Jarkko Lehmus Diary

...and the light came...

For starters I'd like to apologise to you, who ever you might be, for I've had a few problems with my internet access at home and, if you're some kind of a weirdo and have read my yarns more often than once, you know all too well I seldom write when sober so writing at work was mostly out of question and spending hours on end in a public internet establishment in the middle of the night is not really my cup of tea; with all that viewable content filtering going on I'd run out of inspiration faster than you could say: "There ain't no tits on the radio." Anyhow, I'll try my best to make up for my lengthy MIA-period and have I got some news for you to do just that! Let's cut the skin and bite straight into the meat of it...

So many times I have troubled myself by the financial situation of dance on this godforsaken island and oh so many times I have cried out for a more secure backing for my chosen company and spent nights riddled with nightmares waking up with my body covered in cold sweat, the bed covers kicked to the floor and the pillow soaked with tears of frustration. Just when I was about to give up and succumb to the fact that there is no money in the arts, Hark! I heard the angels sing and Lo and Behold! the light came in the form of a Seven Year Plan!!! So we've had a very welcome company meeting with Ashley and Cindy Sughrue and the dynamic duo had some cracking news indeed: the company has drawn together a financial plan for the next seven years and Cindy's kicking Ashley's butt to come up with an artistic plan for that time as well! Little birds have been singing about expanding our touring schedule and to top it all off the big boys are talking about turning the mirage of the new premises into reality. What actually happens, and when, remains yet to be seen...

Ho, ho, ho, Christmas hoe... Sandy, the Christmas Pimp, bringing pressies to the peeps. Wee Willy rushing to get his. Photo by me©

It does look pretty good, doesn't it? So things are looking up for the company and, if I have anything to do with my life, I'd like to head the same direction. So far it's looking good. I've finally found a flat to buy and it's an absolute beauty. The deal's as good as done but there's always the possibility of being bent over the table for a dry-rogering until the very last minute. If all goes well I should be moving in the end of March and getting the flat repossessed in the end of April because of the huge bill I racked up in Habitat to kit the place out. Snapping out of the premonition and back into the harsh reality of the turkey holocaust season I seem to remember that the 11th of December saw the first night of a slightly tweaked version of The Nutcracker. Since so many people saw the show last year there were some concerns of the audience numbers but I for one have been positively surprised. It seems to me that there's even a handful of ordinary people watching every now and again because, unlike the seasoned ballet goers, the audiences are actually enjoying the show and letting us know it. Diana's evilly sexy Dame Mouserink even got booed one night! Unheard of I say! For me the low point of the run so far has been the press night on the 14th when I had food poisoning and was holding on to things to stay upright and had to run off the stage before the start of act two to throw up in the corridor. The review claimed I delivered "a broodingly powerful performance." I'm sure the front of house manager who slipped in it agreed... Sorry about that. I'm glad the critics enjoyed themselves though. On the high note it was an absolute pleasure to get to work with Irek Mukhamedov as he chipped in with four performances as Herr Drosselmeyer. Experience talks, baby, I listen and learn.

Next on the agenda is... errr... more of the same: three shows in Glasgow over the New Year, two weeks in Edinburgh, a week in Inverness (being January my favourite bush is possibly slightly frosty so I've promised to behave myself) and a week of liquid bread diet in Belfast to top it all off. That takes us through to February and lands me in the middle of Harlem for a week. Why? If you happen to bump into me buy me a drink and I'll tell you a story for now I have to excuse myself since the Sandman is dragging me by my eyelids towards my bed. May the New Year bring you joy, prosperity and sexual fulfilment.