On Thursday the 3rd, four intrepid folk entered the gallery, not really sure what they were doing, but keen to get stuck in to a workshop into the unknown.
Without really knowing where this was going, and none of them having any previous experience of storytelling, they set about the story of red riding hood.
Tearing it to pieces, trying to find all the meaning, representations and archetypes within, they spent hours drinking tea, talking with passion, energy and enthusiasm.
After a time, they realised they’d rewritten the classic story in their own way, under their own terms.
In four parts, here it is.
Rich Hume wrote Part I, Chris Goode wrote Part II, David Allen wrote Part III and Jefh Davies wrote Part IV.
We hope you enjoy.
Red Charlie
Part I
Red Charlie – so called as she always wears a red hoodie; you can see where this is going.
Red Charlie’s Grandma lives alone, in a part of town know locally as millionaire’s row.
The grand, old house is covered in ivy, wisteria and climbing roses, se back behind a gravel drive, which actually has an exit, aswell as an entrance.
Charlie’s Mum tells her, one morning, to take some cakes to her Grandma’s.
“I’ll ring ahead, and let her know you’ll be there by lunchtime. Take the Main Road, don’t go down by the canal, and don’t – whatever you do – eat all the cakes, because you’ll be sick.”
Guess what – Charlie goes down by the canal, and spends time throwing rocks at the swans.
By and by, she gets hungry, and before she knows it, it’s 2pm and she’s eaten them all.
“Crikey, I’m late, and I’ve got no cake!” she says.
She runs toward the Main road, sick with worry, stomach churning at the thought of having to explain herself.
With the exertion of the sprinting, she gets to the Main road and vomits – all over the pavement – slumps to the floor and bursts into tears because not only is she late, and has no cake, and has been sick – but she’s got sick on her favourite red hoody.
Part II
Suddenly Charlie was aware of a smartly-dressed lady bending over her.
‘Can I help you, sweetie’, she asked.
‘Oh dear I’ve eaten granny’s cake and now I’ve been sick and EVERYTHING’s gone wrong’, said Charlie.
‘Oh goodness, how awful,’ said the smart lady. ‘But I know what we can do. Look, we’re just outside a cake shop. If I give you a pound, you can buy another cake and take that one to Granny instead. Where does your granny live, poppet?’
‘Oh – she lives at no. 5 Elite Street’, said Charlie.
‘Have you got a key to Granny’s house, my love?’
‘Yeeess,’ snivelled Charlie.
‘Well, I’ll tell you what’, said the lady. ‘I’ll go along to Granny’s house while you’re in the shop and tell her you’re coming and with a lovely cake too.’
Charlie felt a lot better, thanked the lady, and went to see what she could get in the cake shop.
The fine lady was already on her way to Granny’s house almost before Charlie had entered the shop. She adeptly fitted the key into Granny’s lock and entered the house.
‘Hello’, she said, ‘anyone there?’
‘Oh hello’, said a voice from the living room. ‘You must be the new carer from the agency.’
‘Yes, that’s right’, said the smart lady, as she entered the room to find a dear little old lady sitting on a sofa. ‘My name is Mrs Woolf, and I’m your new carer’. Her eyes lit up as she glanced around the room. Every surface was covered by dozens of precious ornaments, mostly of exquisite Chinese jade.
‘Nice to see you , Mrs Woolf’ , said Granny. ‘If you just pop into the kitchen to make us both a nice cup of tea, I’ll go to the loo to make myself more comfortable.’
As soon as Granny disappeared to the loo, the door slammed shut and a heavy chair was leaned against it. She was TRAPPED! Mrs Woolf looked around for a handy receptacle in which to stash THE LOOT.
Part III
Meanwhile… Charlie enters the cake-shop, having eaten the cakes her mum told her to take to her grandmother.
Charlie only has enough money to buy a really cheap cupcake – not so appealing! So, “I’ll have that posher cake away with myself,” she thinks to herself…
“Excuse me, young lady!” says the shopkeeper. “What do you think you’re doing? Come over here please!”
A shop assistant, on hearing the kerfuffle, comes out from the back room.
“I know that young lady,” she says. “Charlotte! You’d better explain yourself. I know your mother and your grandmother. I’m calling your mother!”
Part IV
Also meanwhile… back at Grandma’s house, Mrs Woolf can’t believe her luck, and is busy loading precious items of jade into a suitcase that she conveniently in the cupboard under the stairs, whilst ignoring the banging and shouting sounds coming from the downstairs toilet.
And she was right not to believe her luck.
“Excuse me, but what do you think you’re doing?”
She turns to see Charlie and her mother standing in the doorway. Charlie’s mother does not look pleased.
Mrs Woolf tries a bluff.
“Charlie!” she cries. “I told you I’d look after your grandma. But now you’re here, I’ll be off.”
That’s when she sees that Charlie’s phone is aimed at the suitcase full of jade and is now panning up to focus on her face.
“Oh no you won’t,” says Charlie’s mum. “You stay right where you are. I’m calling the police.” And so she does.
“It’s alright, Mum,” says Charlie. “I’ve recorded it all on my phone. We’ve got evidence,” she announces proudly.
Just then, a very loud crash comes from the hallway, followed by a lot of loud swearing, and Grandma barges into the room.
“You’re not from the agency at all!” she snarls, unnecessarily.
This is all too much for Charlie, who bursts into tears.
“Oh, Grandma, this is all my fault!” she wails.
Her mother turns to her angrily. “I shall deal with you later, don’t you worry, she says ominously.
But Grandma intervenes, taking Charlie in her arms and cuddling her tears away. “Oh, don’t be so horrible,” she says, not unkindly. “She’s just a child. She didn’t know any better. She didn’t know all the trouble this would cause.”
Mum tuts and shakes her head in exasperation, but can’t help smiling.
Amidst the sobs and cuddles and soothing words, the sound of an approaching police siren can be heard…
