Parnam House, West Sussex

In fair Verona where we lay our scene... or in this case: PARHAM HOUSE

Gorgeous rolling hills shield Parham House from the gaudier sights of East Sussex. Oh dear, listen to me, I’m beginning to sound like a pensioner on a National Trust tour. But this is very pretty indeed. Are we really only an hour or so from London? Our performance space is at the rear of an artistically chopped-up mansion — the sort of thing Thomas Hardy would set his final chapter in. Powder-grey stone all ribboned with ivy, a kindly statue of St Nicholas and cheeky cherubs minding the entrance. Opposite the stage there is a genuine St Peter’s church. Hurrah — all the wedding business finally makes sense.

It’s almost like we’re performing in a giant, green football stadium, surrounded by fields and, yes, more ha-ha’s. Beyond the ha-ha’s, muntjacs and deer parade diagonally, occasionally breaking out into faux battles. There’s definitely something about these outdoor performances that bring out your inner beast.

The feeling of ‘doing Shakespeare’ for the chattering crowds returns, but it’s helpful to have been away to Europe to understand the difference Because now we have an obstacle: to make the audience sit up, pay attention and become imaginatively involved with the story. Oh dear, I sound like a fascist. But it’s healthy, I think, for actors to want to provoke the audience.

The costumes are surviving somehow. The absence of saturation helps. Ruth, our costume supervisor/angel, sits with Mercutio’s shoes on her feet and white-polishes them to a snowy white sheen.

We’re treated to the most beautiful sunset ever: lilac cushions of cloud, bounced upon by angry orange arcs, torn through with bolts of golden sunshine. In the evening a plane drags a glider through the sky, and sets it free in front of us. The things we put together, this human race…outdoor Shakespeare and flying machines. Who would’ve imagined.

The slow dawning that our tour is on its final leg has arrived. I have died roughly 104 times. None of us want to think about the end just yet. Not that we’re in the throes of separation anxiety, but I do think that after all this travel, our Romeo & Juliet deserves some bonus midnight matinees at the Globe.

Feel free to inundate the artistic director if you agree...

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