Sunday 27 September 2015

Batley, you ain't 'alf beautiful

It took us eight hours (and a lot of emergency lunging) to get two pregnant (and one very patient) Story Exchangers up to West Yorkshire for our final walkabout outing of the summer. (On the upside we did get through eight episodes of Serial). It felt like the end of an era, as next time we do a gig there will be two mini Story Exchangers causing havoc about the place! But Batley, you beaut, you didn't disappoint. Everyone was SO friendly and up for a bit of fun and we had a lovely day. The weather weren't half bad either!

So here is our Story for Batley, written one word at a time by festival visitors, starting with a pork pie and ending up with a flying pig. It might have had something to do with the nearby pulled pork stand....




A STORY FOR BATLEY

Exciting, beautiful Amy was very nervous, swimming and eating a Pork Pie! She courageously bit into a wasp, which was crunchy. Spiderman Ahmed was flying high towards the sky. He saw Amy jumping onto a skyscraper and clapped. Amy smiled evilly as she jumped through the hole and fell, then died and woke up in a different family in China, and fell asleep.

Morning began and she went to see the Sausage Hills in Disneyland, they were really crackers! After a dinner party, bizarre things happened. The characters started to do a play and dance, drumming frantically and jumping!!

Singing cat jumped out of the door and got scared by a scarecrow. Unfortunately a scorpion scuttled through the distance. but Mozart played music and it calmed everybody down. 

The pig has fleas and he is going to scratch them all out. They flew away to call bigger friends... who were mean friends. All of a sudden the pig at the flies. He ate so many flies he started to fly, so then he remembered a girl called Amy and knew she went to China. So then the pig went to China to find her.

To be continued.............




Friday 11 September 2015

From the Wild West to the deep forest...in search of The Lost Tales of Gloucestershire


Sometimes I find myself in a situation where I have to pause and remind myself that what I'm doing is work. That this is genuinely my JOB. (Don't worry though, I balance it out by often going through the same thought process with my head in hands asking 'Why? WHY?'). The former happened a good few times during our research trip to Gloucestershire. Two days visiting three communities and a few beautiful spots in between.

This is not the Beast of Gloucestershire


I knew precious little about this county at this time last week. I'm sure that even now, buried beneath reams of paperwork and books and photos, we have only scratched the surface of this place. Chloe and I knew what I had managed to find on the internet and we set off armed with a few questions- 'Have you ever seen the Beast of Gloucesterhsire?', 'What makes this county unique?' and 'Who Killed the Bears?'. There was a 'no' in response to the first question (much to Chloe's disappointment), a massive variety of glorious reasons for the second, and an absolutely fascinating silence met the third. More on that later.

Our first stop was the leafy-laned village of Clifford's Mesne, where we were welcomed ever so warmly into a bright village hall across the way from the art installation phone box and the beautifully painted bus stop (the work of Veronica Gosling I'm told). We only had a couple of hours here, but there wasn't a moments silence. I sat and furiously scribbled while the gathering of local people told stories, shared cake and laughed (a lot). This was a very happy village, and we left with one particular gem of a story that we are hoping to slot into the beginning of the new show, along with lots of useful snippets to weave into the fabric of the narrative.

Onwards then to The Pludds, a marvellously named and charming village in the heart of the Forest of Dean. Here, alongside a proper dinner and apple crumble, we learnt how forest folk set themselves apart from the rest of Gloucestershire, cut off as they are by the Rivers Wye and Severn that form boundaries at either edge. One particular motto stuck in my mind which a local shared with us, which is 'If you want to find a fool in the forest, you had better bring him with you'. We met about ten lovely people in their lovely village hall, all self confessed straight-talking folk who pride themselves on having capable hands and long memories, who have never gone hungry even during the war because of the strong spirit of the foresters. It felt very different here- no less welcoming by any means, but we were struck by the change in landscape and way of life that can occur over such short distances.

It was here at The Pludds that we asked 'Who Killed the Bears?'. This is one of Gloucestershire's most enduring legends, and as I mentioned we knew a little. There had been a number of warnings that I'd found not to ask the question, as, according to a few websites, it remains a sore subject. Naively, I thought that couldn't possibly be true. Now I know a little better. It is a true testament to the power of story and rumour that this tale, now well over a hundred years old, can still stir up such feeling in the people of the villages surrounding Ruardean. We were fascinated by this, and although we know that this is a powerful tale, we are eager to find a way to tell it truthfully in the show. I feel genuinely nervous about this, which oddly seems to tell me that it's the right one to tell. As we say in The Lost Tales, "all stories are important, even the ones that are hardest to tell". Fingers crossed we find a way.....


We stayed the night in Painswick, which again felt a million miles from both of the other places we had visited. This seemed to us to be Gloucestershire at it's most manicured, all mellow golden stone and clipped hedges, very different to the deep wooded valleys of the forest. And then it was on to our final village visit, a few miles along the Golden Valley to France Lynch. I have never been anywhere quite like France Lynch (and Chalford/Chalford Hill as all three villages nestle close together). I have certainly never DRIVEN anywhere like France Lynch. It is made up of a breathtaking winding maze of walled lanes, which we later found out used to be donkey tracks. This made a lot of sense, and helped me to understand how much bigger my car is than a donkey. Reversing down through the village when we met a bin lorry genuinely nearly finished me off.

But we survived and I didn't hit anything and, again, we were met by a wonderful group of interested and interesting people from the village who had gathered a wonderful pile of books and leaflets for us. We gained such a good sense of the life of this lively village from them, so generous were they with their stories and anecdotes and once more, the conversation darted about the table so much that I'm sure I missed some gems! But we have certainly left with a story that we feel can be expanded and slotted into the show, and plenty of things unique to the village that I can't wait to craft into a daily report. After an explore and some lunch at The King's Arms we wound our way down 'Dark Lane' (never again) and as I pondered how steep a hill needs to be before a car would completely flip over, our trip came to a close.

Now begins the harder task, the sifting and editing. How do you choose one story, so generously told over another? What makes one village quirk more interesting than the next? How do you tell the stories that are never told in a way that returns the ownership to the village? If I ever find the answers, I shall be sure to let you know.

Monday 10 August 2015

Ooop north in Stoke on Trent


STOKE SOUTH CARNIVAL, you were amazing. Such a beautiful day, surrounded by beautiful people. And such imaginations too...

Here is your very own 'Story for Stoke', written one beautiful word at a time by festival goers. It's got the best ending I think we've ever had....


Once upon a time a dog jumped over the wall and sniffed out a bone. Licking the lolly, he saw a bacon and cheese oatcake and screamed loudly, "FOOD!". Then Rhys ate it, "YUM!"

Sadly the dog cried, then pooped in the air and it landed on Rhys's head! Lydia said, "I want shampoo and jammy dodgers, I want to jump so high!". "What happened?" Rhys cried, "Heck, what do I do? I don't know, maybe I'll go to the park/pub".

Elsewhere, an atom bomb boomed, crackled within the ship called 'Puffin' and the captain said, "Aye up, duck, we're broken!" and they drowned. The suddenly, BANG! Another stuck ship appeared over the gloomy sea. It couldn't move because they were deeply in snow. They got some snow shoes, in pink. "We''l escape! To the Island, the lighthouse is just there". Then they fell in the snow... DUN DUN DUUUUUUNNNN!

Somebody dug a big hole and jumped in and saved the Gruffalo. The the monster ate the robot. 

Happiness descends over the Mummy in Egypt. "Hello", said Kenzi, said Joseph, "No idea, Dad!"

Eventually, sense prevailed and someone brewed tea.


THE END