BWW Blog: Siobhan O'Loughlin - Bathtubs in Belfast

When I was in Minnesota, my friend Les Kurkendaal introduced me to a beautiful, spirited woman in a rockabilly dress. Her name was Chelley McClear.

"You guys have to meet," Les said, "Siobhan's going to perform in Ireland. Chelley lives in Belfast."

Chelley and I had the briefest exchange.

"You're the bathtub girl!"

"Belfast? Are you there in September?"

"We'll find you a tub."

How did I end up in Belfast? Or Ireland in general?

I was in the UK, and my friend from eight YEARS ago, a sweet blonde French boy named Aurelien, who I met in a hostel room in Cork, still graces the country itself and decided it made a lot of sense for us to drive around in his car for more Irish adventures. I approved of this decision.

I flew away from England, with tears in my eyes (My Benny!! My Roxy!!) and found Aurelien, (blue-eyed as ever, only now with a FIRM grasp of the English language that he'd only begun to learn when we first met), waiting for me at the gate. (Note: my French has improved maybe in the negative side of 0. I still cannot properly pronounce my friend's name).

We spent the night in Dublin, and then drove to Belfast, where Chelley, whom I had met once ever, had magically organized a performance. Broken Bone Bathtub had been endorsed by some dudes under the name of Shot Glass, and would take place at some guy named Connor's house.

What is Shot Glass? Who are these men in this facebook thread with me? I do not understand their humor and we have never met.

Might as well get naked, then.

Aurelien and I slept at Chelley's home, and I went for a drink with Chelley and Conor, whose eyes had the mystical ability to match whatever green or blue or grey he might be wearing. Conor is a multi-lingual linguist (yep, I said that) with a current career that requires him to dress up and a previous career bartending in Paris (that I assume did not require him to dress up) before returning home. ("Why am I here? Because I need to be. Do I need to be?") Being a person who has a fondness for people who suffer from existential dread, (and realizing that this is most of Ireland, North and Republic alike) I felt a fondness for Conor just as much as Chelley, and well, let's do this thing.

Aurelien delivers me to Conor's (and they have proper conversations in French) the next day, and I get to see what a lovely sized bathroom Conor genuinely has. I will never forget arranging the space with him.

"I've got these chairs," Conor said, "And there's pillows here for the floor."

"Great," I chirped, "And you know, it's a cozy, close-proximity show, so we can put these pillows right next to the tub."

"Um, no."

"No?"

"I think people can stand in the back here."

"Well, it's immersive."

"I know."

"Yeah? I like them close to me."

"They're going to want to stand in the back."

"But that's not comfortable. Put them with me."

"No."

"But-"

"Siobhan, please listen to me. I'm Irish. I live here. I know that they will want to stand in the back."

(A moment)

"Okay."

This was one of my favorite performances, genuinely. We fit nine people, quite comfortably, into Conor's bathroom.

I need to also sincerely say that despite my ridiculously Irish name, I claim NO expertise or ultra awareness of Irish culture or sentiment or humanity. Broken Bone Bathtub has served as a unique instrument for learning about the communities that bathe me. I think, in the time I spent in Conor's tub, talking and learning about these beautiful people who spent time with me, I felt two sentiments of the group that I identify with very much myself: (1) A deep sense of humor and (2) A deep sense of melancholy. Is that right? Is that fair?

As the performance carried on, I learned that the more I made fun of people via sarcasm and facetious banter, the more they opened up. And I was moved to see how open so many people were about the things that made them down, and the bad feelings they'd had, and the stories and histories that even their good friends hadn't known. I was laughing so much, and also feeling deep heart punctures, and was ultimately grateful to be covered in bubbles with gentle people at my side. I also relate to a love of laughter and a sincere relationship with sadness.

Am I making any sense? Anyway:

To Noel, who washed my hair: You are the first person to have ever toweled my head. You sweet, wonderful soul.

After we'd filed out, Conor was able to make awesome gin cocktails, because that's what he does, AND because one of our amazing guests, Christine Morrow, brought a bottle of local gin for everyone to share, as well as a giant box of chocolates. Party afterwards? In my bathrobe? Yes.

Here (while becoming intoxicated sort of suddenly) I got to actually discover that Joseph Nawaz is one of the forces behind Shot Glass-and he told me about how he sort of tentatively endorsed the project before he knew what it was, but was now proud to potentially have his company's name associated with mine. Shot Glass is "like theatre, but in a pub." So, when we work together in the future (right Joe?! Like this Spring even?!) We can just cross out the "p" and replace it with a "t." Solved. The end. Shot Glass.

Thank you, Conor. Thank you, Chelley, Shot Glass, and Belfast. Thank you, Joe. Maybe next time, we can hold hands for longer.