Halden Theatre Presents . . . . . Richard Bolton!

Working with people, is something I have never been good with. It’s the interaction, small talk, the miniature taboos. I just struggle. However, within this project, many fantastic new friends and faces have been met. So it leaves me to introduce them. Each entry I will offer a small section on a new face of Halden Theatre in the hope that with a little sweet praise, they will forgive my otherwise vicious and visceral character. So, we begin with Richard Bolton, who will be playing the valet within Huis Clos. Rich is an old friend of mine, often have we drunk deep into the night, and I remember a time when our lives evolved around stealing as many drugs as we could and duping all that would let us. Good times, bad fun, brute strength of character and cruel determination. Since then, he has grown up a little in thoughts and ambitions. Richard is a fantastic writer and a talented musician. A voice, my god, the bastard can howl. Rich has been involved with such groups as the 3am association, Eden06, and Sub Rosa. Also, he has worked with me as a filmmaker, actor and all the sorry stuff that we do to produce a film. I have known him a long time, and hope to continue to. So as we sit and sip whisky waiting for the first rehearsal, all spirits are high in glass and mind as we soak the afternoon air. Gathering all cast and crew together in an abandoned warehouse with the stink of piss is kinda where I saw myself in three years. And know because of that thought, a good drunk is on the table, oh sweet hell it is. But it is something, quite. The reading all goes well and schedules are drawn up, and as they sit and read and Daniel sways with the rhythm, Richard smokes a cigarette, Lian tugs her coat and Hanna tucks into the red leather sofa. It all comes into place. And it strikes me, six years ago, rich and I were crashing in a little homely squat, tucking cocaine under the toilet seat as the police came in through the front by the battered fireplace and the garden full of child’s toys. And now, now, I am sitting in a room with talent resonating against the walls. Shit, someone even brought cake, fucking homemade cake! So as I sit and sip my black coffee, and light another cigarette, it seems that somewhere things changed. I just hope I do not slip. I’m not sure Daniel would forgive me.
p.s. Lian, thank you it was really dam good cake.