Another portion of the fund is being used to develop and deliver the education arm of the company with our core facilitators.  These will establish and further explore the 6FootStories practice into key workshops we have identified as being central to our activity including Shakespeare, Interactive Theatre, and Devising.  There will also be exploration and establishing of workshops in Voice in Shakespeare, and Vocal Care at Festivals/Outdoor settings, drawing on personal research and practice conducted by Jake through his life as a voice practitioner, integrating this work into the company in a more centralised way.  We will be going into more depth with each of these workshops in detail in a blog post coming soon.  ​

Unless you’ve been in lockdown in a remote part of the world with no internet connection, you almost certainly know that festivals have been cancelled this summer, but they, and we, are adapting to this new Covid world.  Digital spaces and platforms have become rife, and we are entering the fray.  ​

If that doesn’t whet your appetite, we are currently beavering away at moving our revue of new work – Shattered Fragments – online.  We will be commissioning artists to create pieces that will be shared in a live-streamed event hosted by key venue partners.  ​

In closing, lockdown itself has been an unusual event, and has thrown up a series of quite difficult conversations from all sections of life as we know it.  At the time of writing, lockdown measures are starting to be relaxed and parts of the BC (Before Covid) world are perhaps waking up, though we are all asking ourselves if it is too early, and indeed if we even want those parts to wake up.  Ever heard the apocryphal Chinese curse: “May you live in interesting times”?  Well, we certainly do, don’t we?  Who knows how this crisis will develop.  We hope to see our audiences soon, but for now we take our work online.  So join us.  Let us journey through these extraordinary times together.  And let’s keep our stories alive.  ​

You may or may not know that this month I have been performing at The Hope Theatre in Islington in 6FootStories’ reworking of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, which we have called HAMLET: ROTTEN STATES. 
As the three-week run enters its final show, I wanted to take this opportunity to reflect on the whole creative process, as a reminder to myself of where I was at emotionally on 1st February 2020, before putting the project to bed for a while, and moving on to pastures new, until such a time when we take it out of the cupboard and reveal it once more to the world.​

After the success of our latest Shakespeare reworking, HAMLET: ROTTEN STATES, and the previous success of MACBETH: A TALE OF SOUND & FURY, we have decided to share some of our practices in a brand new workshop. With MACBETH and HAMLET, we have established a fairly successful formula for approaching and reworking Shakespeare texts, making them exciting, vibrant and original pieces of theatre whilst respecting the language and the beauty of the verse.

We want to share our approach to Shakespeare in a workshop that will explore:

• our approach to verse
• our approach to chopping up the text
• how we play with form and style
• making comedy of tragedy
• turning lack of budget into innovation

We think this workshop will be hugely enjoyable and useful whether you're a fresh-faced acting student or a seasoned thespian. It is primarily aimed at:

• actors looking to "brush up their Shakespeare"
• theatre makers thinking of approaching a Shakespeare/classical text
• people who have always found Shakespeare inaccessible

We welcome participants from all backgrounds and all levels of training. If you have any access requirements please let us know. The workshop will involve a lot of movement, so please come in comfortable clothes.

Date: Saturday 1st February 2020
Time: 10am - 4pm
Location: Brixton, London
Price: £35, concessions £25

The workshop will be run by 6FootStories' co-artistic directors, Jake Hassam and Nigel Munson.

​To book your place, please email with a short introduction to yourself to info@6footstories.co.uk.

We are taking work to a delectable array of festivals, fun days and fresh venues this summer, and we thought you'd like to know where you can see us, and when! We've got a whole range of different work going out over the next few months, from interactive family shows to brand new science-fi entertainment. We hope to see you in the sun somewhere!

​Check back here as we will be adding additional dates very soon...

26-28 May - POTATO PUPPET PLAYGROUND/SWAP SHOP GAME SHOW at... GERONIMO FESTIVAL, Arley Hall, Cheshire

29 May, 11am - POTATO PUPPET PLAYGROUND at... EAST DULWICH TAVERN CHILDREN'S ARTS FESTIVAL, East Dulwich, London

31 May, 7:30pm - NIGEL'S BIG BINGO BALLS UP at... FARR'S SCHOOL OF DANCING, Dalston, London

26-28 June - POTATO PUPPET PLAYGROUND at... 3 FOOT PEOPLE FESTIVAL, Hylands Park, Chelmsford

30 June - THE GYPSY LODGE at... FLING FESTIVAL, Hylands Park, Chelmsford

30 June/1 July - POTATO PUPPET PLAYGROUND/SWAP SHOP GAME SHOW at... GERONIMO FESTIVAL, Knebworth House

2 July, 7:30pm - MACBETH: A TALE OF SOUND & FURY at... THE QUARRY THEATRE, Bedford

7 July - POTATO PUPPET PLAYGROUND at... GUILDFORD FRINGE FESTIVAL, Guildford

14 July - POTATO PUPPET PLAYGROUND at... BIG DAY OUT, Maidstone

19-22 July - THE INTERGALACTIC CIRCUS OF TRUTHS at... LARMER TREE FESTIVAL, Wiltshire

2-5 August - THE GYPSY LODGE and THE SWAP SHOP GAME SHOW at... CAMBRIDGE FOLK FESTIVAL, Cambridge

3-5 August - A MENU OF DELIGHTS at... VALLEY FEST, Somerset

16-19 August - THE INTERGALACTIC CIRCUS OF TRUTHS at... GREEN MAN, Brecon Beacons

Over the weekend, Nigel took a trip to Devoted & Disgruntled 12 down in Bristol with some of our friends from Haringey Shed, and here are his thoughts...

Wow. What a weekend. As I sit here reflecting on all the talking, debating, tea-drinking, talking, idea-popping, provoking, sharing, asking, talking, expanding, despairing, and loving that went on, I feel quite overwhelmed. Of course I feel inspired and energised and positive, ready to attack this year with renewed vigour, but I also feel small, utterly inexperienced and naïve, a toddler staring up at all these adult types having all these important conversations about things they know lots about, and all I want to do is play with my toy car. But I think all that is a good thing. It's good to be surrounded by people with all kinds of deep and varied experiences, who have been doing this a lot longer than I have, who have considered how they feel about theatre for longer than I have. It makes me ask myself, what do I want to be in our fractured little theatre world? What do I want to stand for? What change do I want to make? What do I really care about? I have left D&D feeling that these questions really are important. It's not enough to just want to make fun theatre. Sometimes it is, because we need to be present more than anything, and I think having fun is the best way to do that. But to really have meaning, to really amount to something, I think I need to start answering these questions. Or start trying to answer them. And D&D is an amazing way to help in this journey. Anyway, back to what actually went down...

For those of you that don't know, Devoted & Disgruntled is the big theatre event of the year, run by Improbable. All these arty theatre types from all over come to gather and talk about anything and everything. It's a conference, but not as you know it. It's all run using an idea called Open Space Technology. Basically, it is completely democratic, and there is no agenda. Or rather, there is, but that is decided by the people in the room, on that day. If you want to talk about something, you write down a title and stick it on the timetable, e.g. "Emma Rice got sacked from the Globe - so what?" Then when all the titles are up, you have a little looky at the timetable, and go to whatever takes your fancy. It's all happening in one big hall, and the "Law of Two Feet" or "Law of Mobility" means that if you're not feeling the talk that your in, then you can use your two feet/two wheels/flying carpet to go somewhere else. It's all very relaxed and free-flowing and organic, which makes for some absolutely fantastic conversations. 

I went to some brilliant chats over the weekend, and co-hosted a couple, but the big highlight for me has to be a session entitled "How do we better support people with mental health needs when they're touring/working away from home?" This talk was so relevant to the work we're doing at 6FootStories, especially with The Burgundy Boy, but I think the things we covered are important for any tour, anywhere, whenever. Touring is tough, especially if you're touring a solo show or a two-hander, and this session made it very clear that we don't have to just accept that it's tough and get on with it, but we can actually take some pretty significant steps to make the whole process healthier, for us doing the shows, and for our audiences. Things came up that I'd never heard of - Mental Health First Aid Training for instance, which seems like such a brilliant idea, and I think all the 6FootStories core team should go on a course. I met the lovely Rachel from Art With Heart, and the support they have built in for their show Declaration sounds incredible. All in all, a hugely useful, important and inspiring session. That talk alone would have made the whole weekend worth it.

Other interesting sessions included "The Great Outdoors", where I was introduced to a concept called Landscape Theatre, which sounds very intriguing, and "Inclusion - what's all the fuss about?", which I co-hosted with my Haringey Shed colleagues. This was a really lively and provocative discussion. I'm not sure if we solved anything, but we flagged a lot of stuff up, and heard some really interesting thoughts and experiences from the wonderful people at Taking Flight, an organisation I shall be keeping a very close eye on in the future...

I shan't drone on for any longer, as I think I've made it pretty clear that I had a great time, but I shall simply end with a mighty endorsement for Devoted & Disgruntled. If you make theatre, and want to make your work (and the world you work in) better, then there's no better place to start the conversation. I shall see you at the next one...

The Burgundy Boy is a popular folk character originating in North Germany, and has spread
through much of northern Europe. In Finland they have an annual Burgundy Brunch celebrating
the legendary figure, during which all food consumed has to be of a burgundy hue. In older
celebrations it would have been a simple feast of wine, red cabbage and grapes, but in recent
years revellers have taken to using food dye in order to broaden the culinary selection.

What we know of the Burgundy Boy is derived from a collection of ballads, folk songs, oral
legends, nursery rhymes and one or two large historical accounts from Bavarian chronicles of the late 16th century. He usually appears as a boy of about 7 years old wearing a kind of monk’s
habit, the colour of which is of course a deep red. He is said to cry tears of blood but never
speaks in any of the legends save for one peculiar French account that asserts it was his voice
that Joan of Arc heard, and not God’s. The most widely-known myth is recounted below:

In a small town in Germany some time ago, the residents started to encounter various
problems. The local mill burnt down, and the people there had no work. Even more people had
no bread. Many were poor and hungry. They went to church and prayed, but nothing changed.
They knocked on every business in town, but could find no work. They knocked on every rich
man’s house in town, but could find no bread. Their numbers grew, and so did their poverty.
Soon, what had been a prosperous and happy town was reduced to misery. The poor and rich
were miserable alike. The poor were miserable because they had nothing to eat, and the rich were miserable because every time they ate they felt guilty, and every time they walked in the park, or by the river, or near the castle, they felt the pain and hunger of the poor, but were too proud to help, and too afraid to look them in the eye.

And so it went on, the rich folk of the town hiding away, getting smaller in number as the work
ran out in other places, while those with nothing grew. Their clothes became worn and their
stench became unbearable. Their suffering was clear to all, but no one helped. It looked as
though the town would waste away, be consumed by despair and desolation, until a small boy
wearing a deep red monk’s habit was seen. Then things started to change.

It isn’t known who saw the boy first, but soon word had spread that a boy priest had arrived
in the town and was there to offer them salvation. The rich folk put together a fine offering of
bread, fruit and vegetables, and the poor folk contributed what they could, which was very little. Many wondered why it had been so difficult for the rich to offer them a crumb, but so easy to gather a feast for the boy priest, but they put their grumblings to one side, because they too saw hope in this mysterious burgundy boy.

The feast was laid out in the church and the town waited for the boy to come. They waited, and
waited, and the bread became stale and the apples turned brown, but still they waited. The boy
did not come. The most outspoken members of the community questioned his very existence,
and decided the food should not go to waste. But alas, the fruit was already full of maggots and
the bread had turned mouldy. Slowly the poor and rich made their way home, disheartened and
disappointed. Their salvation had deserted them.

The air in the town turned cold and grey, and the hearts of many frosted over. Sadness and
emptiness filled the streets, and many decided the end was near. For the most melancholy folk in the town, no ointment, no prayer, no word of hope was good enough. And then he came again.

A poor drunk man who had once been a miller was seen walking over the town bridge late at
night, but the next morning was found drowned in the river. The magistrate declared his death
an accident, and a reminder of the value of temperance in these dark times, but several witnesses swore they had seen the boy in red push the miller off the bridge.

A few days later an old preacher who had grown bitter and gloomy in these dark days was found
with his brains blown out and a pistol in his hand. A local tramp testified that he saw the
preacher shooting pigeons and that a small boy had bent the barrel of the gun towards the
preacher’s head. Several destitute women were tragically cut to pieces down on the railway track, and more than a few passers-by claimed to have seen a boy in red in command of the
locomotive. A poor young doctor whose patients could no longer afford to visit him was
discovered in his bath with his throat cut. His wife through her screams could be heard wailing
about a little monk who had jumped out of the window.

More and more tragedies struck, all involving the most pained and sorrowful members of the
community. Every time the Burgundy Boy was implicated, but of course there was little
evidence. Parents told their children not to cry, otherwise the Burgundy Boy would visit them,
and the less sensitive folk in town mumbled that perhaps this small monk was putting the poor
people out of their misery.

In this time the population of the town decreased rapidly, and mass funerals had to be arranged
at very little expense. The town was still poor and could ill afford a full service for each of the
deceased. Over time, however, the prospects of the town began to turn. With a reduced
population there were less mouths to feed. Poverty was felt less acutely, and soon there were
enough jobs to go around. With the saddest people in the town wiped out by the wrath of the
Burgundy Boy, those that were left had hope in their hearts and secretly thanked the Burgundy
Boy for giving the town a second chance. In time people began to share their gratitude for
his mercy openly – a shrine was built in his name, paid for, of course, by the same rich folk that
had gathered the feast of bread and fruit so many years before. These rich folk were thankful
that this Burgundy Boy had cleared the streets of crying mothers and drunk fathers, and restored order and prosperity to the town. Time went on, and the men and women of the town soon forgot that they had ever been burdened with such misery.

The last time the Burgundy Boy was seen was at the bedside of an elderly widow who had been
ill with consumption for weeks at the local hospital. The nurses differed in their description of the event. One nurse said the Burgundy Boy had waited at the widow’s side throughout her last night, holding her hand and finally giving her the most tender of kisses on the forehead before she passed. Another nurse swore there had been a pillow between his kiss and her head, but all agreed that she was at peace now and that the Boy had been a comfort to her in her last hours.

The town grew and grew in size and happiness, and was eventually renamed Hamburg, in
honour of the Burgundy Boy, and to this day you can still hear parents warning their children
never to be sad, always to be happy, lest the Burgundy Boy return and continue his work…

We've been letting the Diver loose in Islington in his wetsuit and flippers - we really want to get to know the local area while we're here. So if you live in Islington keep your eyes peeled, because you might just see a dead man walk...

After taking Soften the Grey around the country or the last two years, we've finally arrived at our first ever full London run, at The Hope Theatre in Islington. This is a truly big moment for us.

We have been so used to packing our sheets, wetsuit and onesie up in a suitcase and trundling on to the next town, waiting to see what delights our next venue/converted hall will hold. Will there be any blue gels? Will it have a working lighting rig at all? Is there such thing as a "night out" in Buxton?

Don't get us wrong - we have loved every minute of life on the road with Soften the Grey. We've been to wonderful places like BikeShed in Exeter and the Ventnor Fringe, places that we'll remember forever. But now we have the luxury of taking over The Hope Theatre for three whole weeks, and transforming their little black box into our very own Citizens Advice Bureau for the deceased.

death(having lost)put on his universe
and yawned:it looks like rain

 – E.E. Cummings