So Liz Mills and I rehearse Drive With Me at the amazing Theatre Arts Admin Collective (I have no idea how Caroline Calburn manages that totally crazy schedule) and for the last week we have been spending each morning in the Minor Hall. It is a beautiful space, with a huge vaulted ceiling and gorgeous light through massive church windows. It is also relatively private.

Except for the man. There is a man who works for the church (the premises are on the Methodist Church in Obz) and every odd day or so he opens an internal door, shambles through, unlocks a weird storeroom, goes out the main door of the venue leaving it open, comes back, fetches the vacuum, opens another door, limps through noisily with a cup of tea. This would all be ok, if not a little irritating IF he ever acknowledged us. But he doesn’t. It is literally as if we do not exist. It would be funny if it wasn’t so utterly creepy.

Now Drive With Me is a little odd (if not creepy) and having this man entirely ignore me, and us, is the strangest feeling in the whole world.