Monday 2nd December 2024

Woke around 0330 to find that my mattress had leaked, and I was now sleeping on the floor! Had to get up and pump the thing back up again. When I woke at 0800, it had gone down again, so I got up and found James and Anne in the kitchen...they made some tea, and peanut butter on toast for breakfast. Sat about listening to various oddities from James's endless collection of recorded music. Beth returned from her early morning shift. James drove us down to the railway station at 1115, and we awaited the arrival of Charlotte West-Oram...she'd come up on the train from Derby. James drove us into Newcastle and we found a cafe where we had coffee and a catch-up. We got back in the car and headed for Bradwell Crematorium. Found ourselves about half-a-dozen cars behind Albert's hearse as we followed him in to the crematorium. 

By now it was tipping down with rain. Sat next to Maggie Saxon, who was General Manager at the Vic back in my day. Former directors Rob Swain, and Chris Martin were in attendance. Chris's partner, the actress Mary Jo Randle, too, as well as old acting mate Sean O'Callaghan, and the now retired lighting technician, Paul Jones. Chris, now 82, revealed he was being treated for bowel cancer. But he remains as irrepressible as ever!

A simple memorial service was conducted, and we were given Albert's potted history, from activist fighting to keep his job and hundreds of others at the local steelworks, to his meeting theatre director Peter Cheeseman, who documented the fight, turning it into a famed piece of documentary theatre, "The Fight for Shelton Bar"; 

and Albert's subsequent love-affair with the theatre and his efforts to help Cheeseman build the first purpose-built theatre-in-the-round in Europe back in the mid-80s, just before I turned up to be in "Tom Jones". Eddy York, another old actor pal who had been very close to Albert over the decades, failed to get to the crematorium, his train down from Edinburgh being delayed. He managed to make it to the wake, which was held at the Vic...sat about chatting with various old faces, and enjoyed a light lunch and a cuppa tea. People began to disperse around 1700, and Sean and I accompanied Paul Jones round to what used to be the theatre local, The Crown, now re-named The HopInn. Sat and chewed the fat over a couple of beers. Paul revealed he's written a book about travelling players in the 18th Century...we swapped email addresses, and he promised to email me some excerpts. Sean and I walked to Penkhull in the drizzle...we'd intended to stop for a swift beer in the Jolly Potters', but it was shut...apparently the bloke who took it over last month died suddenly last week! We walked on to Sean's at No.37 Westland Street, just around the corner from where I used to live with Kerry. Indeed, I used to baby-sit Sean and Judy's son, Conor, in that very house. Sean's partner, Jenny, greeted us as we gained entry. She'd cooked a chick pea and tomato curry, which she served up with lots of rice. We had a bit of a catch-up at the kitchen table, then strolled round to The Beehive for a beer...it was open mic night, and very loud, but we stuck it out...an evening's free entertainment. Back at No.37 we had ourselves a night-cap, after which I retired for the night. They put me up in Conor's old childhood bedroom, which didn't look as if it had been redecorated these last 35 years! Still, it was a great improvement on last night's digs!