Moments of Transition (Year)

February

Today's the first, and this morning I was woken by a nightmare in which Joseph Goebbels was a teacher at my school. It was terrifying. He kept putting me in detention because I have brown hair and brown eyes and chose to learn French instead of Spanish. I can't remember what happened in those detentions, but it wasn't nice. None of the other teachers changed their behaviour, but they treated the methods of Mr. Goebbels as perfectly normal. And there were horrible rumours going around about Mr. Goebbels too, but you could never be sure if they were true or not, because everyone was afraid. When I woke up this morning I was terrified that I'd go into school thinking everything was normal until I had Mr. Goebbels first thing, so I said to myself 'OK Eleanor, let's sort out if Goebbels actually teaches you or not.' I promptly fell asleep and was woken again by my mother.

What does it mean when you dream of a Nazi?

********

September

I'm about to open an envelope. This envelope contains my Junior Certificate results. Everyone else has crowded around each other outside, it's a lovely day, but I ran off behind a wall. This is private, it's mine. For now, at least.

I try to take care as much as I can with the seal. I thought it would be an A4 sheet, not something this small. But where did I get that idea?

And the very first result listed -

English. D.

Ah, shit.

I knew on the day that I wasn't going to get a great result. I completely lost my head, but it's a matter of pride still. It's the first D I've ever gotten for English, because even with poetry, which I'm shit at, I can usually articulate something. I've still passed, but...

I've never really liked 'school English', whatever that is, but I only realised then how much I had let it become a label. Eleanor's Good At English. Which means she's one of the Creative Ones, which must mean she's bad at Maths, because that's how it works, isn't it? If you're creative and good at art/writing, it means you have to be bad at maths or business or science. But I'm not good at English in school. The only thing I can really do is the drama bit, because that's the bit that makes the most sense to me. But that doesn't mean I'm hopeless. Most of the content on my CV is stuff I've written.

Just because I didn't get the mark I had hoped for, but the mark I knew I would get when I finished Paper One, doesn't mean I'm suddenly incompetent. I'm still good at this. I am a semi-competent writer! I got that award, didn't I? That was just one day. Jesus Eleanor, calm down. You've still got ten other results! You haven't looked at them yet!

I scan down the page. There aren't any other Ds. I've got two As, three Cs, and the rest are Bs, including French and History, which I was really worried about. Excellent! Time to join the others and squeal a bit. Lovely.

Although it would be cool to get a C or something for the Leaving. Just to satisfy my own useless pride. And for the points, of course.

********

October

God, I'd forgotten how much swearing was in this play.

My Adult For The Evening, my cousin Eimear, is fidgeting in her seat beside me. She's twenty four, a primary school teacher, and she's my Cool Older Cousin, so I thought she'd be best to bring along to this night-time event in a pub.

But then I remember how I've always been her Baby Cousin Eleanor. And that I'm still only fifteen. And these people in the room, a lot of whom I seem to know quite well, are all older than me, and drinking, and some of them are shifting the face of each other on the projector. And my mother and her mother are waiting for us back home, and they'll want to know everything. And the dancing girl sitting with her friends at the front, the drunk one in the play, is getting a bit louder and a bit louder all the time. And apparently she's my friend.

And I come to appreciate a little bit more how trusting my mother and father must be.

Seems I'd also forgotten how much sex is discussed, and all that business with the condoms and everything.

The drive home is going to be very awkward.

********

March

I have known John Kennedy for one year and two months.

It is a very strange moment when, at Fishamble's Young People's Tiny Plays For Ireland reading, I am introduced to him for the first time. We're both from Kilkenny!

'Actually we do sort of know each other already...'

'Oh really? How?'

And, for some reason, we're standing there nodding and grinning inanely at each other. And I don't know why I'm not saying anything like 'Well, John here wrote a play called Shifting for the Devious Theatre Company back in Kilkenny, and it was completely sold out over it's six night run and received rave reviews, because it really was a brilliant play you know, and it was directed by that man over there in the blue hoodie, John Morton, beside the lady with the long brown wavy hair, no, below that row, and I was assistant director. And that's how we know each other.' That covers it. But we're not saying anything. It's very strange. Why aren't we telling him?

But eventually we say, at the same time, 'We worked on a play together...' Which is also the truth. And it'll do for today, because, and it seems strange, but we don't need Shifting today.

And the well-meaning person who introduced us but whose identity I have forgotten says 'Oh!' and escapes, leaving us to stand nodding and grinning inanely at each other.

********

December

It's the last day of school before the Christmas holidays. Everyone's exchanging cards, and all of a sudden she hands me a wrapped present.

I don't have anything to give her. Just a Christmas card with some song lyrics paraphrased inside, and what good is that if I've done it wrong and she can't understand it? And then she goes and gives me beautiful chocolates.

And they're Lindt chocolates. Everyone loves Lindt chocolates. I'm not the only one who's received them of course, but I can't remember the last time I got a Christmas present from someone that wasn't a relative.

A friend?

********

March

Today is World Book Day, and so a group of us have been entertaining some children in one of the local bookshops. We've dressed up as characters from Where's Wally for the occasion, and it's been loads of fun. Now we're walking down town to get lunch in our madcap gear. (Our madcap gear consists of red/white striped tops, blue jeans, hearts on our faces, and assorted accessories.)

I'm in a group of five and I'm doing my usual conversation thing where I stay on the edge and dodge the kerb and stone benches and listen to the others talk, and one of the girls is fiddling with her super-cute pigtails self-consciously. This girl is one of the kindest, most sincere girls I know, and I don't like seeing her uncomfortable with herself. So I try to tell her to relax.

In my classic, Eleanor Roscuro empathetic fashion.

It doesn't really work, because I haven't mastered empathy and all that stuff, so it's just me telling her that she's fine and she doesn't have to care about what other people think, all that easier said than done stuff, until eventually, a little voice in my head says 'You know what you should try? Paraphrasing that Henry Ford quote that Bill Cullen likes. That'll work!'

'If you think you're ugly or not ugly, you're right.'

'Really? You think that?'

And, oblivious to her body language or the tone in her voice, I do what I always do: concentrate on the words and plough right through.

'Yeah. I do think that.'

Suddenly, we all draw to a stop. There are boys ahead. They've just come out of the nearest boy's school. We go to a girl's school, so we don't know them... We take a breath, brace ourselves, and then carry on, our eyes raking each uniform for a familiar face. There's got to be about fifty, and I don't know any of them. Dammit.

She starts fiddling with her pigtails again, worse than ever, and I tell her to leave it, but she doesn't, and we've stopped talking. This is ridiculous! It's not the Charge of the Light Brigade for God's sake! Yet their attitude is infectious, and I can't help but expect... something.

Eventually our paths meet.

This is what I was wearing that day -

Note - awesome mask. Happy (unaware of camera) face.

I love this mask, and I'm enjoying walking around the street in it. Until it was assumed by a subset of the boys in uniform that since I am wearing a mask, I must be extremely unattractive. Hideous, even.

It could have been so much worse. I know that. But I wasn't expecting it all the same. And it doesn't make me feel good.  I don't know if I was supposed to hear, but it was quite loud, and it doesn't make me feel good. But when I'm older, maybe this will be a part of life. I don't want it to be, but that's not up to me, is it?

And she's still worrying about her pigtails, and she was passed by unscathed, and the one who didn't care was marked down, how's that for irony? And the moment to say something back has passed. And then it dawns on me that I may have called her ugly, in a backwards way. And I feel awful, because I've hurt the feelings of the nicest girl in the year. And I feel awful, because some strangers have hurt my feelings.

And when I tell them half an hour later what they said, when I get sick of the bloody pigtails, no one says anything. We change the subject. When we're older, in college maybe, and it gets worse, we probably won't know how to handle it.

********

February

I'm on a night out!

Well, technically. It could be said. I'm in Kilkenny, at night, and I'm with adults, but nice ones who invited me here, and there is alcohol present, but not in my hand or my gut.

Yeah, I'm on a night out.

I'm upstairs in the Watergate Theatre, at the launch of the new Devious Theatre production. They're going to remake Night of the Living Dead in July. I'd been aware of it since work experience in November, but it only registered tonight. The night is starting to draw to a close. I'm standing beside my older-super-cool friend Alex at the bar. John's leaning over the other side to us, like we're smugglers in one of those taverns three hundred years ago where you'd be sure to find all the criminals singing drinking songs, plotting, and drinking. But instead of planning our next robbery, John is telling us about getting into drama courses, something that seems just as foolhardy and dangerous. Well, it's all for Alex's benefit, she's the one applying this year. I just arrived in the middle of the conversation and quietly slotted myself in. We're both nodding solemnly as John gestures and points his fingers on the bar for emphasis.

The Mid-Term Ball is on Monday. I've no real interest in going - I've had my fill of monster discos since the Junior Cert Results. I've having a great night here. Everyone is so nice. I know most of them already, which is good, and I've even mentioned Gormenghast, and people have listened! And my pretty dress has been admired. That's always good. And there's buns and cake, and they have nice orange juice. And I was invited  and everything!

Apparently they don't look at your Leaving Cert marks in the colleges, not really. Just at what you show them at auditions. Wow.

There's a little voice in the back of my head saying 'It'd be nice to get the points anyway...' and I have a small memory of staring at a page behind a wall. Oh, the Junior Cert English thing. I'd kind of forgotten about that. It isn't such a stab to my pride as it felt like at the time. Hmm. That's good.


********

January

Today is a great day.

I'm in McDonalds on Grafton Street, finishing up my meal with my friends. We've come up to Dublin with the rest of the year to Trinity College. My older-super-cool friend Helena is studying Business and French there, and she was able to point me in the direction of the Drama and Theatre Studies talk that had started as we got off the bus, so after sneaking away from the group (!!!), I made it for the last five minutes. Then I met another older-super-cool friend Ruth who was at the talk and we had a lovely chat. Then I was able to discreetly insert myself into the group, go around the different stands, and then we went for lunch. Now we've got back onto Grafton Street and I'm turning right to go back to Trinity, but the others go left.

'Hey, where are you going?'

'Shopping. We've seen everything there.'

'Oh, okay. I'm going back to Trinity, I'll meet you later so - '

I wasn't expecting them to look that horrified or gasp that loudly. Or to chorus:

'You can't go back there on your own!'

I start to feel a little irritated. Up until last September all I did at school was go around on my own! I'm not desperate for human contact, but I really like their company, and I'm fine going around Trinity on my own. It's fun, and I'm meeting so many people I know, and I could look at the things I find interesting while they do their shopping. It's just thirty seconds up the street. I don't see what's wrong.

'No, really, I'm fine - '

'No, you can't go back there on your own... You can come with us if you like!'

'But... I don't know when I'll get there again, and I've been to Grafton Street before, and I'll be seeing it again at some stage. It's just up the street... I can look after myself!'

I know I shouldn't have said that as soon as it's out of my mouth. I've done it again. I don't know whether to turn and leave, or listen to what they've got to say next. Whilst I'm deciding, one of the group steps forward, not one I'm particularly friendly with. She sighs.

'Lads, it's alright, I'll go back with her...'

NO!

Because I don't want to be 'her', someone that has to be babied and minded, someone that's always getting in the way of everyone's fun! And I'm not, and I wouldn't be, if only they would let me go! But what am I supposed to say? I don't know what to say. I'm stuck now. The others don't look happy about the prospect either, and we all say:

'No, you don't have to, it's fine!'

But she's coming with me now. The other girls look as downcast as I feel. 'Well, if you're sure... We'll see you later so.' And they turn and walk off. We walk silently back to Trinity.

I feel bad about giving her the slip when we get there, but I do it anyway.

********

April

'Anna, why don't we ever do anything Irish?'

We've just filled out our evaluation forms about the last Kilkenny Youth Theatre year. This was something that had occurred to me when I was remarking on how I enjoyed the fact that with Gormenghast, we weren't confused by British slang or place names that we knew nothing about. Instead, we referenced places like the Hall of the Bright Carvings, or the Tower of Flints. Most of the youth theatre plays we read are by British playwrights.

'You mean a play?'

She goes on to explain that:

1. She really would like to do something Irish, but:
2. There are very few Irish plays written for a teenage production.
3. Those that do exist either don't have an ensemble cast or a cast large enough to accommodate sixteen-ish people, or are not very good. Or both.

Which is a shame, because I had been hoping for some to read, but I know Anna spent most of her career working with children and teenagers in theatre, and would know best out of all the people I could ask. I've been reading some of the British ones in the school library whenever there are no seats for me in the canteen, and there are some I love, and some I hate. But I'm Irish. I want to see something Irish.

It just makes me more determined. (Determined to do what? says the stupid voice.)

********

May

It's the last day of Transition Year. It's glorious outside, so we're sitting outside in the grass. We're making daisy chains, and writing on each other, and eating, and chatting lazily.

This is the day I have been waiting for all winter, all spring. It's brilliant. It's heaven.

********

November

I've come to a sudden stop outside the Butler Gallery. There are tourists, couples walking around the park. One passes me, and we smile. The weather's beautiful for a November morning, warm, with a soft breeze, the sort of day I like. And you wouldn't expect to find these many people in the park today, but they're here.

Today is the first day of my work experience with the Watergate Theatre and everyone's been so nice and I've got leaflets of a ballet, Scherezade, to drop into local businesses around Kilkenny and I've been doing that and last week I did work experience with Devious Theatre which was wonderful and I'm so lucky to have gotten what I wanted.

Today is my sixteenth birthday and the weather is beautiful and I'm not in school I'm on my work experience and I know that this year, this year is going to be brilliant.

********

Tiny Thoughts For A Big Week

So there’s this theatre company in Dublin called Fishamble that a lot of people like because they’re quite cool (this sounds familiar to my ears) they like to nurture new writing that's their thing and last autumn with The Irish Times they launched a competition called Tiny Plays For Ireland asking people from all over Ireland of any age to submit Tiny Plays (literally tiny, with a 600 word limit) with the best being performed in March so then I was all ‘Maybe I should try that’ and so I did back in November and I got some help from some very nice people and then I twiddled my thumbs until the Tiny Plays winners were announced and I said to myself ‘Well I’ve got two Tiny Plays now to do what I like with that’s cool’ and then I started doing other stuff

until Monday as I was in the school canteen during lunch feeling bored because I had eaten all my food and they were talking about Ben Lyng and I don't know who he is so I looked up my emails on my phone which you have to understand I never ever usually do in the canteen but then I got an email from Gavin Kostick the Literary Director (oooh) for Fishamble saying that they liked one of the Tiny Plays I had written called ‘The Moneylender’ and they also liked the Tiny Plays of other young things like me so they decided to stage a rehearsed reading of the work of younger writers and that included me.

So I stared at it for a few seconds and most of my brain had gone silent like it does when I get a big surprise but some part of my brain must have been working as I sprang up from my chair and shrieked unintelligibly for a few seconds in a very high pitched voice then ran as fast as I could considering the chairs I had to squeeze past out of the canteen and near the door I nearly crashed into one of the smallest First Years but I apologised profusely so there's no need to look at me like that

And I ran out onto the grass and the fresh air woke up the rest of my brain and I wandered around for a bit and when I resurfaced to my companions I apologised for my lollygagging but I kept it a delicious secret in my tummy for the rest of the day you know that feeling don't you

Because I hadn't told my parents yet and I hadn't told my friends who had helped me with the Tiny Play yet and I hadn't told my English teacher yet and I couldn't go around the school with my phone so I waited

My mother printed out about five copies of the email I got from Mister Gavin Kostick and people have been congratulating me and when they do that it's easy to think they're talking to the wrong person because surely this is not me what did I do?

And that was Monday and now it's Thursday night

It's only beginning to sink in now

Even if it's only six hundred words and will only last a few minutes if that and it's being read out as I have been trying to tell people

because I am extremely very nervous which I think I'm allowed to be but maybe I shouldn't be

but what if someone asks me questions about my Tiny Play that I should know the answers to because I wrote it and everything but I don't know what to say maybe I should read it a few more times and think of some answers

But a Very Important Theatre Company In Dublin like me now and I am young and things are starting have started for me so soon and I have so much time and I'm in just the right place at the right time and I am extraordinarly lucky

And you'll never guess what but Fishamble like my writing and want to stage it and show it to other people who don't know me at all strangers even

That's basically it and it may seem small but it makes all the difference in the world

Actually I haven't booked my ticket for the reading yet

Should probably do that

Yeah

Also thank you to the nice people at Fishamble for including me and thank you to the nice people at Devious       because they helped me with the Tiny Plays and they say I'm on their young writing drive now and it's nice to feel a part of something (well I already did, but it's been said now) and thank you to the nice person who is John Kennedy just because and thank you to my mammy and daddy because they're nice too (not that they're going to read that or anything)

Anyway it's 23:12 and I'm tired. And I wanted you to hear it from me first

And I'll probably have more info soon

Project Arts Centre. Dublin. 24th March. 17:30. It's free.

So I typed this out in some sort of haze, then went to bed and forgot about it until now. The reading is on this Saturday if you're interested. This is what the nice people at Devious Theatre had to say about it, and this is more about the Tiny Plays production by Fishamble, which you should definitely go to see if you can.


And I did get around to booking my ticket.


Eleanor Roscuro

This Week I...

THIS WEEK, I...

• Did my Home Economics practical for my Junior Cert. Made Fruits of the Forest Crumble and Chilli, Spinach and Carrot Soup.
• Moved into the final week of Shifting rehearsals before Production Week.
• Won a table quiz. Using my intellect. Got an Easter egg.
• Got a cold, or flu, or something. Still have it. Hope not to have it by Sunday.
• Was away from the internet for five days SHOCK HORROR DISASTER
• Still haven't started my Script Frenzy. Fifteen days to go.
• Was complimented on my Apostrophe by a cast member of Shifting, who has started her own awesome blog. Her name's Ruth, the blog's A Healthy Kind of Vanity. Minions, you know what to do. (Like, read it. And follow. You know?)
• Was frustrated by the approach to History in the Junior Cycle in Ireland. The paper is flawed, the Chief Examiner has admitted that. It needs to be easy enough for students that find history more difficult and for the growing number of students in Irish secondary schools for whom English is not their first language, but hard enough so that only 8% of candidates will get an A. Teachers are encouraged to make lessons more 'fun' by getting their students to teach history to their classmates or playing games, but these won't help. They won't help in the exam. If your goal is to make only some students learn something, then cop the fuck on, because the Department is messing around with people's futures here. Including mine. (And I will be getting an A in Honours History.)
• Was tired. Living on pure adrenaline, which is fun.
• Got The Fear. Fear for Shifting, for my HE practical. The week before a show, I take The Fear out on my bottom lip, and it keeps bleeding now. I know you all wanted to know that. Lovely.
• Tried to draw some sort of Apostrophe header but got sad when I remembered yet again that I can't draw.
• Am HAPPY! And excited, and worried, and frustrated, but happy.

Eleanor Roscuro

Now Looky Here

This is the trailer for Shifting. It is scripted by John Kennedy, writer of the play and member of the cast, and directed and edited by Paddy Dunne. It stars the entire cast as they get up close and personal with each other. Check it out and please share it!

The song is from Morrissey, 'I Know Very Well How I Got My Name', here performed by Jessica Walsh and arranged by Geoff Warner Clayton, both members of the cast, and engineered by Ken McGuire, who is also producing the play.

Shifting opens on April 18th and runs until April 23rd in No. 76 John Street, Kilkenny. Tickets are €10, but on the first night, Monday April 18th, they're only a fiver. These fiver tickets can only be bought at the venue, and the rest of the tickets can be booked at DeviousTheatre.com or booked on 056 – 7794138.

Kisses,

Eleanor Roscuro

Going, Going, Gone

So remember a while back I blogged about a play I was excited about, called Scratcher?

That's part of a season of three plays, called In The Future When All's Well. Did I mention that? No, I didn't. Well, the second one is called Shifting, by a young chap called John Kennedy. He is a nice person.

Shifting is a comedy about making the first move. The bittersweet story is centred around a birthday party in the suburbs of Kilkenny City where a group of childhood friends try to have one last hurrah together before going their seperate ways into adult life. But as the night progresses, this final flirtation with their teenage years degenerates into a booze soaked mess of accusations, confessions, cake and unwanted gatecrashers.


It's being directed by John Morton, who also directed, wrote, and starred in Scratcher, and is being assistant directed by me.

*cough* *shuffles feet*

So, yeah.

Sorry for my absence, but I really have been busy! I have a valid excuse! I'm assistant directing a play, this play, and it's brilliant! The whole experience! Everyone's so nice, and it is truly an honour to get to do this. Ha, Google Chrome just put a red squiggly line under honour. Stupid American spelling.

But anyway. You know, it'd be nice if people came.

Shifting opens on April 18th and runs until April 23rd in No. 76 John Street, Kilkenny. It's the first week of the Easter holidays, so if you're around, you probably won't have anything else to do. Apart from come. Tickets are €10, but on the first night, Monday April 18th, they're only a fiver. These fiver tickets can only be bought at the venue, and the rest of the tickets can be booked at DeviousTheatre.com or booked on 056 – 7794138.

I know it's unrealistic to ask a lot of you to come, like the people who live in a different time zone. But if you live near-ish, I'd love to see you there.

Oh, and I wrote a little blog for the Devious Theatre website. Here it is. There's pictures and everything.

Kisses,

Eleanor Roscuro

P.S. For those who don't know, shifting is an old slang word in Kilkenny for kissing. Get it?

Let's Talk About Our Feelings

Let's have a chat over a nice cup of tea. Well, you can have coffee if you want. I've never liked coffee, but I'll be having some of that rainbow sugar if you don't mind. With my tea. I take milk.

Hi there.

Sorry about my absence. I feel like we never chat anymore, you and me. We should do that now! OK, I'll start. This is my blog after all.

1. So a few days ago at rehearsals, we were having a short break and I was playing with one of the juggling balls and trying to keep it up with my hands and moving around and eventually I found myself standing in the middle of the room and facing the back door and outside John and Ross were talking and on my left Alan and Geoff were talking about playing the guitar and someone was rattling around with mugs in the kitchen and behind me Angela was doing something and on my left down the ramp Jess was playing the guitar and singing with Connie and I was just standing there and staring at the ball, tapping it with the palms of my hands and humming the song DFTBA by Hank Green in my head and under my breath, and while I was standing there I realised how utterly amazing my brain was to take all of that in and think about all of those people at the same time and what they were doing and why and reprimanding myself at the same time because it was really none of my business what they were doing, and also thinking about things I needed to get in Educational Supplies for school and then thinking about school on Monday and if I needed to do any homework and thinking about
what I was going to eat later and also thinking about the ball I was trying to keep up with my hands and how amazing my brain was for being able to think all of those things at the same time and trying to decide if my brain was simply a brilliant organ or if I was too scatterbrained and flighty to concentrate on one thing at a time. And then I dropped the ball.

2. WAIT A SECOND!!! I haven't told you anything about any rehearsals yet! Um... Can you wait, just for a few days? Before I tell you, I'd like to have something to tell you. Know what I mean? Oh, never mind.

3. This year, both Barack Obama and the Queen of England will be visiting Ireland, within fourteen hours of each other! That's nice of them. Apparently Obama's oldest living relative lives somewhere near where I live, so he might pop over. Princess Margaret, the Queen's sister, once visited the town where my mother grew up when she was a little girl, and I still have one of the dresses Lady de Vesci used to wear. It's gorgeous. Anyway, the visits will be great for the economy. That's good.

4. Bo Burnham will be coming to Kilkenny in June, as part of the Cat Laughs festival. I'm not really a big fan, but I'm glad people on YouTube and the Internet are being seen by IRL people as real entertainers, not just teenage crushes. Not that I'll be able to go, the Cat Laughs is strictly over eighteens. Still, it brings €8 million into Kilkenny!



5. I read an amazing book recently, called The Queen Must Die by K.A.S. Quinn. I think I'll write y'all a review! But not in this post. You might have noticed the new Reading List over at the left there. Thing is, I keep buying books, but I never have the time for reading them anymore. So I've decided to be very strict with  myself and I am not allowed to buy anymore books (sob) until all the books in this list have been read. Every single one of them. I've just finished To Miss With Love by Katharine Birbalsingh, which is a MUST if you go to, or have ever gone to, secondary school. No matter where you live. Go read it.

Goodbye...

Oh, and thank you all for your kind, supreme patience.

Eleanor Roscuro...

Apostrophe - Where Social Warfare Meets Social Media

So next week, I'll be going along to see a play in Kilkenny. It's called Scratcher, by The Devious Theatre Company. It looks like this:

Don't worry, they don't look that menacing in real life. Although...

But anyway.

According to Devious, 'Scratcher is a dark, satirical comedy set in a social welfare office on a gloomy Tuesday morning as 6 unemployed people slowly begin to transform into a revolutionary outfit bent on holding the country hostage. Signing on has never been so fun. This is social warfare.'  That sounds fun! It's written and directed by John Morton, and starring Alan Butler, Annette O'Shea, John Morton, Ross Costigan, David Thompson, Ken McGuire, and Amy Dunne.

It's being performed in Dublin as part of THEATREclub's theatre festival The Theatre Machine Turns You On: Volume 2 on Thursday 17th February, (yes, the day after tomorrow) at the Project Arts Centre, and in Kilkenny from 22-26 February at the Arts Office, No. 76 John Street. You should come. I'm going. It's going to be great.

Oh, and they've released a nice little promo video for their Scratcher performance in Dublin. It's basically a checklist of everything they're bringing with them. Y'know, guns and stuff. Lots of guns. And as we all know, guns = excitement and fun! And violence. But mostly fun. Chances are I could get arrested for this sort of talk... ah well.



So... you should come. Yep. Besides, it's on in the mid-term, and you'll probably have nothing else to do. No offence.

Oh, and just so you know... (Scratcher plugging ends here, so if you're not interested in anything else, then you might need to broaden your horizons a bit, and you might like to click here for Devious Theatre. It's a lovely website.) Anyway, just so you know, I feel that Apostrophe will, slowly but surely become a this-is-what-I'm-doing blog, a lot of which I have been reading recently, rather than a this-is-how-I-think-and-feel-about-things blog. Of course, it'll still be a blog where I feel and think about things, I can't not do that. I'll just be talking more about what I do be doing with my life. And this is my bridging sentence to my next paragraph.

Here we are. On the topic of posting... Usually, my aim is to post something in between every Quote of the Week, but, and I don't want to seem whiny, but it's a lot of pressure, and if I have nothing to post about, I start posting silly 'fillers', which are basically rubbish. You and Apostrophe (Yes, I'm referring to Apostrophe as an actual living being) deserve better. So on 20th February, I will be posting Quote of the Week #43, my last. I'll be posting more than one quote, so if anyone wants to say something good in the comments, go ahead.

Eleanor Roscuro