief flirtation with his German uniform fantasies would not be enough. At the public library he read books on German militaria. He became an afficionado of the TV series 'Secret Army' and frequently wrote to the producer complaining that an actor's cap badge had been the wrong way round or that a scene could not have been shot in Munich because the shadow cast by the clock tower at that time of day faced the wrong end of Schleissheimerstrasse. He took it all very seriously.

The next step was the politics. When you frequent militaria fairs and clamber into the occasional redundant Panzer tank you will inevitably meet a skinhead or two. You know how it is - he plies you in the beer tent and asks if you have ever had a dream of a world governed by one pure race made up of the best that humanity has to offer. A golden vision of a better future. "My friends and I meet every few weeks - we're called Combat 18 because the first and eighth letters..." The impressionable youth sniffed around the edges of Nazism as a belief but turned his nose up when he realised it had more sinister aims. No. Stamping out Judaism and enslaving people with the 'wrong' genes was not Mike's thing. But those old uniforms - so elegant, so smart.

When 'Secret Army' finished it was quickly followed by a send up - 'Allo Allo'. Mike was infuriated by the cheap way the show trivialised the work of the brave French Resistance and the even worse flaws in costume detail of the Germans than in Secret Army. He was by now becoming an expert on German military uniforms. "If only they would let me play Herr Flick, I would show them how he should dress, walk, speak in an authentic German accent, everything" he used to say to himself.

One day the old Professor was all over the Bristol Evening Post: NAZI WAR CRIMINAL EXPOSED AT UNI. Mike saw on TV the prof being put in the back of a police van. The Simon Wiesenthal Foundation had tracked down yet another evil murderer who thought he had hidden himself untraceably. As the charges became known Mike came forward and spilled the beans about the secret room. The prosecution, having only circumstantial evidence, was rescued by letters and photographs from the room that proved where the Professor had been at crucial times. If the old fool had thrown away his memories he could have got away with it. He died in jail after serving seven years for murder. The paintings and sculptures, it turned out were stolen from Jewish families by the SS during the Holocaust. The Professor had sneaked them into Britain one at a time during the 1960s and '70s. Their value was estimated at £pound;2.25 million. Mike got his picture in the paper shaking hands with the Chief Constable of Avon and Somerset (uniform rather plain, buttons need polishing, trouser crease v.good - entry in personal journal with press cutting 28/8/84).

Jump forward to 1997 when Mike's name first appeared in a Carlton programme. From that day to this he has been dreaming of how he can get the Carlton to put on a production of Mel Brooks' 'The Producers' or at least an excerpt, say 'Springtime for Hitler'. The stumbling blocks have always been taste and cost. Some people alive today remember the war vividly and would be disturbed to see Carlton members singing and dancing on stage in German uniforms. To get a set of matching and periodically accurate ones - which we know Mike would insist upon - would be prohibitively expensive. The Carshalton Costume Hire ladies would be able to deliver little more than British army surplus with swastikas sewn on. Years of hope pass as he waits for a stroke of luck, such as a leading theatrical costumier joining the Carlton so that Mike can dress up as he yearns to.

Opportunity knocks! An email from a film company went round the Carlton seeking extras to be in a war documentary as German soldiers. Mike replied - at the double - and was cast as the hero of the story, a German toff called Count Claus von Stauffenberg who tried to kill Hitler with a bomb. He had to dress up in a German uniform and march about. Again. And they paid him £50 a day, apparently. Mike pinched himself but was already awake. He now believes that by sheer wishpower alone one can make things happen, if not in the exact way envisaged. Well, the glove wearing season is upon us again and Mike wears black leather ones - I saw him take them off when he arrived to be interviewed. I couldn't swear to it but I think he clicked his heels when I shook his hand.

Carlton Dramatic Society Information

CARLTON CALENDAR

Your regular guide to what's up and what's on at the Carlton and elsewhere

Put these dates in your diary NOW. No excuses.

Another month, another format. If there is anything missing from the calendar I do apologise - my clairvoyance is affected by trying to remember lines. You'll have to help me out by emailing me any items you would like to see included.

Two, 2004

Get-in and Technical Rehearsal- Sunday 21 November, New Wimbledon Studio Theatre

Dress Rehearsal- Monday 22 November, New Wimbledon Studio Theatre

Performances - Tuesday 23 to Saturday 27 November, The New Wimbledon Studio Theatre

2005 Workshops Recruitment Drive

Monday 2 December and Thursday 6 December, 19:00, Wimbledon Community Centre Rooms C & D

Christmas Party and Pantomime!

Saturday 11 December 2004, 19:00, Wimbledon Community Centre

2005 Shows

Workshops - 3-4 March 2005, WCC

Gala Performance - 9 April 2005, Venue TBC

Spring Show - May 2005, New Wimbledon Studio Theatre (Date TBC)

Summer Show - Early August 2005, Colourhouse Theatre (Date TBC)

Winter Show - November 2005, New Wimbledon Studio Theatre (Date TBC)

carltonChronicle

'TWO' DUE

TWO

Jim Cartwright

Debbie Fowler

Jeff Graves

Tuesday 23 - Saturday 27 November at the New Wimbledon Studio.

About the Play

Diary Dates:

CARLTON UPDATE

the original sexed-up dossier

IN THIS ISSUE

GENTLE REMINDER

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WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU'RE PLAYING AT?

WHY MISS OUT? COUGH UP, THERE'S A LOVE

2005 SHOWS - DIRECTORS NEEDED

ALL-NEW CYGNETS SENTINEL

CHRONICLE PRIZE FOR CHRONIC JOURNALISM

COMMITTEE CRISIS!!

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IMPROV CLUB A SUCCESS

MARKET RESEARCH RESULTS

Forthcoming Attractions

Christmas Party Panto