Pummelled, panting and perfectly knackered I was at the end of a week of discovery, frustration, occasional (well, actually rather frequent) humiliation, mime, song, music playing, laughing, dancing, running, shouting, and crying. WHAT a week. I've mimed visiting a house overflowing with bananas, umbrellas, monkeys, toffees and corpses (not a word of a lie), told the story of a man who meets a sticky end in a hilarious way and a god who turns into a horse and back into a god again, shot an arrow, seen some moments of true, stinging inspiration, and found out that I tell stories best when I'm prancing about. Phew!
I also got my hands on Song In-Zob's Folk Tales from Korea, in which I haven't yet found a dud story out of more than 50 read so far, and an unremittingly interesting book on Ancient Chinese storytelling traditions - masters, apprentices, epic tragedies and lots of tea.
Drinking and eating and watching stories. Swap the tea for wine and it sounds rather too much like my idea of Heaven. Boot camp (6 professionals, one breathtakingly beautiful prodigy, and...er...little old me) can't put me off. Nooooo. Quite the opposite. I'll regret I said that one day, when I'm old and grey. But you know what they say - tell a tale, come what may! Well, actually it might just be me who says that.