BWW Blog: Siobhan O'Loughlin - Brighton Bath Memoirs

Enter Your Email to Unlock This Article

Plus, get the best of BroadwayWorld delivered to your inbox, and unlimited access to our editorial content across the globe.




Existing user? Just click login.

After my time spent in Totnes, I bussed my body back up the northern way, this time to Brighton, where I had never ever been. My friend waiting for me at the stop is named Ben. Also affectionately known as "Benny," "Scottish Ben," (or "Hot Scottish Ben" if you ask me personally).

I had not laid eyes on Ben in 8 years, and our conversations during the brief moments or time we spent together at Dartington generally involved discussing "the revolution," rants about the political climate in both of our countries, and me climbing on his back because our height and size ratio allowed me to.

Ben was extremely organized in writing back to me when I prompted him to host me for a bathtub show at his house. Turns out he's still drumming, primarily with his gypsy punk band Buffo's Wake that has got him touring all over Europe. So, he makes his living doing the thing that he loves, which is both satisfying and inspiring to know, especially since I couldn't really remember if I'd ever seen him NOT intoxicated before. So, to now correspond with him and have him put together a pretty rad event for me was generous and thrilling. And then I thought, I hope he likes the show and I hope neither of us has changed in ways that wouldn't allow us to get along.

I hopped off of the bus to see my friend-looking so much more like a sophisticated grown up than my memories had engraved him to be (the best of us get better with age) but the same exact smile that I remembered, and we laughed when we saw each other, and we hugged, and he dragged my busted suitcase all over Brighton.

Ben lives in a "Dude House" with three other fellas, and two of them are Dartington grads. We did three shows: one night for a menagerie of charming, lovely guests who are part of Ben's community in Brighton. (Including a very special surprise appearance from the illustrious and un-traceable Jai Northover).

"I feel like I'm in Vienna, having shows in my house." Ben said in between shows. The next night, I did a separate one just for Ben's housemates and partners.

To be 100% honest, Ben wasn't sure whether they'd like it or not. Perhaps he had sort of insisted that they attend, even. But we got everyone together-Joe and his partner, David and his partner, and Tom-whose partner couldn't make it (and who would have had a hard time fitting anyway, I think).

When Ben expressed uncertainty about whether this show would be something his housemates would dig, I actually felt more excited-with this piece in particular, I have in general found more ways of reaching more people, including those who are not necessarily theatrically inclined. (I mean, is it really theatre? It's in a bath.) So let's do it, I said.

The most important thing to mention about this special showing is that it is one of my very favorites I have ever done.

Joe's partner Victoria (also of note, the only female-identified person in the audience) sat closest to me, which meant she was able to wash my hair. Tom sat on an amp in the back. He leaned in to whisper to Joe during my hair washing, and David revealed that they were whispering about how good my product smelled. (It does indeed smell good. It's from my sponsors at The Body Shop.)

Not only did this group have a solid appreciation for a luscious lather, but they were also completely invested from very early on. That is to say, all of my fears about their perception of this strange little work washed away as they not only engaged in a dialogue with me, but they started raising their hands when they had a story to tell. Sometimes their stories involved each other, so they'd tell it together. At one moment, someone opened up with a memory of a difficult night, and the others recalled it as well, and supported him: "I could have been there for better that night, man. I'm sorry."

These generous moments were also paired with narratives of slapstick-like injuries that a person just can't make up, and had everyone laughing. The vulnerability matched with humor in this group made the night particularly significant to me.

"What did you do to them?" Ben, who did not watch this showing because of audience capacity, asked me after the performance, "They're all like, smiling and hugging."

My Brighton visit was much too short lived. But it also fueled me with feeling closeness that art brings, that conversation brings, that which listening to other people's stories brings. I got to know some Dartington acquaintances that became friends, and I also reconnected with a longtime, dear person in Ben who I still find myself missing.

But let's end of a cheerful not, to quote one of Ben's housemates from the evening, "Your performance was a kick in the feels. It's changed me."



Videos