The evening started with everyone taking their seats in the auditorium. A recorded voice made the usual mobile phone announcement, but in a fashion more sinister than usual. It was followed by the deadly reassuring voice of Artistic Director Gemma Bodinetz, at once soothing and ominous, assuring us that we would all be safe. This is the theatrical equivalent of the Prime Minister declaring his confidence in a cabinet minister, we just know s/he is for the chop; and Gemma’s announcement made us all feel deliciously on edge while of course being reassured. The disembodied voice continued, setting up an interesting tension which made me feel like I was in one of those films where we hear the ante mortem voice of the dearly departed read the will and tell me that because I am so vile I won’t get a penny, unless I knock off a policeman’s hat or something. Quite delicious. Around this, or rather interrupting it, introduced by it and so on, characters appeared, established themselves and their object, and whisked off a section of the audience to who knows where. This was so intriguing it made we want to go on every journey and hear every story. I sat clutching my milk bottle wondering when it was my turn but knew my number was up when a milkman arrived. I iz a genius. And off we went.

'if you take me on a theatrical walk to, say, the site of Josephine Butler house and the first Radium Institute in the UK, I sort of want to hear about Josephine Butler, or radium, or at least the Pub opposite'

Our journey was backstage and out onto Arrad Street at the back of the theatre, and our milkman was the same Paul McCleary who was so excellent last week as the father in ’Tis Pity. His milkman was searching for something in his past in order to put it right, only to find…Well, I won’t tell you the end. But Paul’s performance is compelling, and when he asks you to help him on his quest you really want to; beyond that you really want to enjoy his story. Our walk was a bit of an expedition and I enjoyed it, having remembered to wear sensible shoes. It was odd though that all of the references (to Bold Street, to Maghull, to Southport) were to somewhere we weren’t. Perhaps it’s corny, but if you take me on a theatrical walk to, say, the site of Josephine Butler house and the first Radium Institute in the UK, I sort of want to hear about Josephine Butler, or radium, or at least the Philharmonic Pub opposite, and not the building of the Mersey Tunnel. It is perhaps fine that Back Canning Street stands in for Maghull, but at least transport me there by telling me about Maghull’s similarly cobbled streets. It was as if the writer had found out Four Interesting Things About Merseyside and wanted to get them all in, regardless of the site, or had sulked when the director had said Bold Street was too far and refused to rewrite the reference. At least make the milkman’s round a local round! Really, he could have told us about delivering milk to the Hahnemann Institute or a yoghurt to Blackburne House. As it was, these stories could have been told via radio, or in a room, or even in the comfort of a nice theatre just up the road. In addition, there was a lot of walking with very little theatrical business; Paul McCleary adlibbed a little to keep us going but it was hard to walk down familiar streets, past familiar buildings and sometimes familiar people and try to be blinkered off from them. And of course then you ask, well, why be here at all if I’m trying to shut it out?

Listening through headphones presented an additional dimension. It had an isolating affect which, on the positive side, felt very intimate, as if your actor was talking directly to you alone. It meant too though that you missed the communal aspect of theatre – for instance when you laughed, you weren’t sure if anyone else was laughing. I fear that was inhibiting and meant a difficult ride for the actors. Nonetheless it was an interesting experience and it would be great if a company like Slunglow were able to further develop their understanding of how to exploit this with an audience.

The story was gripping on the whole, and there were some moments that almost had me in tears; as you know, I am a sentimental soul. The writing, while a little fragmented, was lyrical in parts and avoided cliché, and you did want to stay with it. There were some fabulous theatrical moments which I won’t tell you in case you see it (no spoilers here!), and of course, as always with offsite pieces, some fun serendipity where the outside world intersects with the theatrical moment (such as the student who stopped our milkie to ask where the Quarter restaurant was!). I wasn’t sure why some things in the script happened and some of the message was a little trite, but it was well done and I enjoyed it.

Over all then not the best show in the world and I have to question why it was offsite and done in a promenade fashion at all, but it was exciting and I heartily applaud the Everyman and Slunglow for attempting such an ambitious project. It is indeed, as Artistic Director Gemma said in her after show speech, in the spirit of her antecedents such as Ken Campbell. It is only a pity they aren’t doing all seven plays back to back in a Warp-like marathon over the weekend, I really would like to see them all but seven nights out when you are mum to a #smallgirl is pushing it. Can someone go and see the rest for me and tell me what they’re like?