Then there was that London Horror Festival performance. We were playing The Old Red Lion in Islington, where Oscar Wilde once sat scribbling. The theatre is on the upstairs floor of the building. During the production there was an incredible noise coming from upstairs. The sounds of barrels rolling across the floor, footsteps, the sound of metal being dragged across the floor - all the sounds of a brewery delivering a dray on a wet Saturday afternoon...only...only there hadn't been a delivery.
I mentioned to Kate - who was running the pub and the festival - that the delivery had been a bit loud, she looked at me quizzically - 'I thought it was your sound effects?' I shook my head, 'Nope'. She looked worried. 'Oh God...he's back.' It turns out the pub has a ghost, and that upstairs is a flat - where the owner was away on holiday, there was no one upstairs, it seems the play may have woken something. As we were leaving Kate was getting on the phone to her boyfriend, telling him to come down to help her lock up - there was no way she was going to lock up on her own! Seriously though, what the hell was going on upstairs while we were onstage?
Some come join us as we launch the tour tomorrow, bring a friend to hold on to and keep telling yourself;
'It's only a play...it's only a play.'
Book your tickets at the following link:
More on the play here:
So come join us, come see why so many see this as Agatha Christie meets The Haunting, and why we are being called the new The Woman in Black...this is a night and a tale you will never forget.
Horror is a Place.