Rambles and Rants
Thoughts on creativity, art, and navigating freelancer life.
Should you find yourself here and inspired enough to want to comment on anything, feel free to drop me an email via the contact bit on the main page (Mum, you can just text me, it’s alright).
19/08/2025
Well it's been quiet round here..
I’d usually start this post by apologising for my lack of writing over the past 11 months, but since even my mum has stopped checking this page, I’d likely just be screaming into the void. When I first began this blog, I had a vague plan to write once a month. At the time, I was in a bit of a quiet creative-work patch (code for: absolutely nothing) and desperate for something (anything) to keep me rooted in the theatre world. But in a funny twist on the old “book a holiday, get a job” cliché, mine turned out to be more “start a new project, get a job (several jobs, in fact - I know, get me).” A rather wonderful turn of events.
Earlier this year, I headed off to the Watermill Theatre to work as Assistant Director to Paul Hart on The Autobiography of Cad, Ian Hislop and Nick Newman’s stage adaptation of A.G. Macdonell’s novel.
This was an utter joy, not only because the cast and creative team were brilliant (I got to soak up their knowledge, skill, and talent like the little sponge that I am), but also because I discovered that Mr A.G. Macdonell himself was from my home patch in Aberdeenshire.
Before rehearsals, I did a lot of research on old Archibald Macdonell (never “McDonell”; he was very strict on this) and ended up writing a short article for the show’s programme about his life and legacy. So I thought I’d pop it up here too.
MUM: I love you for being here, but you really don’t have to read this again!
02/2025 (ish)
Rediscovering A.G. Macdonell: Britain’s Forgotten Great Satirist
Wolvercote Cemetery in Oxford is a popular site for literary tourists. When I visited on a sunny Friday afternoon in late October, I watched a steady stream of visitors entering. All followed the same path to one particular grave: that of J.R.R. Tolkien.
None of these pilgrims seemed to notice they were striding right past the grave of another author. A.G. Macdonell’s resting place lies just a plot away from Tolkien’s. While Tolkien’s grave is covered with flowers, books, cards, and other Middle-earth memorabilia, Macdonell’s is bare. The tombstone is broken, and the trunk of a dead tree juts out of the earth. It’s a sad and sorry sight. No one would guess this is the resting place of one of Britain’s great satirists of the early 20th century.
A.G. Macdonell was born in Pune, India, in 1895, where his father worked as a merchant. Both his parents hailed from Aberdeenshire, in northeast Scotland, and the family returned to their home in Bridge of Don in 1897. It was in Aberdeen that I first stumbled across Macdonell. Being from the area myself, I remembered a small sculpture of his face that had been displayed in an art gallery next to the leisure centre where I used to go swimming. The sculpture is displayed only during National Reading Weeks; the rest of the time, it’s stored away in Aberdeen Museum’s archive centre. When I visited, I asked why it wasn’t on permanent display and was told by the curator that Macdonell “just didn’t quite fit anywhere.”
This “not quite fitting” seems to have been Macdonell’s perennial problem. His literary work didn’t fit neatly into the popular movements of the post-World War I era. At a time when many writers leaned into Naturalism and Romanticism, celebrating the natural world and rural landscapes, Macdonell chose satire. Nor did his work align with the emerging modernist or abstract literary movements. Even as war literature gained prominence, Macdonell, who was invalided out of the trenches with shell shock, never wrote directly about his experiences of combat, though the undertones of it haunt his work.
Instead, Macdonell excelled in satire. He worked as the parliamentary sketch writer for The Manchester Guardian, satirising the day-to-day antics of Westminster politics. His novel The Autobiography of a Cad (1938) exemplifies his sharp wit and incisive humour, telling the tale of Edward Fox-Ingleby, an unscrupulous and self-serving Conservative politician. By the late 1930s, however, as tensions with Germany escalated, the British public’s appetite for satire waned. In times of crisis, people tend to seek unity and stability rather than critiques of leadership or society. Satire, which thrives in more stable periods, became more restrained during this era.
This might explain why The Autobiography of a Cad, though well-received by critics, remained relatively obscure. One person who did take notice, however, was Joseph Goebbels. He misread the satirical nature of the book, believing it to be a genuine account. He even used it as inspiration for German wartime propaganda against the English, writing in his journal: “I read a book by the Englishman Macdonell, an unspeakably frivolous and cynical concoction that shows the English plutocrat without his mask. Simply horrifying.”
Macdonell’s health never fully recovered from his wartime experiences. He died in 1941, aged just 45, leaving behind a body of work that has largely faded from public memory.
His grave, neglected and overshadowed by his more famous neighbour, is a poignant metaphor for his literary legacy. As I stood at his graveside, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. Here lies a writer who captured the absurdities of his time with wit and brilliance, yet today, he is almost entirely forgotten.
The Watermill Theatre’s production of The Autobiography of a Cad, however, is seeking to rectify this. While satirising politicians may not have been popular in the 1930s, fast forward nearly 100 years, and recent political events have made The Autobiography of a Cad feel rather timely. With the exceptional wordsmithery of Ian Hislop and Nick Newman, who are adapting his novel for the Watermill’s stage, Macdonell’s hilarious satire will be brought into the public eye once again.
This production breathes new life into a forgotten piece of literature that feels all too relevant to modern times. It’s a chance to rediscover Macdonell’s wit and reflect on satire’s enduring power to expose the absurdities of any age.
14/09/2024
Why Schools Need to Add Drama to Their Script (My 50 Cents on the Case for Theatre in Schools)
Human beings are innate storytellers. As I write this on a busy rush-hour train, I’m surrounded by stories. Three schoolchildren giggle, recounting their first week back at school, each one interrupting the other to clarify the latest gossip. The man behind me anxiously rehearses for his job interview tomorrow. Meanwhile, a toddler passionately shares a wonderful, if illegible, tale with their bemused mother. If theatre is about telling stories through voice, movement, and expression, then every day we’re surrounded by it. As the big man said, all the world really is a stage.
Yet despite being so natural to us, theatre - or live storytelling - remains undervalued in the school curriculum. Music is compulsory for all students aged 4 to 14, and practical dance lessons, incorporated into PE, are mandatory. However, drama as a practical subject is non-compulsory, meaning students could go through their entire education without a single practical drama class. While drama does appear in the curriculum, it’s mostly studied at a desk, focusing on literary analysis rather than live performance. In essence, we study the scripts but ignore the stage.
Theatre isn’t just a form of entertainment; it’s a vital educational tool. Early human societies used performance to tell stories, share knowledge, and strengthen communal bonds. Today, theatre is often employed in prisons, rehabilitation centres, and therapy programmes to help people process trauma, develop empathy, and rebuild a sense of community.
Theatre can transform lives, take Michel Belogan, who, while in prison, started working in the hospitality section at RADA, only to fall in love with theatre, train there, and now enjoy a successful career. His story illustrates the power of access; theatre is transformative when given the chance to flourish. But it’s not just individuals who benefit, communities as a whole are enriched through the shared experience of live performance. In an age of individualism, a good play often brings together the voices of individuals and shows how they sit within a community. The act of watching a production together fosters a shared experience, leading to greater empathy and creating discourse and reflection among audiences.
Research shows that participating in live theatre enhances communication, social awareness, and creativity. Theatre has also often walked hand in hand with social change. Consider the work of Bertolt Brecht or, today, the Belarus Free Theatre, which uses performance as a tool for social revolution. Participants and audience members risk their safety to attend shows. As Lyn Gardner wrote in The Guardian in 2016, “Any kind of street-level protest…, is effectively a form of theatre.” Yet while theatre can inspire change and reflect society’s struggles, its impact is limited.
Only 14% of Brits visit the theatre more than twice a year. Why is this? It’s clearly not a disinterest in stories, consider how much time we spend watching TV dramas or reading novels, both fiction and non-fiction (3 hours and 12 minutes per day on average). Often, the high cost of theatre tickets is blamed, but look at how quickly tickets for Oasis, Taylor Swift, and Glastonbury sell out despite their staggering prices.
Perhaps it comes down to accessibility. Music and dance are consistently at our fingertips; how do we spend our Friday nights if not at parties, clubs, or bars? Dancing and singing are part of the routine. But theatre often feels more elusive, something you have to seek out in formal spaces.
In my mind, this, at least in part, stems from how drama is taught in schools. If students mostly experience their theatrical education sitting at a desk, reading and analysing text without any practical exploration, how can we expect them to fully appreciate it as a practical art form? A child in a state school might never have a single practical drama class, while private schools often provide extensive theatrical opportunities and facilities that are comparable to those of professional drama schools and conservatories. If there is no access to hands-on learning of the craft, we risk young people viewing theatre as a magical talent that only a few possess, rather than a skill that can be learned, or something that is only created for and by the privileged few.
This is not only about offering young people equal opportunities to enter the arts, but also about allowing them to appreciate theatre and reap the benefits from it. If we know that theatre has the power to change lives in prisons and rehabilitation centres, why wouldn’t we integrate these tools earlier in life? Sidelining practical drama in education deprives students of one of the oldest and most effective methods of learning. Imagine the impact if we taught young people the emotional resilience, communication skills, and sense of community that theatre fosters from the start. Not only might these lessons help prevent many of the issues we later try to remedy through intervention, but they could also create a society of more well-rounded individuals capable of empathy, collaboration, and creative thinking.
Anyway, there’s my Saturday afternoon 50 cents. I’m off to the theatre.
I’ve attached some links to interesting books and articles on the subject so you can get some real expert opinions too.
(Bridget Phillipson, if you’ve somehow found yourself on this page in the middle of a long night of weird internet searches (we’ve all been there, don’t worry) I look forward to your announcement of a new policy prioritising drama in all state schools.)
- "Theatre for Change: Education, Social Action and Therapy" by Stephen J. Tisdall and Kevin D. Ashford
- "Performing the Community: Theatre as a Tool for Social Change" by Suzy Willson
- "Balancing Acts" by Nicholas Hytner
- "Engaging Students Through Drama: The Benefits of Practical Drama in Schools" - Drama Research Journal
- "Staging a Revolution: Can Theatre Be an Effective Form of Activism?" by Lyn Gardner (The Guardian).
06/09/2024
An Introduction and an Ode to The Artist's Way
I never imagined I’d be writing this. For those who know me well, this might seem like a quarter-life crisis. People who have known me since school know that my worst-ever nightmare was having anyone read anything I had written (ever, ever, ever!). Yet, here I am. Trust me, I’m the most surprised.
If things had been different, I’d have dismissed this urge as an intrusive thought and slammed the door shut on it. But it came at a time when I was stuck in a creative rut.
After finishing a teaching contract at Rose Bruford in June, I hit a wall. The last few years have been non-stop: moving to London, completing my master’s, directing my first play, and assisting on shows, and culminating with six months back at my old university, working with the brilliant BA Acting students at Rose Bruford South West.
But by June, I was burned out, working two minimum-wage jobs. If there was a creative bone left in my body, it probably looked like a dried-up prune.
Despite a summer of fun, my “adulting detox”, I still felt uninspired. I even flirted (very briefly) with the idea of a non-creative pursuit, half-heartedly sending out some job applications, all while knowing, deep down, that this wasn’t me.
A friend, tired of my moaning, suggested I read The Artist’s Way, a book by Julia Cameron about overcoming creative blocks. Skeptical (I’m all for therapy, but a self-help book for artists... come now), but desperate, I gave it a go.
One of the principles of The Artist's Way is a daily practice of “morning pages”, three pages first thing in the morning of whatever’s on my mind.
Perhaps the motivation to write came more from procrastinating getting out on a run, but I’ve kept it up, religiously writing out three pages of blurry 6 a.m. thoughts every morning. Nine weeks in, I re-read some of these ramblings. Amongst the rants, worries, and gossip, I found moments of genuine creative thought. Those early-morning scribbles sparked something in me, and I started writing more. For the first time in months, I felt “in flow.” Encouraged by my closest friends and sister, I’ve decided to share some of these thoughts here.
I’m not sure what this will become, likely a mix of creative musings and the occasional self-reflection. It’ll be messy and sporadic, I’m not promising any great insights, but I hope it’ll be thoughtful and maybe even a bit entertaining.
While I know my readership is unlikely to extend beyond my mum and a handful of loyal friends, should you find yourself here and inspired enough to want to comment on anything, feel free to drop me an email via the contact bit on the main page (Mum, you can just text me).