Dolomit-tee-hee

That’s a play on words, that title. Do you get it? DO YOU? If you do then you are in my club. Welcome. Come on in….

So yes, I was in the Dolomites a few weeks ago filming some stuff for the Russians, which I can’t talk about. I could tell you, but then I’d have to nobble you with a cosh and send you to Gulag. Only joking, I wouldn’t nobble you. Maybe a nibble, if you were lucky. Didn’t they close the Gulag anyway? I hope so.

There I was up in the mountains at 7am, watching the sun rise and was absolutely spell bound by the utter majesty of these mountains.

It’s not often that I run out of things to say, but this view quite rightly put me and the rest of the crew in rendered silence. My palms got a bit sweaty with vertigo too, but the main feeling that took me over was just insignificance. I don’t mean that in a depressing, ‘what’s-the-point?’ way. I mean that my woes and worries suddenly became insignificant in the grand scheme of it all. I was humbled and that also led to inspiration. That’s the power of these things, I was shaken out of my city absurdity bubble and there was clarity…

I have been in a creative slump for some months and stuck on page 20 of my play; I’ve also stuck trying as a performer and wondering if there was any point continuing this pursuit. I was bogged down with worries and felt numb. But these mountains just fixed me, and I came back with London with a clear head and a renewed creative energy.

He’s gone off his rocker, you’re saying. I hear you, brothers and sisters, but just go to the mountains and dare not to be inspired. I double dare you. 

It wasn’t all divine inspiration, my friends. There were also some comedy moments to be had at 3000ft. Firstly, in the most remotest part of the mountain, I managed to step in a poo that look disturbingly HUMAN and I also noticed was that we were surrounded by these ad boards across the ski resort. What DOES this say about the Italian ‘target audience?’