Pricking My Memory

For the last few days we’ve been back at the Battersea Arts Centre (BAC) doing the last three performances of Backstage In Biscuit Land.

I love the BAC building. Originally it was a Town Hall but it’s been used as a theatre and creative space for over 30 years and you can see traces of different productions at every turn. It’s an un-precious space where beautiful mosaic floors sit side by side with splashes of paint. Looking up, you’re just as likely to see a beautiful domed roof as a piece of multi-coloured netting. I love all this and feel very at home there.

My mum used to work in a school of architecture and as a child I used to go there in the afternoons and hang out until she’d finished work. Though her building and the BAC couldn’t have been more different in style, they shared a strong sense of being creative spaces that are in constant flux. I used to love exploring the corridors, studios and workshops and seeing how they’d transformed from day to day.

But I learnt, very painfully, that exploring with no shoes on was a big mistake when, as a ten-year-old, I got a drawing pin stuck in my foot. I remembered this last night just before our final performance at Battersea when I noticed a drawing pin stuck in one of my wheels.

I’m pleased to report that getting a pin out of a wheel is substantially less traumatic than getting one out of a foot. And I was very glad I’d invested in solid puncture-proof tyres for my wheelchair.

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