“It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue…”  

Ironically enough, at the end of this wonderful adventure, I’m finding it tricky to know how to  begin. Jet-lag has taken me out at the knees these last few days, and has resulted in a brain fog  the likes of which I haven’t known in a good while, so you’ll forgive me if my reliably compelling  prose isn’t quite as sparky as usual. Disclaimer: if my sarcasm hasn’t bled through these last few  entries, let that prior line be proof that it’s very much alive and well. 

Yes, we’re home. I’m writing this from my favourite Soho coffee shop, and as I’m typing I’m  suddenly reminded that the last time I was here was to pick up a coffee before our first script  readthrough, the very first day this whole adventure kicked off. We’re still not quite finished,  however; Sunday sees our homecoming show at the Cockpit Theatre, and next week our final  college residency at Notre Dame’s London campus, including the first time an AFTLS  performance has been held at the London campus. A handful more classes and performances  before, to coarsely paraphrase, what was once prologue becomes past. We’re in a bit of a limbo  state at present – not quite finished but not quite in the thick of it – and I’m sure my sleep  deprivation is contributing to that feeling of unsteadiness. I can blame a percentage of that on jet  lag and my total lack of sleep on the plane home, however if I’m being entirely truthful I think our  final week mentality of “we can rest when we’re home/dead” (delete as appropriate) may have  been something of a contributing factor. 

For all we’ve only visited four stops this tour, they’ve all felt incredibly distinctive and individual,  and Austin was no different. We stepped off the plane and into the blast of a warmer climate as  you may imagine someone who’s walked for days in a desert might step into the sweet relief of an  oasis. We were positively giddy – so much so that a two-hour kerfuffle at the rental car desk  couldn’t quite dampen our spirits, though I can assure you they gave it their best go. When we  finally decamped at our hotel we decided that the best course of action was to hit the ground  running; our hotel was dangerously close to the Texas Chilli Parlour, so naturally that was an easy 

choice for dinner, and afterwards we wandered the city centre until we stumbled into an  underground jazz bar. I managed to see live music every night we were in the city – not that it’s a  particularly hard thing to do in the self-proclaimed live-music capital of the world – and sitting in a  basement jazz club watching aspiring musicians rotate their line-up to equally astonishing effect  whilst chatting with good friends over cocktails is pretty close to heaven for me. 

I exercised a little restraint, however, as my first class the next morning was an early kick-off and I  didn’t entirely trust myself not to get lost in the enormity of the UT Austin campus. To give you an  idea of scale, Shenandoah had around 4,000 students enrolled – Austin has a little over 50,000.  It’s mind-boggling when you lay it out, but I managed to find my way to the creative writing class I  was taking over that morning and lead the workshop I’d planned – half on public speaking skills to  hopefully help them share their own work with confidence and ease, and half on character  development to give them an idea on how one may approach building a believable, fully  developed human being from the inside out. The engagement, creativity, and lack of ego these  students exhibit across the board is something I’m in awe of; everywhere we’ve visited, I’ve  prefaced workshops by saying that the only outcome I want to guarantee is that they have fun,  and that for all we may throw some strange or unusual exercise at them the last thing that we  want is for them to feel uncomfortable. They’ve then proceeded to dive head-first into improv  games, genre experiments, human statue exercises, without hesitation or complaint. It’s incredibly  heartening to see the way students will take creative prompts and run with them, seeming almost  unaware that they’re being creative in the first place, and I’m truly going to miss leading the  workshop element of the job.

With an early class finished and no show that evening, the rest of the day was my own. Sam was  determined to show me east Austin and I was determined to let him, so we met up after class and  wandered to the city’s most eclectic neighbourhood – coffee shops, vintage stores, trendy food  trucks and craft breweries, one notable spot thrift store in somebody’s house wherein we did have  a slight moment of panic that we were unknowingly breaking in and rifling through somebody’s  wardrobe wardrobe. I was introduced to the simple delight of Mexican Coke on a very hot day  and was once again floored by how insane it was to me that I was being paid to be here. Jo  headed out to join us, all of us still not entirely processing the fact that after weeks in thermals  and knitwear we were suddenly in t-shirts, and after taking in the sunset on the roof of our hotel  we made the pilgrimage to Cuantos Tacos, Michelin-starred food truck and, as a foodie, a big  cross off my Texas to-do list. The plan for the evening was to see the Longhorns take on  Louisiana State at the Mardi Gras basketball game, and if ever there was living proof of everything  being bigger in Texas it was this. Pyrotechnics to introduce student athletes, the entire crowd  springing to its feet every ten seconds, the mini-blimp floating around the stadium at halftime  dropping barbe-coupons. Jo and I spent half the game looking at each other quizzically at each  new spectacle, and the other half screaming for the Longhorns as loud as our show-conscious  throats would allow us to. Sam had decided on an evening to himself taking in a little more of the  city’s music scene, so naturally Jo and I decided to crash his solitude and head out to the  Continental Club after the game to meet him – it’s at this point I’ll refer you back to the “sleep when we’re home” mantra for this week. The three of us were deposited back at the hotel by  driverless car (another Austin novelty – I’m not so sure I enjoyed this one as much as the others  we’d encountered) further past midnight than may’ve been sensible, but having had as full an Austin day as I imagine one could possibly experience, barring a rodeo of some kind.

Wednesday was a biggie, as I was meeting yet another mythical figure in the AFTLS canon – I had  my class as part of the Shakespeare at Winedale outreach programme, run by the one and only  Clayton Stromberger. Way back in rehearsals Al beguiled us with tales of the beauty of Winedale,  a UT programme-come-summer-camp which serves to cultivate young performers with an  interest in classical text, with Clayton being one of the leaders. He was currently working on  scenes from As You Like It with kids from several nearby elementary schools, to be performed in  the lobby of the theatre we were performing at before our final performance that Saturday – he’d  tasked me with working on some group scenes with them and we had an absolute ball looking at  the scene between Audrey, Touchstone, Martext, and Jaques. When the students weren’t  performing as the characters, I tasked them with doing what we do so often in the show and  populating the scene as human set pieces, building the Forest and Audrey’s goats. The kids are  intelligent, receptive, curious, respectful, and totally blew me out of the water with their talent and  aptitude for Shakespeare, qualities I’m sure Clayton has honed and encouraged in his time with  them. I went into our final tech that afternoon with a new wealth of energy from the enthusiasm  and joy we’d found in an elementary school cafeteria that afternoon, as well as with excitement to  head to a local line-dance bar that Clayton had recommended for us that evening.  

Our final few days went by in something of a blur, all of us so eager to maximise every aspect of  our remaining time in the States. I went full Texas tourist and queued for Franklin’s barbecue –  Sam joined me just as I reached the front of the line, and thank goodness he did or else I fear I  may never have eaten again for the rest of the week. We went two-stepping at the Broken Spoke,  Benjy spinning me round a dance floor like nobody’s business and me having the time of my life  pretending I knew what I was doing. We went swimming at Barton Springs, me desperately trying  (and eventually succeeding!) to get Jo to dive into the beautiful cool waters looking over the  Austin skyline. Somewhere in all of this we even managed to squeeze in a few shows, our final  performance being particularly special as we got to see the ‘curtain raiser’ – the showing of  scenes by Clayton’s elementary school students before they come and see us in the play that 

evening. The kids were spectacular – for all I’d only worked with them for one workshop, I could  have burst with pride seeing them doing scenes from our play, and what a gift it was to hear it  anew and belonging to an entirely new cast. We’ve come to almost take this story for granted;  we’ve been with it since our readthrough at the tail end of November, a long time to stay the same  words. For all we go into each show mining for the newness, it was endlessly refreshing to hear  the students make it their own and have it chime afresh – or, even in some cases, see them  interpret the lines in very similar ways! As if they hadn’t spoiled us enough, they also made for an  exceptional final crowd – as Jo, Benjy and I were in the midst of the banishment scene I realised  that the student who had worked on it and performed it in the curtain-raiser earlier were mouthing  the lines along with us, like Shakespearean karaoke. They were fully in our corner and having a  blast, and it was an incredibly special one to end on. High on adrenaline and the bittersweetness  of closing out the US shows, we spent our final evening in a honky tonk joint on the outskirts of  town, fittingly named Sam’s Town Point. Clayton asked the band to play Dancing In The  Moonlight, and that’s exactly what we did until the very small hours of the morning, until we all  ventured out to find pizza and a cab home at a time I don’t know I could admit to. Thank  goodness for an early evening flight the next day. 

And now here you find me – home, after five weeks of wayward adventuring, and not quite sure  how to finish this thing. It’s a great feeling to know we still have shows to come – I’m a nervous  wreck for our London show, but mainly because I’m lucky enough to have such wonderful friends  in my corner who are all coming along to see this thing I haven’t been able to shut up about for  the last few months. I can’t wait to show them what we made in that room in Brixton. 

One thing I would like to end on – I came across this blog when I was first auditioning for AFTLS  and wanted to know a little more about what I was potentially getting myself in for. At the risk of  being presumptuous, there is a chance that somebody reading this is doing the exact same thing,  and I was thinking about what message I would like to give somebody who may be considering  taking on this bonkers, brilliant job, and I landed on this – grab it with both hands. This company  is a remarkably special one to be a part of, and I’m honoured to count myself amongst such  intelligent, adventurous, and, most importantly, kind people. It’s the sort of job I could never  conceive of doing the I first began my career and one that I am so grateful I got to be a part of; for  how much it’s challenged me, for what it’s afforded me, and for everything it’s taught me. It can be  daunting, and it will be, but the control and freedom it affords you across all of its many facets is  worth every moment of feeling afraid of it, which shall hopefully be few and far between. I wish  you luck, and hope you can have just as much of an adventure as we did. 

To the entire AFTLS network – thank you for letting me be a part of your brilliant ranks, and for  your words of wisdom and encouragement when we were figuring out whatever this show was going to be. To each and every one of our many friends in the US – thank you for welcoming us with open arms and a wealth of kindness. To you, dear reader, thank you for following our  adventures, and I hope you’ve found a little bit of joy in these ramblings. 

Al, Benjy, Sam, and Jo – thank you for being my co-mates and brothers in exile. I won’t ever forget  this. 

“…when I make curtsey, bid me farewell.”  

– Grace x

“A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad…to have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes and poor hands.” 

Now, look. I love Rosalind. Like, love Rosalind. Playing her is without a doubt a  high point in my career – her dialogue is sparky, her relationships complex, she  is incredibly, fallibly, human, and my daily ritual of deciding which element of her  story to bring my focus to on each particular show is one I always look forward  to. 

I do not always agree with her. 

For example – in Act III, whilst waiting for Orlando to show up for his wooing  lesson, she’s telling Celia about how she ran into her father in the forest – her  banished father she hasn’t seen since he was callously driven out of his home  and rightful dukedom by her uncle, and whom she knows has been living in the  forest but has had no clue of his condition beyond the rumours she’s been  desperately seeking out at court. After describing to Celia how her own father 

didn’t recognise her in her disguise as Ganymede during their long-awaited  reunion, Rosalind then brushes all of that significance off by asking Celia, “what  talk we of fathers when there is such a man as Orlando?”. 

Girl. 

Another point on which we disagree is her view on travel. She scolds Jaques,  telling him that he has “sold his lands to see other men’s” and that that is the  reason why he’s so miserable all the time. She is, notably, neglecting the fact  that she herself isn’t exactly on home turf in the unfamiliar landscape of Arden  

pretending to be a shepherd boy, but that’s neither here nor there. I count myself  incredibly lucky that the acting jobs I’ve taken in the last year have all had an  element of adventure about them, and a brilliant group of cast mates that have  been willing to make the absolute most of those opportunities. Al has told me on  a few occasions that I’ve ‘lived a lot of life’, and I’m glad to be among like minded company. 

The last time we caught up, you found me holed up in a coffee shop in  Arkansas. Our final days at Hendrix were joyous, made so largely by the  wonderful team of students and faculty that worked incredibly hard to not only  make the show so smooth but also to welcome us into their community. We’d  been warned before our final show that we’d be partaking in a Hendrix theatre  tradition once we were finished, which turned out to be an en-masse Hokey  Cokey (and much discussion about how it varies on each side of the pond – they  don’t even “ra-ra-ra”!) paired with perhaps the greatest chocolate chip cookies  I’ve encountered in my storied biscuit-eating career, thanks to tech department  head and all-round wonder woman Lauren. We went out for dinner with Antonio  and Bridgette, our spectacular staff contacts for the week, with most of the  student tech team in tow – our chilled post-show celebration quickly evolved  into karaoke at the bar next door and me introducing anybody who would listen  to me to the wonderful world of mezcal picklebacks. I’d foolishly confided that I  regretted not doing karaoke at White Water Tavern when we’d gone earlier that  week, and found myself suddenly having to put my money where my mouth  was. We all gave it a go bar Benjy, who was otherwise engaged in a pool  tournament with the locals as well as being an incredible hype man whenever  one of us did get up, and I am once again reminded writing this of how grateful I  am to have a team that takes “work hard, play hard” to a level all our own. 

We’d planned a hike for our Sunday off which, as I’m sure you can imagine  based on the previous evening’s antics, was maybe not the wisest move in  terms of self-care. Petit Jean State Park was among our most popular  recommendations when we asked the locals what we should check out, and so  we piled into the cars to make a valiant effort to make it to the waterfall there. 

Summer in this part of the country must be beautiful, but there is something  unique about seeing it in snow, in a quieter season where everything feels stiller  as it begins to come back to life after winter – much mirrored by each of us  emerging from our varying levels of alcohol-induced mental debilitation with  each lungful of mountain air inhaled and icy rock successful navigated. That  evening, we retreated to the Mexican restaurant within spitting distance of our  hotel to watch the Superbowl over vats of tortilla chips. As hangover cures go, I  can recommend a day like this one. 

You currently find me on the Metro back to Winchester, Virginia after venturing  out for a solo Sunday in D.C. to end our week working at Shenandoah  University. I have 20,000 steps and a very poor night’s sleep under my belt, so  I’m a shell of a woman, but there was no way we were going to be this close to  the capitol of this great nation without me seeing what it was all about. It’s  overwhelming, really, just how much ground we all want to cover during our time  in each location. Any spare moments we could snatch between classes and  shows this week have been spent exploring high and low – over state lines, 

across civil war battlefields, to historic houses turned wineries, even into living  rooms on one occasion. One of our wonderful professors for the week, Valerie,  invited us over for pizza and bluegrass music; she and her husband open their  home to local musicians every Wednesday night to jam, and they were kind  

enough to let us sit in after our tech rehearsal. I’m a huge music obsessive, and  seeing these people who may have only met that evening passing melodies  around like it’s second nature was a truly special thing that I think it’s safe to say  we were all moved by. Other excursions included a day out to Harpers Ferry,  planned meticulously by our resident historian, Jo; we drove over the border into  West Virginia blasting John Denver’s Country Roads, looking at the actual Blue  Ridge Mountains on our way to the Shenandoah River. A bucket-list item that I  didn’t know I needed. We climbed to Jefferson’s Rock, so named because the  man himself proclaimed it as a view worth crossing the ocean for – I can see his  point – before hiking a small section of the Appalachian trail, crossing a bridge  that took us over two rivers and into our third state of the day, Maryland. This  was all before noon, as the afternoon was designated for carrying on to  Antietam, site of the bloodiest single-day battle in American history. It’s a  sobering thing, looking out over a view that was the last thing so many people  saw before they died – I don’t know if I anything I could write can do justice to a  feeling like that. 

It was a quieter week on the workshop front – for all we had four shows, we only  had five workshops to plan for, and we decided that it would be a perfect  opportunity to double up and work with each other on the sessions we had on  the roster. Sam and I teamed up for Acting Fundamentals, and I shared a  workshop with the student-run Shakespeare society with Jo. It’s always  incredibly rewarding applying the actor’s toolkit to a study that may not  necessarily seem like an obvious choice to utilise it in – for example, Benjy and I  went into a class last week entitled “Writing In Response to Art”, and were  thrilled at how willingly the students dove head first into work that may feel alien  or daunting – but the enthusiasm that theatre kids have for the work we do is, as  always, potently galvanising. Shenandoah is a conservatory school, and boasts  a staggeringly well-equipped theatre department and students with a real  appetite for as any styles and perspectives on performance as are to be had.  Sam and I put them through their paces in terms of where to begin with building  a character’s physicality and making bold, committed choices, and Jo and I ran  a crash-course on navigating prose and multi-roling. I was incredibly nervous as  to the workshop element to this job however it’s consistently been one of the  parts I’ve looked forward to each week, especially when coupled with the  chance to work with these brilliant, intelligent people beyond the world of the  play we’ve made (but don’t tell them I said that, I don’t want to massage their  egos.)

It’s our second week performing in thrust, and we dedicated time back in  Hendrix to reshaping the performance to accommodate the audience we now  find surrounding us. For all that work carried over well to Shenandoah and  meant we didn’t have to re-stage again, none of us are willing to entirely leave  the director’s chair; the show is very much still malleable, still subject to our  curiosities and refusal to settle for ‘serviceable’. Sam and I checked back in with  the love story between Rosalind and Orlando as we both felt it was losing a bit  of its lustre, and Benjy and Sam have been workshopping the scene between  Touchstone and William as both feel there’s some missing element to it – 

considering I have to make a concerted effort not to corpse in that scene every  show I may be inclined to disagree, but far be it from me to quash the creative  process. Al has been opening ‘all the world’s a stage’ out to cast different  audiences members as each stage of life, and it’s a dream to watch the journey  that he takes the speech on every night. It’s a reminder that for all we keep a  close eye on the play internally, we have to check in with our audiences, too;  what’s landing? What may they be missing? How do we keep them from the  opinion that Shakespeare is fusty and irrelevant and hard to understand? There  are some elements that can’t quite be avoided – for example, a crowd always  seems a little stunned when we go into the jig that ends the play – however it’s a  rewarding feeling to hear the crowd respond well to a moment we may have felt  was a little sticky or circled back to rework. Our final show in Shenandoah was  one of my favourites we’ve done so far; it felt like a real balancing act between  the things we’d revisited and a receptive, eager audience, mostly made up of  students who were spending their Valentine’s Day evening with us. That level of  engagement from a younger crowd is exactly why I love classical work – it’s the  words, exactly as they were said all those hundreds of years ago, but ringing  with fresh meaning and perspective. I got a little emotional during our final  curtain call – it’s this kind of show that made me fall in love with acting and  Shakespeare, and maybe (just maybe) we’ll be that for somebody else.

Somehow, tomorrow we head to Austin to commence our final week in the  States – I’m firmly planting myself in denial for the time being, as I am far from  ready to be finished with this work or this adventure. We already have a to-do  list as long as all ten of our arms put together, each of us pulling the other four  towards a restaurant, a live music venue, a sports event, a hike. I’ll be going  home a more experienced woman than when I left, and I’ll be all the more richer  in so many ways because of it. I hate to disagree with my character, however on  this one occasion I think I have to put my foot down.