'Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none,' Act I, Scene I, All's Well That Ends Well
One woman/man shows are always hit and miss. If you don’t like the main character then that’s it. And when a shrieking Jemima Foxtrot entered centre stage I kind of wished that I had ear plugs, but the twinkle in her eye made me stay – I felt like she had more to give and after ten minutes she’d roped us in. Her swaying backwards and forwards between threads of a story on a rocking boat with the echoes of her voice looped around the room underneath her words was captured and sustained the audience’s interest. She enchanted with tales of her childhood, catching a fish called a f’ocker and falling in love with the salty sea air that lingered on her lovers lips. It was a story spoken by a brutally honest romantic with the tone of childhood mischief sewn between every snippet of her tales. About half way in she stripped off into a red swimming costume and stayed in her new outfit for the remainder of the show, in spite of the snowy conditions outside and the fact that her loop pedal was refusing to play back some of the beautiful ferryman’s songs that she had sung. It was a wintry night, and Jemima Foxtrot’s enthusiasm and warmth for life, growing up and the heat that still emanates from childhood memories were enough to keep us all warm during her hour long performance. Her spirit was fierce and she was a beautiful demonstration of the possibilities of story-telling beyond the words. Of storytelling with layers and textures and mistakes; story-telling that recounts the story in all its glory with the slips and trips too. A visceral and inspiring show.