"I must remember to tell Eichmann you're eating Viennese Jewish authors."

!

Surely you mean "reading," Steve?

This is what happens when you see the same play night after night your mind starts playing tricks on you. I had to go in early tonight to change a lamp in an instrument, which was fun. Nothing like standing on the ricketiest ladder in London while flakes of glass sprinkle down into your eyes. Last night we had major problems with the lights, prompting one actor to come up to me after the show and ask what was up. When I told him the bulb (layman's terms) needed changing, he patted my hand comfortingly and said "But, surely, that's technically not your job?" Bless. And neither is buying props, building the set or replacing costume pieces. Yet, for some reason...

This is why I like David so much: because he takes care of his own costumes. Not only does he polish his boots, iron and replace buttons, he even does it when my dressers or I have offered to do it for him, causing me on more than one occasion to stop in my tracks and quite openly stare at the anomaly. ("Are you polishing your boots?!" "Yeah, well, I figured the Doctor would have a prisoner to do it for him, but since this is fringe...") I would say nice things about him, even if he didn't read my blog. It's such a novelty having an actor who looks after their own bits that I'm not quite sure what to make of it. This just goes to support the theory I'm going to build my company on: actors and techies working together in harmony to make a good show. Actors aren't stupid--they understand how and why things work, and there's no reason why they can't be a part of the process.

If, however, they insist on saying stupid things like "can you bring up the lights when I'm standing by the chair?" when the blackout is so total that I can't even see the chair, I will say "No."

And if they insist, I'll call upon a Higher Power than myself.

"The director said to bring the lights up at the end of the sound cue, and that's where it's staying."