So it’s a rainy Saturday lunch time and Phoebe and I go out to get a £3 Tesco meal deal to cram in our break before rehearsals continue for the afternoon. Like most Saturdays, Scarlett has decided not to join us because she has carrot sticks and hummus. Its safe to say I will feel even more unhealthy than usual when I return with my two different types of iced latte and an arm full of e-numbers, but this won’t stop me for now. Having skirted around McDonald’s resisting great temptation, we return to the Oxford Playhouse, the venue in which we plan to perform Doctor Faustus by the end of the month and to the stair case that leads us up to the rehearsal room on the second floor. It’s on the way up I rub my abdomen and frown.
‘Are you okay?’ Phoebe asks. I smile and tell her I’m fine.
‘Just a bit of indigestion I think.’
Cut to a bar in York, where I am staying for the weekend, cramming lines for the production of Doctor Faustus while I wait for my partner to join. Its nice to see a message from Phoebe and she’s being super helpful sending me all the cuts that I left on a script back in Oxford. But its even better that she’s always willing to offer advice to friends when they need it.
‘Did you know…’ she says in a text ‘That coffee helps with constipation.’
I think about this for a while. I did know that it happened to be a laxative, but it really wasn’t the did you know trivia that I was expecting.
‘I did know that.’ I replied. ‘Are you, um… having trouble?’
‘no, no. you said, yesterday on the stairs. You were constipated.’
I wanted to make it completely clear at this point that I wasn’t constipated and if I were I’m not sure it’s the kind of thing I would have sprung on Phoebe who was – at this point – not very well known by me or vice versa. Phoebe was embarrassed and I suppose I was too, retrospectively anyway. We laughed about it. I laughed a lot more than someone should when they are sitting alone in a bar surrounded by York’s finest academics.
None the less, whether that story makes you laugh or maybe want to cry a little, it’s how we came up with our name and how Phoebe and I became the friends we are now. So when Scarlett, Phoebe and I were sitting on a video call, talking about some sort of way to raise money for the Oxford Playhouse, Creatively Constipated was the name we had decided on. Still laughing, and still cringing… just a little bit.
And that really is what it’s all about. The Oxford Playhouse provided such a fantastic space, that when the Coronavirus became a world spread pandemic and all the theatres were shut down, it was a space that none of us would ever take for granted again. We never got to perform Dr Faustus and our life line of creativity was suddenly null and void. Phoebe was back home in Kent and just like that it was all over.
Here at Creatively Constipated we believe that the arts of any sort are so important for so many people. Even if you don’t take part in anything creative, how much time have you spent watching Netflix or Freeview over the past three months of lock down? How many jobs are provided by the entertainment industry as a whole but no less than theatres. Theatres just like the Oxford Playhouse.
So we ask you. Donate. If you have a theatre that is close to your heart, like so many people do, then see what you can do for that venue. But if you are unsure where to look, then look no further than this site. We are raising money for the playhouse with a GoFundMe and your help could make all the difference to our cause.
~Tom~









