No standing still

The past two weeks have been productive and very hard work for Stu and Kasete, his oppo and our deputy house manager but they have done very well. They nor any of the contractors working on site probably need me prowling around scrutinising every screw, line, cut and joint but they have been tolerant (although on-the- hoof decisions tend to get made when they are needed). This whole process of change has been a cycle of solving one issue and creating another but the road might now have straightened out. Yesterday (with Kasete in the Charlie Dimmock role of doing the work and me in the Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen role of mincing about with the aesthetic eye) we spent an hour arranging olive trees in pots around the perimeters of various facilities. That is something we normally do two hours before curtain up on the first night so it has to count as progress. We also made the momentous decision to paint four of the support legs of the mezzanine so that they match the colour of the seating structure they abut. Such things, as I have oft repeated, matter! Henceforth, all is detail and I hope we don't over-egg the pudding.

James is in full-on producer mode dealing with last minute problems of casting and the flicking tail of a volcanic cloud that is slowing the arrival of Europe based singers for the start of music rehearsals on Monday. He could do without it for sure but I think sometimes he couldn't really do without it if you know what I mean? He and the company have always flourished in adversity so the bigger the problems he describes, the more sanguine I tend to get; history tells me that the success of the outcome is directly proportional to the depth of the abyss we have peered into. Is that the mark of a good outfit? I like to think so. The challenges of Pelleas, our opening production, offer the most tantalising results, for example. And with that in mind we sit down soon to finalise the 2012 season.

Back in to it

The visit to Eastbourne was ended with a long (very long) steeply undulating walk along the cliffs from Beachy Head to the old listed lighthouse that had once been jacked up hydraulically and moved fifty feet inland to avoid the advancing cliff erosion. Beachy Head is possibly one of the most strangely poignant places I have been. If the signs for the Samaritans in the car park were not enough to remind you of why some people are drawn to the place, the first person we saw up there was a woman with a high visibility jacket with "Chaplain" written across the back of it. It is also a breathtakingly beautiful place and frighteningly exposed with small wooden crosses and flowers dotted along the craggy, crumbling and unprotected cliff edge. I shall not rush to return. Odd that one of the most glorious spots in the UK (one that on a bright day can uplift and invigorate) should become both a beacon and a shrine to the sad and lost because what makes it inherently beautiful offers certain oblivion should you wish it.

Seaside

Yesterday, the kids and I enjoyed a gorgeously sunny day on the south coast, wandering up and down the promenade and playing the most elaborate game of crazy golf known to man (18 holes, par 58, my score ten under par). It was the great British Day Out that included fish and chips too: today we'll traipse across the cliffs at Beachy Head before making our way back to London. There won't be many more opportunities for such a jaunt until September. The Blackberry didn't stop buzzing of course but it delivered nothing of alarm or disaster so the point of these 48hrs has been preserved more or less intact. I will probably be at the theatre late this afternoon to see progress and where I am led to believe things have gone largely to plan.

I am writing this on the veranda of the seafront hotel as I wait for the kids to get up for breakfast. The coffee roughly approximates what I am used to, the English Channel is reassuringly grey and the pier off to my right looks as flammable as any British pier should. I can't say that I would be happy to spend a whole summer holiday in such a place but the Victorians created towns like this with a splendour that although faded now, still hangs on. Only a couple of hours from London, I have always wondered what a southern European climate would do to places like this. Culturally speaking, the 28 miles of water between here and France seem much greater but perhaps it is worth celebrating the difference?

Minutiae

It would be dreary to lay out the myriad work going on at the theatre site so suffice to say there is a lot of it and it is happening at great pace. There are annoying glitches that take time to remedy (seating structures two inches out of whack etc) and we constantly chase the new works with suddenly appearing issues that need further remedy. Still we are a month ahead of where we would usually be and there is time, when everybody has left site next week, to begin fine tuning. Stu is in the heart of the maelstrom and is coping admirably in his calm stoical way. When I mentioned this to him the other day he said "drowning, not waving" - but then he laughed because I think he saw the fear in my eyes. Then I laughed too - with the fear still in my eyes - and Stu marched off to solve another problem. Indeed, he is a real utility player who I have just remembered is also a trained actor so he can record all the house announcements as well - although the Aussie twang will need to be curtailed!

Things are progressing so well I feel able to take two of my kids to Beachy Head for a couple of days. Given the history and reputation of the place I won't tell Stu where I'm going in case he asks to tag along. Actually, in view of the irritation James is having right now with some casting replacements I'm only glad he is at the other end of the country as well.

Getting interesting

A person should have many interests. That James and I share more than those operatic was demonstrated in the course of a filmed interview we were doing yesterday; mid-flow we broke off in that weird stream of consciousness way to talk about Des Lynam, football and Fulham FC (who neither of us supports but we do have an acquaintance with their manager). If the director of the shoot was perturbed by this he didn't show it and allowed us to find our own way back onto the issue at hand (opera). More about why we were in this situation may become known in due course but it was quite an illuminating moment for all concerned.

By Saturday morning the bulk of the theatre will be complete. Then for the detail. Our PR company are on board, the box office is in full swing and preparations for the first few events of the season are well under way.