I Thought I Was Only the Driver

A day with the Actcessible Outreach Team at Portland College

Normally, my part in an Actcessible outreach day is fairly straightforward: deliver the people and the props, disappear, then come back later to collect everything. Today, at Portland College in Mansfield, I got to see what happens in between.

My day with Actcessible actually began the evening before.

On Sunday, Robbie, Jo and I packed the car with the props needed for Monday’s performances and workshops. Once everything was squeezed in, Robbie joined me for a walk around the block to add a little more distance to my 500 Mile Challenge.

Then, at 7.45 on Monday morning, Robbie and Heather arrived – bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Well, almost.

And we were off to Portland College.

A different sort of Monday morning – arriving at Portland College in Mansfield.

Normally, this is where my involvement in an outreach day begins to wind down. I drop off the crew and props and head home until I’m needed again for the pack-away and return journey.

Today was different.

I was on the DBS safeguarding list and had been invited to stay for the whole day – saving fuel and, probably just as importantly, saving the driver from doing the journey twice.

When we arrived, Robbie disappeared to find out where we needed to be while Heather and I unloaded the car onto the pavement. As he returned, I headed off again, this time to Mansfield station to collect Adoria and Grace.

Passengers delivered, car parked, I finally joined everyone in the theatre.

And what a theatre.

The stage still taking shape before the audience arrived.

It was a beautiful space and much larger than I had expected.

I was immediately made welcome and given the privilege of sitting in the wings for the first performance. From there I couldn’t actually see the show, so for me The Sword in the Stone became something of a radio play.

But what a soundtrack. Laughter. Cheers. Boos. It was magic to my ears.

From my position at the side, I could also observe something audiences don’t necessarily see: just how much goes into making an Actcessible performance happen.

The team had travelled from different directions, coordinated with one another, unloaded, changed into costume, set the scene and liaised with the Portland staff, who were excellent – welcoming, supportive and appreciative.

The performers prepared themselves vocally, physically and mentally – not simply to perform a script, but to perform it for this particular audience, in this particular place, on this particular day.

That distinction matters.

Actcessible’s performances are designed with flexibility built in. Scripts are chosen and adapted to the needs of different audiences and situations. Rehearsals aren’t simply about learning lines and knowing where to stand. They include how to respond when something unexpected happens, how to involve people, and how to make sure everyone has the opportunity to be part of the experience.

At Portland, the production was The Sword in the Stone, an adaptation in which Braille plays an important part in revealing the secret to the kingdom.

Good inevitably triumphs, but the story carries another message too: bad behaviour is not right, but behaving badly doesn’t necessarily mean someone is a bad person. Arthur ultimately becomes the gracious and wise king we expect him to be and, naturally, everyone lives happily ever after.

Except that wasn’t the end.

After a break came a forty-minute interactive workshop.

A walk in the woods

Robbie had warned me that the workshops can be somewhat full-on. The Actcessible Outreach Team have specialist training for working in these environments, whereas my particular qualifications extend mainly to driving, carrying things and occasionally being useful.

So I took the hint and went for lunch and a walk.

And that turned out to be one of the unexpected pleasures of the day.

Portland has a wonderful Woodland Walk, with an adventure playground, zip wire, dens, camps and donkeys.

I concentrated mainly on the quieter wildlife.

One of the activity areas tucked away amongst Portland’s woodland.

Autumn was putting on its own performance. There were trees and ferns, fallen leaves and some extraordinary fungi covering the woodland floor.

I strolled around at a gentle pace and, quite frequently, at no pace whatsoever. There was simply too much worth stopping to look at.

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Some of the extraordinary fungi putting on their own autumn show.

And, yes, I found the donkeys.

One of Portland’s four resident donkeys – but this isn’t cheeky Max, who was hiding behind a tree.

After lunch I met up with the team again and chatted with a lovely member of staff called Amy. She told me how much she enjoyed working at Portland. She had once left to work somewhere else, but missed the atmosphere so much that she soon came back.

She also told me the names of the four donkeys. All four names begin with M. I can remember precisely one of them. Max. I wonder why.

This time, I got to see the show

Amy gave me permission to join the audience for the second performance.

So this time I got to see the show as well as hear it – and really experience the crackle of excitement in the room.

Before it began, though, I had the opportunity to watch the Portland staff at work. They were remarkable.

Every student was treated with care, understanding and compassion, but what particularly struck me was the staff’s personal and professional knowledge of the people they were supporting.

Some students were given sheets showing pictures of the characters they were about to meet. Others were reassured that the performance wouldn’t be too noisy. A few were quietly told in advance that they would be able to cheer and boo – but that was a secret until everyone else was told once the show began.

These weren’t grand gestures. They were small, thoughtful adjustments based upon knowing the individual. And they made participation possible.

Before the performance I also got talking to three super young men. They wanted to know what was going to happen and, importantly, what part I played in all this.

They seemed suitably impressed when I explained that I was the driver. I’d brought people and props all the way to their college for 9.30 that morning and then gone to the station to collect another two members of the team who had arrived by train.

They particularly liked the fact that Actcessible had come specifically to their college that day and had chosen to spend the whole day there.

I told them I’d probably be asleep when I got home because, as they knew better than anyone, spending a whole day at college can be exhausting.

Then our conversation took an unexpected turn. One of the young men told me that he had been on stage once. He hadn’t liked it because he’d been scared. However, he said, it was important to face your fears and step outside your comfort zone. But your fears don’t go away.

Those were his words, not mine.

Then the third chap chipped in: “But if you do something often enough, it becomes less scary.”

I went to Portland expecting to help Actcessible with an outreach day. I hadn’t expected to come away with another piece of motivation for my own 500 Mile Challenge.

Cheers, boos and a standing ovation

The show began with Arthur and Morgan le Fay being introduced to the appropriate chorus of cheers and boos.

The slapstick inevitably produced some of the biggest laughs. It was also fascinating to see how different people found different things to enjoy in the performance.

One of my new acquaintances gave the cast a standing ovation at the end and had numerous photographs taken with them.

The young man who had told me about being frightened on stage even joined the group for one photograph – before quickly retreating to join me at the back.

We agreed that we were both happier there.

Heather – fuelled, as every good outreach team member should be, by a well-earned cup of coffee.

Packing up – sort of

After performance number two, the students went for a break and the transformation began again.

Heather and I – well, mostly Heather, with me getting in the way – started packing everything away.

The actors are responsible for making sure their costumes and props go into the correct trolley or bag. I deflated the rubber ring, helped dismantle the scenery frame and generally faffed around looking useful. Then Heather and I battled the drizzle to load everything back into the car.

When we returned, the workshops were in full flow.

There was British Sign Language (BSL), life-skills work, colouring pictures of the characters whilst chatting about the show and how it made you feel, and lots of opportunities to meet and interact with Arthur, Merlin, Harecules, Morgan le Fay and Splat.

And, whilst watching it all as an observer, something struck me.

Every interaction was different. Some were noisy and enthusiastic; others quieter and more tentative. The team adjusted, responded and met each person where they were. For me, each interaction was a microcosm of Actcessible’s guiding principle: Nobody left behind.

And then it was time to go home

Eventually, the workshops finished, we all waved goodbye to the students, we received lots of feedback from the staff (and a request to come back soon) and reluctantly it was time to leave.

Grace and Adoria had a train to catch, so I was back in my starring role as driver. Mansfield traffic behaved itself and I delivered them to the station with ten minutes to spare.

Then it was back to Portland to collect Robbie and Heather before retracing the morning’s journey. Home by 5.15pm.

People sometimes see a theatre performance and think of the hour or so that happens on stage. Today I saw the day around it.

The packing. The travelling. The unloading. The preparation. The adapting. The performing. The workshops. The conversations. The packing again. And finally the journey home.

But I saw something more important too. I saw a college where staff knew the people they supported as individuals. I saw performers who understood that inclusion isn’t about expecting everybody to experience something in exactly the same way. I saw how small adjustments can enable someone to participate rather than be left on the outside.

And I met three young men who, without knowing it, reminded a nearly 69-year-old man plodding his way towards 500 miles that stepping outside your comfort zone doesn’t necessarily mean you stop being frightened. Sometimes you just have to keep doing it until it becomes a little less scary.

Not a bad lesson to bring home from a day when I thought I was only the driver.