'Waiting' at The Cong

Monday August 21st - 'Waiting' at The Cong.

The curators of The Tin Shed Experience and all round good friends, Seimon and Min invited me to perform my storytelling at the Congregational Church at the Laugharne Artists Pop Up Art Exhibition. They had travelled to Llanelli to unsuccessfully support my inaugural performance at The Spoken Word Saturday and over a pint of Italian beer in down town Llanelli I was offered as many performances as I wanted. I deliberated over the offer and then watched as a man strutted down the street, pastie in one hand and a squeezy bottle of Heinz Tomato Ketchup in the other. What the hell!..life's too short....in for a penny!

The following Monday, 2.30p.m. prompt. I was on. Every free pew was taken up as I launched into my story. In the front pew was long time school friend Mark Montinaro, a thespian of repute and an experienced storyteller himself. The word had been put about Laugharne and they filled the church.

A man from Edinburgh, kindly told me that Dylan was alive and well after the performance. I took his kind words humbly but I don't think so. He then explained how he'd flown down from Edinburgh that morning. 'What? To see me?' I said. He scoffed!

I strode off to change and threw my sweaty clothes into my quality Aldi bag and onto another day it was.



Tuesday August 22nd - 'Waiting' at The Cong.

By the second day I had relaxed and taken in some of Mark's critique that had followed yesterday's performance. 2.30 prompt again.

Joey plays the role of Mr Cooper.

One thing I learnt was that I cant just chuck sweaty clothes into a bag and think that they will be dry the next day. I pulled my soaking, smelly undergarments on - the ones that are supposed to throw the sweat out and keep you dry. My naval roll top was also extremely damp. Oh well it was too late to turn back.

The audience, not so large today, still laughed at the appropriate moments. As I went I realised I'd missed a line which helped explain the time slot my story was in. Nevermind got to carry on. I seem to be relaxed and on top of where the story goes ebven though I've missed a bit out. I start ad-libbing: 'they're not dying like they use to,' said the undertaker. I got to the end, generous kind applause but then I remembered I hadn't given them my best joke, 'we all pay'. Oh well they don't know what I was going to say.