Does life actually get any better?

No seriously. Does it? The only thing that would make my day better would be if I was eating some chocolate right now. Oh and if maybe I had lost a dress size. And had a few more Parisian clothes. But that's it. Tonight was Peter Brook. It was an open rehearsal of his latest production 'Eleven, Twelve'. The idea was that they would do something entirely different to in the rehearsal room and we would discuss it afterwards. But let me start at the beginning. I'm stood in the hallway waiting to go in. Peter Brook has just walked past, which was only less impressive because i'd walked past him earlier that day at school. And then from nowhere a small Japanese man walks past. Yes, you guessed it, he's the one in the picture. And I turn to my fellow student next to me and I say 'NO. Is that Yoshi Oida?' A look of blankness. 'I think it must be, it really looked like him and he's done loads of work with Peter Brook, he's been a bit of a mentor to Yoshi.' I then go on to explain in actor terms who he is. I won't do that here, you can research him if you wish to know more. He is a Japanese actor whose book I own and love called 'The Invisible Actor' It's about his training, he started off in 'Noh' theatre, a Japanese theatre style. His life and training has been fascinating and this year I got to see him perform in a Complicite/Japanese production and he was incredible. I was star struck. Couldn't believe my luck. He just watched, like us. And I spent a lot of my time watching him. Infinately watchable is how I would describe him. He has a presence like God. I imagine. 

But back to the main point. I was lucky enough to witness one of our greatest Theatre practitioners at work. Well he sat silently and observed but it was his rehearsal work. Afterwards he wanted our input. No one spoke. No one even breathed. Who was going to be the first to offer Peter Brook an opinion? I mean honestly. And it was awkward. And silent. And then someone asked a question about their working process. And another. And another. And then Peter once again asked for views. Not questions. Three more questions followed. And then someone had the guts to offer a reflection. It was merely an expression of affection. Followed by another. Now we were warming up. Brains had come out of their frozen state of shock. We were ready to start talking about what we liked, what didn't work for us that night. And. The woman organising it all told him to wrap it up. And that was that. Our creative input stunted before it had even started. So the point in his visit? No idea. The piece? A work in progress and therefore impossible to give a proper review but fragmented. Thought provoking. Fast and moving in points. Slow, boring and incomprehensible in others.

And everyone got up and people went to speak to Peter Brook. And then I saw Yoshi, on his own. I did what only uncool Hannah could do. I went and spoke to him with nothing to say. My opening line? 'How exactly do I pronounce your name because I am pretty sure i've been saying it wrong.' 'Yo-shi O-iy-da' 'Ahh, i've been telling people about you and doing you a disservice all this time. I saw you at the Barbican this year.' 'I am going to be doing another Simon McBurney there next November.' 'Another Japanese piece?' 'Yes' 'Oh wow, well I'll be there. I read your book. 'The Invisible Actor' and I found it very inspiring. In fact, you're one of the reasons I'm at Lecoq. You and Peter Brook.' He nodded and smiled. I froze. I'd gone over blind and I had nothing left. So I walked off. With a 'It was nice to meet you.' Oh dear. Luckily, before I could go any further I decided to not go and speak to Peter Brook. Finally the lesson has sunk in, if you don't have anything in mind to say, don't go and speak to them. And then predictably in the tube all the things I would like to ask Yoshi Oida about presented themselves. But you know what? I think i'll get the chance again. I'm beginning to believe that anything can happen and everyone is close at hand. So far all my idols have presented themselves to me without any encouragement except maybe a wish that one day, maybe. 

So other than a star struck moment with a Japanese actor none of you have heard of, what made tonight so great? Hard to pin point. Realisation of a few dreams, an opportunity to be with one of the biggest theatre practitioners of the last decade (before he dies - he's 83), some inspiring moments for me to do with the theatre I wish to create, a free night of theatre and the conversation with the actors afterwards. Namely Tunji, the Londoner who is in Peter Brooks current production from a random workshop he stumbled across in London. Un trained. Fresh. Homesick. Having the experience of a lifetime but not fully realising it yet. Not in an ungrateful way, just in the great way of an actor who doesn't think or read to much into the bullshit side of it. He just does it. And he lands a job with the biggest theatre director. Without thinking. 

And most interesting of all was our conversation about racism in Paris. Mainly because as a black born and bred Londoner he says he has never felt it at home. And so far he's been to Paris which is hugely segregated and Poland where people spat at the path in front of him (both whilst working on this job). But racism in Paris is a conversation for another night.

Tonight we talk of dreams.