By Jonathan Dryden Taylor

A test of technique this week proved to be a real treat. After nine weeks away, eight performance weeks, nine different states, seven theatres (and one prison) and twenty performances, the key number this week was two.

Our first split residency brought us two universities in two different towns, and two very different performance spaces. At Roanoke College, which is actually outside the city of Roanoke, in the charming satellite of Salem (no, not that one…) we performed in one of the largest auditoria of our tour. Not quite Ohio-sized, but still a grandly-proportioned space.

Then a couple of days later we were at Hollins University, situated within the city of Roanoke itself, in a black-box studio theatre which was the smallest room we’ve played so far.

The two spaces demonstrated how adaptable our performance style needs to be, and how this job never allows us to get complacent or settle. The larger space dictates a grander, more projected style. Reactions need to be physical- that old big-house trick of taking a tiny step to indicate surprise because a flicker across your face won’t register at the back of the room, that kind of thing.

In a black box like the one at Hollins, rhetoric necessarily takes a back seat to something intimate. We all enjoyed the opportunity to make this monolith of a play a little more conversational, more naturalistic. The sheer fact of not having to be on voice all the time gave us a chance to examine our characters in a way that isn’t always possible in a larger house. From now on I’d like to alternate every job between a 500 seater and a 50 seater, please! It certainly helps to keep things fresh.

Just to keep us on our toes, the big theatre was in the small village and the little one in the big town. Salem is basically one street, but a gorgeously eclectic one of handsome buildings, thrift shops, small businesses, lively breweries and coffee shops. Roanoke is a bustling, slightly hipsterish city with a fantastic school-of-Gehry art gallery and a laid-back vibe. And both places profit hugely from nature’s art director.

When I was a child, my parents had a 7-inch vinyl record of Laurel and Hardy singing ‘The Trail Of The Lonesome Pine’. (I have no idea why). As we landed at Roanoke Airport, a large sign informed me that we were in the very Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia that give the song its first line. If you’re at all familiar with the song, that line is now reverberating round your head, for which my apologies.

But as well as inspiring songs for 1930s comedians, the Blue Ridge Mountains make a stunning backdrop to this part of the world. There can hardly be two more beautiful campuses in the entire US than Roanoke and Hollins, and most of the week was spent under bright sun and blue skies that enabled us to see them at their best. There’s something instantly uplifting about always having hills and mountains in your peripheral vision- it was one of the highlights of our LA week, too, even though LA and Roanoke could hardly be more different.

You like mountains, do you, Jon? Well, isn’t it lucky that you’re about to fly to Vermont? I’d better stop now. I haven’t worn my snow boots for four weeks and I need to hunt them out…

By Jonathan Dryden Taylor

I’m maybe not the best person to write this week’s blog, and nor would Fred have been: this was the week we both received what I shall officially call conjugal visits. Our other halves flew in from London to San Francisco to spend the week with us and they were a very, very welcome sight.

But you, dear reader, don’t want to read about our dears. I could bore you with talk of romantic meals for two at the chef’s table, cosy getaway nights in a hotel downtown, how wonderful it feels to wake up next to the person you married after you’ve spent six weeks apart, but it’s really none of your business.

Instead, let’s talk about how we were seduced by San Francisco. It’s a gentler, less in-your-face city than its frenemy down the coast. LA shouts “look at me, aren’t I cool?” while SF quietly waits for you to notice how surpassingly beautiful it is.

I love cities when you cross a street and in all four directions there’s a view down a long, straight road, and San Francisco does this to you on every crosswalk- with the added bonus of its crazy, vertiginous hills. The drivers in our company became very adept at hill starts (Richard: “I wouldn’t like to do this in a manual!”) and there were a few terrifying, Grand Theft Auto-style journeys up and down streets that were pretty much vertical, but the fear was beautifully assuaged by the stunning, colourful architecture and the gorgeous views over the bay.

Once San Francisco gets under your skin, you realize why it was such torture for the inmates of Alcatraz to gaze out at the city, a mile and a lifetime away. Fred, Richard and I visited the prison and can now say we’ve made it to Broadway- the central aisle of the cell block was given that ironic name and leads to an intersection called Times Square.

Other highlights included theatre at the world-famous ACT, where Mfoniso Udofia’s HER PORTMANTEAU broke my heart and soothed it better. A visit to the Castro with my husband was hugely moving, paying tribute to the heroes whose sacrifices made our marriage possible. Fisherman’s Wharf fed us sourdough and chowder, Turtle Hill punished us with its relentless climb but rewarded us with spectacular views of the entire city, and the Golden Gate Bridge genuinely took our breath away: the way it hides from you as you walk through Presidio Park then suddenly appears from nowhere could only be greeted with a gasp.

Audiences at the Little Theatre at San Francisco State were warm and appreciative, and Kurt Daw welcomed us with great kindness and generosity.

I’m writing this in my hotel room at just before 9pm. My alarm is set for 3:30am so as to be on time for our 6am flight. We’re spanning timezones tomorrow, flying from California to Alabama. One day, one country, two very different places. We’re ready for the next hairpin turn in this tour of contrasts.

By Jonathan Dryden Taylor

Pro tip: if you’re an actor visiting Los Angeles for the first time, it really, really helps if you already have an acting job when you arrive.

Our status as actors has made us something of a novelty in several of the places we’ve visited, and has led to several delighted conversations. In LA? Not so much. The way to stand out in the home of the entertainment industry is probably to say you’re not an actor.

On touching down from Kansas (“I’ve got a feeling we’re not…” etc., etc.) the first, welcome change was the weather. I’ve tried not to spend too much time in these blogs moaning about being cold, but let’s be clear: we’ve been quite cold. The balmy, smoggy, scented air in LA gave a holiday feeling to our arrival, one which lasted despite our work schedule.

Classes at Occidental were a joy – really engaged, energetic students of both the undergraduate and the high-school variety, and mainly focused on acting and theatre, so although we didn’t have the usual variety of subject matter we were maybe able to feel a little more expert.

The Keck Theater was filled pretty much to capacity for our one performance, with one of the liveliest and most responsive audiences we’ve had on our travels. And because there was a reception laid on after the show with drinks and snacks (a delightful surprise to us when we emerged front of house after the show) we were able to meet and chat to some of the audience.

It was wonderful to get some direct and immediate feedback. And although that kind of feedback is necessarily going to veer towards the positive – it’s a brave, or a rude, person who would approach an actor as they grab a canapé after a three hour show to say ‘Boy, did you suck!’ – the show seemed to have touched people in just the way we’d hoped and we were all told some really lovely things.

And of course because we’re all actors, of all the places on our tour we were likely to have friends, LA was top of the list. I got to spend time with a friend of 27 years standing who I hadn’t seen since he felt the lure of Hollywood five years ago.

Fred caught up with his old Youth Theatre mentor, who is something of a Hollywood name himself, and Ffion and Tricia were also able to catch up with friends. When you’re away from home for a long time, old friends matter.

Four of us caught a match at LA Galaxy (complete with a surprise appearance by our compatriot David Beckham, who was being inducted into the club’s hall of fame), three of us were entertained at the Comedy Store, and two of us took a tour of the Hollywood Hills and found out that Britney Spears and Quentin Tarantino have both owned the same house. If those walls could talk…

And now we head to San Francisco, the shortest ‘commute’ of the tour so far. California has been a joy – it’s lovely to be spending another week here before we head back East.

Now if you’ll forgive me, I’m off to find some flowers to wear in my hair. And if you get that reference, you’re probably even older than I am.

By Jonathan Dryden Taylor

“Why, oh why, oh why, oh’ sing Ruth and Eileen in Leonard Bernstein’s Wonderful Town, ‘Why did we ever leave Ohio?’

Bernstein’s characters are lamenting their move from Ohio to New York- but maybe they just went to the wrong Manhattan? The Little Apple in Kansas has stolen a little piece of all our hearts this week after we made our own journey from Ohio.

The clear air and wide skies, the beautiful castle-style campus (visible from our hotel windows, the definition of an easy commute) the friendly welcome and the fantastic auditorium made our week in the middle of Middle America a highlight of the tour so far.

It was the first time we’ve done King Lear on a thrust stage, which had its pros and cons. The massive plus was being so close to the audience- there’s an immediacy to the communication when you have so many people almost in arm’s reach. However, we’re also very accustomed to performing the show end-on.

Having people at our sides and behind us meant we had to spend a lot of time working out how to turn our straight lines into diagonals, so that our audiences got to see us acting rather than backting. Fights had to be rejigged, as well: suspension of disbelief is all very well, but when the audience can clearly see the weapon hitting midair rather than flesh, that’s probably taking it too far.

The Chapman Theater is very well-equipped technically, too, so we were able to get a bit arty when it comes to lighting effects. Richard has put together a brilliantly adaptable LX plot which will work on any rig, but it was fun to embellish it a bit. The Chapman has a lightable cyclorama which surrounds the audience, and giving it a cold blue for the storm scene and a blood red for the final battle really added to the atmosphere.

The shows sold really well, too, which always helps. There’s something about hearing the buzz of audience chatter over a show relay which really helps focus the mind and set the adrenalin going. And thanks to a generous post-show dinner invitation from Professor Don Hedrick, we got to chat with some of them ourselves, too.

As we found in South Bend, it really is a privilege to be invited into people’s homes- and it helps with homesickness, too. It’s lovely to stay in hotels, with all mod cons and someone to make your bed for you every day if you want it, but it’s also nice to spend time somewhere lived in. A full refrigerator. Bookshelves. A row of shoes by the door. Little details of everyday life to remind us that our current day-to-day existence is thrillingly out of the ordinary.

LA next! With impeccable timing, we arrive the day after the Oscars. After a month made up pretty much of snow, snow, sleet and snow, we’re all looking forward to digging the shorts and T-shirts our from the bottom of our suitcases. See you by the pool.