Twice the Play

Before entering fangirl mode, small thoughts about watching the same play more than once (in this case, Labour of Love): I am so impressed by the effort they put into it every single night. By the second time, it was easy to spot the differences from the first, the comparison in execution for various scenes, and moreover gain a further understanding of the play’s intention and actual meaning. It helped a lot too that I had read almost all of the script by the subsequent time, but of course, it will still take a while to figure out the meanings what with the British slang and all. Which is alright by me.

All in all, these actors and actresses are amazing. I cannot imagine being on stage myself at this point, but it does inspire and motivate me to work more on my ambitions. The beauty about the arts and entertainment is that there are so many fields covered, from books to on-screen shows to theatres. And my eyes have certainly opened to the latter.

My endless thanks to Kwong Loke, for his insights on the theatre scene in the world and particularly Malaysia during the little time that we conversed on four of the nights I met him. It was such a pleasant surprise to find out that he indeed was as I suspected, a Malaysian. The truth fueled my desire to make a name for our beloved country with my could-be achievements.

And now, on to the fangirl note because I have never thought myself lucky to meet a big-time celebrity until today: Martin Freeman, in point form.

  1. After four nights of no sight, I was beginning to think it wasn’t going to happen at all, especially when the fifth day started out cold and rainy.
  2. Though on the fourth night, when I met Mr. Loke once again, I managed to ask him to pass on the little note card that I made for Mr. Freeman (just a thank-you letter inside a white/silver origami envelope). He passed it to the stage door to do the favour for me. At this point, I believed that, even if I don’t see Mr. Freeman, at least the card will get to him.
  3. When I came out after the play, the stage door was insanely crowded. Which is fine, I thought, because I just want to see Mr. Loke one more time, since it was also the last night in London for me.
  4. Wait…a security guard is posting himself out here. There was never a security guard during the last four nights.
  6. Patience, I was at the only way out, he would come to this side eventually.
  7. Everyone in front was done. He was starting to turn back. That was okay, he would turn back, I thought to myself. (At this point I realized how deep my problem is, where I never chased after the best but satisfied myself with the good. I had learned before how important it is to always seek improvement, but it appears that I have yet to become better at it. For this, I am repenting.)
  8. HE TURNED BACK AGAIN. He signed my book, the very last one that had yet to. Then my friend pulled up her camera for the picture, which had me standing right next to Mr. Freeman. Even tentatively shuffled closer because I felt like it would be a sin to invade his personal space, because that is what celebrities seem to need sometimes.
  9. Managed to ask about the card. It went something like this: “Did you get my card?” “What does it look like?” “It’s white, with silver…sparkles. (tried describing with my fingers, unconsciously) I gave it to the stage door–” “Was it today?” “No, yesterday.” “Oh, (he tapped my arm! sorry, I know, ridiculous fangirl) was it the small one?” “Yes!” “Yeah, I got it.”
  10. And I know he read it because, “Your English is very good.” “Really?” “Really, really good. (at this point I can’t remember if he said anything else because I was busy thanking him ever gleefully) Thank you so much.” This is where I wish I remember what I wrote exactly in the letter, but I am so thrilled to hear this compliment from him. Even if English has always been my first language, being bilingual and sometimes trilingual makes it difficult to be absolutely perfect at it.
  11. I didn’t want to leave, but I had to. But he did also say “bye” to us, and a part of me just…died, for a lack of better word.

Picture is on Instagram. Thank you again, Mr. Freeman, for being an inspiration. Because of this experience, I am going to work twice as hard to achieve my dreams.

Goodbye, London, you have been a great inspiration and motivation. I hope to return very soon.

On to Birmingham.

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