I am in France. I am not writing this from France because I am still in Scotland but I will be in France by the time this post goes up. There’s a thought. Way back in March when it was first suggested to me that I go and train in France it seemed like such a far off French fancy that I was quite happy to gobble it up, icing, fondant, sponge and all. Now that I am dashing about the day before I am swinging between a state of total terror and a calm kind of procrastination denial which is allowing me to write this post when I should be packing.
Why am I going to France exactly? I am not really sure. Initially I was getting advice from someone on the topic of ensemble theatre for a presentation I had to make. He suggested it and I in turn jokingly told my husband I was going and he shrugged his shoulders and said why not. Why not indeed.
Well how’s about this for starters. It’s more physical theatre. Did I not learn my lesson the last time? Being the only non-dancer in a room full of professionals is not a pretty place to be. It’s awkward veering towards humiliating although there is no denying it makes you learn the hard way. Then there’s the health issue. I’m not fit right now, I haven’t been for some time. I do some yoga every day and that is about as much as my body lets me do at the moment, will I cope with the training? Then there’s my age, am I not just getting a bit too old for all this mucking around? Possibly. Add to this the fact that I speak no French, have never been abroad alone and should probably just be at home doing the school run and the whole thing just seems like some kind of insanity. But here we are, it’s all booked now, no going back.
I hope it will be worth it. I hope it feeds my creativity. I hope it brings me joy. I hope it changes me in a good way. What else can we do but hope that all this is possible? I suppose we could pack…..there’s always that.