Monday, 23 November 2015

Waiting for.... Godot?

Earlscroft Farm, Sibsey Road, Boston, Lincolnshire. 23rd November 2015. 13.30hrs.

I walked into the muddy field carrying a wooden chair on my back/shoulder.
As I walked I felt my feet sink into the soft mud. Some bits where softer than others. I walked a long time … I wanted to be almost equidistant from any obvious border.
The wind was cold

I placed the chair on the ground and I sat on it. I felt the chair sink into the mud.

I looked around.

I saw Gogo and Didi in my mind’s eye.

I was very aware of my surroundings.

I started to write what I could remember of Beckett's Waiting for Godot in my notebook.

I remember my eyes and ears very opened to my surroundings… There were some birds flying and making a noise. A train went past; I could hear the cars gushing by on the nearby road. I tried to incorporate these into the play but felt couldn’t describe those sounds properly on the paper. I scribbled them out.

I was trying to get the right rhythm of the play on the paper.

I started to get cold.

I stood up and walked away from the chair…. As I walked I remembered the character’s of the play, specially Gogo as he, at one point walks around the field, looking at the landscape. I was very aware of the mud under my feet.

I sat down on a clump of mud and wrote some more.

I stood up again and walked and ran back to the chair. I could feel the cold wind.

I sat down on the chair and resumed the writing. I was feeling quite cold but I new that I had more in my mind that I could write on the paper.

I started to get my lines mixed up. I couldn’t remember complete sentences but I could remember the gist of things so I noted it down.

I thought I would carry on for a while yet.

I suddenly felt very cold.

I suddenly felt very tired.

I was cold,

I was tired,

I was hungry.

I felt a bit ill.

I decided that this was the time to end with the sentence that said  We will go there on our honey moon.

Tiredness, cold and sadness got hold off me.

I stopped writing.

I thought of Gogo and Didi, I thought of immigrants nowadays … that they walk and walk and travel and travel… not being sure when the next meal, the next bed, the next warm place to be safe and comfortable will arrive.

I felt sleepy

I walked back to the house.

I placed my self near the fire. The cold was rushing inside me making me feel sad and ill.

I slowly became myself.

No one but Kate saw the performance.



                                       Photography by Kate Buckley

No comments:

Post a comment