Walking the dog today I habitually snapped away at the stunning scenery, eye-wateringly yellow rapeseed fields against cartoon-blue Simpsons sky; monochrome dog in clear waters.

I automatically looked at what I’d snapped, pressed ‘enhance’, mucked about with it for 20 seconds, achieved the effect that I wanted and posted the resulting images. One on Twitter and one on Instagram.

I know the FX that I like. I use them a lot. I know the effect that I want to achieve and I can do it in a matter of seconds – we all can.

But today, I stopped for a bit longer than usual and allowed the thought that I have every time I do this (apart from the first few times when I mainly thought ‘this is brilliant!’) to swim round in my head just a little bit longer than usual. The thought that says:

Why not just post the truth?

I’m guilty of skim reading stuff and for getting half-arsed ideas for half-formed plays from my hastily absorbed surface knowledge. That’s how I’ve stumbled through the past 20 years or so as an actor/cleaner of british gas vending machines/waitress/director/Animateur/writer/visual artist/blagger.

But sometimes something sticks and I heard someone say something on the radio the other day (see?) that went something like:

“Is there a danger in all this enhancement?  Are we seeing the world through rose-tinted spectacles. What about when we take them off? Are we in for a huge disappointment?” etc. etc.

(I’m pretty sure someone will point out to me who said this and what they actually said, but this was definitely the gist.)

And on the same day, on the same radio, I heard the song by Paloma Faith: “Do You Want The Truth or Something Beautiful?”  - and it seemed to my cherry-picking brain that these two sentiments were the same thing and chimed with my increasing low level stress about the pressure to present the enhanced image along with the Twitter and Facebook polished nuggets.

So I got to the point – as I am here – and thought:

What if I ask people, just for a day perhaps, to post the truth.  True Twitter and Facebook updates and unenhanced photographs.  We could call it #TheTruth and take it from there.

We can all debate what the truth really is and how our cameraphones don’t take a true image anyway and how we only want to put the interesting stuff up because why would we think people want to read the mundane stuff (and we all know what a barrel of shite THAT is)…

And I’m a huge fan of social media used well. I use it for all sorts of reasons and am the first to underline it’s benefits by taking an immediate, vague and defensive stance to anyone who suggests it may be a waste of time…

But I do think there’s a debate to be had about The Truth.

So I’d just like to try it. See where it goes. You in?

#TheTruth.

For many of the young audience members, Mike Kenny’s version of Jack and the Beanstalk will be their first experience of the theatre – lucky them.

Mike Kenny always leaves room for imaginations to flourish -  he never patronises his audience, he just tells a darn good story, with enviable wit and skill, but I think Mike and director Gail McKintyre, had their work cut out tackling Jack & The Beanstalk. It’s a pretty linear story, and it’s so well known.  Take the panto elements out (as is the tradition for the WYP Christmas Show) and what’s left?

A stroke of pure genius, that’s what.

From the moment we meet 4 people-sized chickens scratching about in the foyer (Beyonce, Rhianna, Gaga and Leona… ) to the realisation that these chickens were to be our storytellers (“and then THIS happened…”) squawking, singing and dancing their way through the plot, as well as doubling for all the characters, we knew we knew we were in safe hands – and that, to me, is the key.

Chickens are hilarious at the best of times (I used to keep them as a kid and spent hours mimicking them – not a lot to do on a farm on the Isle of Wight) and choosing to tell the story from their point of view is inspired.  And the 4 actor-musicians who play the chickens are mesmerising.  As my 10 year old put it:

‘being a chicken for 2 hours takes great perseverance’

I can only look on in awe.

And Jack… oh Jack.! Nathan McMullen is really superb.  One of those actors you just can’t take your eyes off. His Jack is a bit player in the story of his own life, ageless, understated, completely reactive, naive and very, very funny.  Kung-fu kicking the chickens to keep them at a distance, slow motion dancing whilst dying in a frying pan, – I seriously had to laugh a lot less than I wanted to for fear of looking like some sort of shrieking harridan.

I love Mike Kenny’s work, I always have – as a director, a writer, and leader of several youth theatres, I sit very firmly in his camp -   it’s all about the story, how you choose to tell that story and how complicit you make the audience in the telling of that story.  Mike Kenny’s version of Jack & The Beanstalk has it all, as far as I’m concerned…  and Gail McKintyre’s direction gives us strong and simple physicality, (the giant arrives on stilts – bigger than the other characters, which is all that is needed – and hilarious into the bargain), beautifully simple but magical shadow play, catchy songs and the necessary participatory dancing. Thank you for that – we did dance, and we laughed so much.

I could go an about this show all day. But suffice to say it was a gorgeous slice of story telling, the audience I was part of that day loved it (including my 10 year old and 7 year old sons who have written their own reviews here)  – I’ve since heard that it got some rubbish reviews, that people don’t ‘get it’. I find that astounding – who are these people?  Certainly not the target audience. Certainly not anyone who understands that good theatre, nay, excellent theatre, is simply about story telling with a twist, about letting the audience fill in the gaps, about entertaining whilst leaving room for you to take part in the way you want to… and, in this case… about putting five brilliant actors on the stage and letting them do their job.

I haven’t even mentioned the beanstalk – I don’t want to spoil it.  But Designer Barney George knows how to make an entire auditorium gasp!

Just go and see it.

My 7 year old son is growing his hair. His fringe is at that awkward in-between stage (exactly the same as mine at the moment) – the bit before it get’s long enough to tuck behind his ear. The bit where it’s getting in his eyes and on his nerves (exactly the same as mine at the moment).

So far so straightforward.

So he asked for one of my snap-on hair clips to help keep his fringe out of his eyes, the way it keeps mine out of mine.

He loves the result  - it ticks all the necessary ‘growing out your fringe’ boxes: his hair continues to grow, it stays out of his eyes in the meantime and it gives him a new look, depending on exactly how he decides to wear the clip.

So why the dull story?

I think you probably know.

“OOOO look at the pretty boy”

“MINCE pies eh? Mince… geddit?”

“Helloooo Sailor!!!”

… these responses are from members of our family.

So my son says to me:

“What do they mean?”

So I’ve told him what they mean and he has decided to a) buy some hairclips of his own and b) start a blog and it’s going to be called (and I know this because I’ve seen the title because it’s written huge in his new Christmas Notebook) “WHY CAN’T BOY’S WHERE HAIRCLIPS?”

And I am asking the same question.

http://www.newcastlegateshead.com/winter-festival/enchanted-parks/the-artists/echo-funnel

Enchanted Parks, now in its 5th year, is an innovative after-dark outdoor arts experience developed and co-commissioned by NewcastleGateshead Initiative and Gateshead Council and produced by Magnetic Events as part of the annual NewcastleGateshead Winter Festival.

Enchanted Parks has taken place in Saltwell Park in Gateshead since December 2007 and the event has grown year-on-year with audiences of over 14,000 expected in 2011. It is a sellout every year.

Adrian’s artist’s impression of the Echo Funnel (I love this drawing)

I’m immensely proud of this project… myself and collaborator Adrian Riley dreamt up the Echo Funnel on one of our many recent lengthy journey’s across the Yorkshire Moors and the Parks commisioned us to realise the idea. We then took our idea to the brilliant and highly skilled Scott Thompson (a freelance prop-maker who works out of Q-Division) and I mumbled words like ‘elves’ and ‘patina’ and ‘you know, magical’ – and this is what we collectively came up with.

Here’s a sneaky peak at the beauteous object…

Scott’s realisation of the idea. 

And it’s full of unexpected treats… you’ll have to come and stand next to it to fully realise what it’s capable of… trust me, it’ll be worth it…

… you can book tickets and come and experience this performance/art project here: http://www.newcastlegateshead.com/winter-festival/enchanted-parks/book-now