There a number of
reasons I'm taking part in this mad little escapade, but they mostly
boil down to one thing: like Will Kemp, I am a Fool.
I say that with a
degree of professional pride. Over the last several years I've been
privileged to train with some incredible practitioners in theatre
clowning – first with the superb Bob Percy, then with masters of
the art Angela De Castro of the Why Not Institute and Avner
Eisenberg.
The clown is a state of
mind which allows us to live joyfully and truthfully in the moment.
It's continued to inform all my work as an actor, performer, director
and teacher (and I now seem to be the go-to Jester for living history
events in Wymondham), so it seemed to make sense that if we were to
follow in Kemp's footsteps, I should probably do the dancing. But I
believe it's also given me a useful toolkit for trying to approach
the difficult times in life.
Which leads me to the
other main reason: My dear Dad. He was diagnosed with Primary
Progressive MS several years ago and as his condition has advanced he
has had to work hard to adapt to his changing capability and need for
support, which he's done with a stoicism and humility which makes me
often a little teary-eyed. In his day he and my Mum were also members
of the local Morris sides, and my some of my earliest childhood
memories are of early morning Mayday dances, so in a way this is also
a tribute to that.
When Andy and I first
dreamt up this absurd idea on an idle, drunken afternoon at the Adam
and Eve, the idea was not just to raise some cash, but to do
something that reflected the daily struggle and effort that so many
have to face just to get on with day-to-day life, whether that be due
to disability, chronic illness or mental health. Skydiving looks fun,
but beyond the sheer terror of jumping out of a plane, it doesn't
seem to ask a lot of you.
So, like a fool, I'll
dance.
Most of the way.
