This is one of those Very Long Holly-blogs, where I reflect on the run up to smashing out a fully improvised performance-lecture at a play conference in Denmark. I give a bit of background, explore my terror leading up to the performance and my preparation on the day of the show. There’s an outline of the content of the show and a description of the aftermath. The last section is a series of short reflections on what I learned (you could just scroll down to that if you’re pressed for time).

This one goes out to everyone who is interested in play, Fooling, IFS, improvised performance, finding balance between structure and freedom, stage fright and the parts that fuel it, how to ground and anchor yourself in a storm and it’s also for nosey people who just want to know what I’ve been up to lately.

Counterplay Festival

Counterplay is a three day international play festival/conference that takes place in Denmark. It’s a place where play experts from all over the world, from numerous disciplines (including academics, designers, performers, artists, facilitators and enthusiasts) gather together to share their love of play with each other through experiential workshops and Very Serious Discussions.

Counterplay began in a library in Aarhus, in 2014. It was an annual event, up until 2020, when play got paused by the pandemic. Life and a phD took over and 7 years passed before the organiser, Matthais Poulsen found the time and energy to resurrect it. In May 2026, Counterplay was reborn at the design school in Kolding!

I applied to present a workshop on the theme, “What gets in the way of play?” and as an afterthought, I added: “Oh and by the way, I’ve recently got back into doing performance-lectures, maybe I could do one of those?” They took me up on both my offers!

My Journey Back To Performance 

In January 2026, I performed a full-length, 90 minute semi-improvised performance-lecture at the British Association of Dramatherapy (BADth) annual conference in Glasgow. This was my first public performance of this kind since my Stage Fright project in 2017. The intervening years were a long, arduous journey of lost babies, heartbreak, grief, overwork, burnout, recovery and gradually clawing my way back to the stage. 

Over the last few years, through a series of co-created labs and residencies with various collaborators, I’ve gradually re-discovered my pleasure and flow in improvisation. Then last summer, I finally found my way back to my full-length improvised parts-based performance-lecture format at the Glitter Heart lab.

The Glasgow performance-lecture in January this year included embodied parts work, storytelling, comedy, tragedy, movement, dance, audience interaction, ritual and The Unexpected. An ensemble of my inner parts and I, offered an introduction to Internal Family Systems (IFS), told fragments of my story and offered the audience live experiments to help them explore their own material. 

It was A LOT.

I really wanted that performance to be useful and meaningful for a room full of dramatherapists. I also wanted to make sure I’d be safe enough to share my vulnerability on stage without falling apart, so I put a lot of time into writing and shaping the piece. The final performance ended up being quite structured, with built-in spaces for improvisation. 

Although it was very well-received (I got a standing ovation!) and I was very proud of myself for making and performing a solo show after all these years, I missed the spontaneity and immediacy of pure improvisation. The structure was useful in helping me safely tell my grief and burnout story, but to the parts of me that like to be alive and responsive to what’s happening in the room, the structure felt like a straight jacket (much like my TEDx talk, but that’s another story for another day…).

So when I got the email from Matthais, asking me to perform a 30-minute keynote speech at Counterplay, I made a conscious choice do a purely improvised Fooling show; I would literally walk into the empty space without a plan and embody my inner parts as they came up, moment by moment. The Counterplay crowd seemed like a friendly enough bunch, and I trusted my parts to be able to guide me towards a safe-enough level of play for a 30-minute performance-lecture on play…

The Week Leading Up To The Performance

At the end of April, feeling refreshed from taking some time out, I was back in Devon, this time at the Moor Imagination Centre in Buckfastleigh, teaching a beautiful 5-day course for vocal improvisers, called Performance and Parts, in collaboration with Collaborative Vocal Improvisation legend, Briony Greenhill. 

It was a glorious week of deep compassion and wild play, as we explored the inner voices that get activated when we step onto the stage, through embodiment and singing. My evenings were full of nourishing company and delicious food, as I broke bread with an array of my dear Devon pals.

In many ways it was the perfect week, but at the back of my brain, a little gang of niggling voices were gnawing away:

“You are going to Denmark to do a keynote speech next week and you haven’t got a plan! Are you nuts?”

“No she’s not nuts, she’s lazy!”

“No, she’s stupid!”

“I mean, there’s got to be something wrong with her!”

I tended to these voices as best I could, listening to their concerns and reminding them I had, in fact, made a conscious plan to have no plan, it wasn’t an accident or an oversight.

“But can you really trust yourself?”

“I don’t think she should trust herself! Remember all the times she’s fallen apart! Imagine that happening in Denmark, she just gets on the stage and loses it.”

“Oh fuck, we can’t let her do this!”

My trusty planners kicked into action

Some tried to push me towards theory:

“At least you could have some chunks of theory under your belt, something to fall back on.”

Some tried to push me towards creating structures:

“You just need some simple games that you can play with the audience, or you need to know which parts you’re going to embody and where they will be on stage, or you need a reliable playlist.”

Others became obsessed with my wardrobe:

“Ok, I’m thinking fun, bright colours, comfy, but you’ve got to be able to move your body without showing everyone your belly or your tits. Also flowers in your hair. As many as you can get in there.”

Others got obsessed about food:

“But what kind of snacks will you have before and after the show? Where will you get them from?”

One tried to rope all my friends in:

“I know, let’s hire a space in Bristol on the weekend, we can do a warm up for a couple of hours, then invite a load of pals in to watch you improvise.”

Now this plan seemed like a good idea, but alas, I couldn’t find a space to hire in Bristol at short notice and I didn’t have time to explore other options or pull an audience together. So I decided to stay in Devon for the weekend and walk up the big hill I’d been eyeing up all week. I called my parts together to explain the situation:

“Look, I know you’re all trying to help me get ready for the show, but the plan to hire a space and do a warm-up show doesn’t seem to be flowing. I’ve been teaching all week and I’m absolutely knackered and I think the best thing I can do to prepare, is to immerse myself in beauty and let go for the weekend.”

After some disgruntled murmurings, my parts unanimously conceded; I WAS very tired, and I DID have 40 years of performance experience I could draw on, I probably WOULD be able to pull something out of the bag.

A lovely day in Devon

So I had a lovely day, exploring the nooks and crannies of Devon in the rain. In the evening I headed to Ashburton Arts Centre for a wonderfully intimate, stripped-down gig by Welsh / Cornish singer Gwenno. She sat at a grand piano, clad in velvet, in the middle of a converted church, huddled by the audience on all sides whilst she sang about cheese.

I returned to Bristol feeling nourished, regulated and content. That was definitely the best thing to do with my weekend!

“But was it?” asked my doubting parts. “Was it really the best thing to do, or are you just trying to convince yourself that you haven’t made THE WORST DECISION OF YOUR ENTIRE LIFE? Oh, and by the way, YOU’RE GOING TO DIE ON STAGE!!!”

Luckily, Past Me had made some great choices and, in the couple of days I had at home, Past Me had booked me into a gorgeous dance-movement class called Wild Body, an IFS therapy session, clinical supervision AND dinner with friends, giving me all the support I needed to ground myself, attend to the doubting voices and assuage my terror. Past Me was a frigging genius! 

My journey to Denmark was simple; two trains, snacks, a plane, more snacks, meeting two fellow play presenters and riding two buses to Kolding, a little wander about, more snacks and bed. Easy.

The Day Of The Show

I woke up on show day, knowing unequivocally that today would be my last day on earth. It was clear to me that the Counterplay tribe would take one look at me and say in one voice, “She Must Die!” 

Today I was going to be lynched by a bunch of play enthusiasts. It would  be a creative and maybe even funny death, but there was absolutely no escaping it. Today, I was going to die.

An army of planning parts rushed in to try and help:

“We’ve got time to write something!”

“Just ring up the organiser and say, “Sorry, I can’t do it.””

“JUST RUN AWAY!”

I listened to their ideas before taking leadership of the process again:

“OK gang, here’s what’s going to happen. We have a question (What gets in the way of play?), and we know we can trust Patricia (my inner academic) to offer clear context and framing, and we can trust Derick, (my inner critic) to ask clarifying questions and offer release through comedy when it gets too serious / awkward / weird, and we know we have the Production Manager who can keep us all on track.

“We also know we want the audience to have a genuine impact on the play, so we can’t actually plan what’s going to happen beyond the initial framing. The practice in Fooling is to take step after step into the unknown, remember? We’ve been practicing this for 25 years! Plus, we know how to play, we have great music for dancing, Collaborative Vocal Improvisation skills to get the audience singing and endless amounts of stupidity. We have enough. We are enough. Let’s go!”

I walked slowly to the venue, feeling the ground under my feet with every step. All my parts were cowering inside me.

I was greeted by the serene figure of Bart, who was blowing huge rainbow-coloured soap bubbles outside the design school. I stood and gawped, with a bunch of colourful play people of all shapes and sizes and let the sweet ephemeral beauty of the bubbles soothe me, before the urge for tea drew me inside the huge glass-fronted building. 

Playful colourful arrows and squiggles on the floor marked the way to a table loaded with all sorts of vibrant materials, including: balls, bits of dolls, pipe-cleaners, lego bricks, cardboard, lolly sticks, pegs and every type of tape, glue, string and pen you could imagine. There was a sign saying, “Make yourself a name badge,” so I did.

The air was alive with squeals of excitement, especially amongst the Counterplay veterans - this tribe hadn’t met for 7 whole years! 

“Haven’t we all got older?” 

“Not everyone! Not me! I’m just the same!”

I slipped away to find a cup of tea and a quiet place to sit. I needed to get orientated in the environment, before attempting to do any sort of small talk! I found someone else who was doing exactly the same thing and we huddled together quietly with the programme and hey presto, I made my first Counterplay friend!

Welcome to Counterplay!

The festival director, Matthais Poulsen welcomed us, the international play community, to his festival. He laid out the basics:

“There are no rules at Counterplay, but if in doubt, blow bubbles!”

He then added, “Oh no, there is a rule, don’t light a fire indoors!”

The days were divided into four sessions and for each of those sessions, there were three or four different choices of activities, exploring a huge range of themes and styles of play.

Matthais reminded us that, “Play is always voluntary” and invited us to do what we needed to do throughout the three days; “Step in, step back, step aside or put on a mask”. 

We were invited to make a little plasticine figure to represent our playful selves whilst bobbing around to music. I made a boot with an eye to remind me to stay connected with the earth whilst looking out for connection.

Preparing For The Unknown

My performance-lecture was scheduled for 4.45pm on that first day, so I had a whole day to manage my nerves. I picked my way through the programme, starting with Sarah Huxley’s Body Word Play, where we generated a bunch of words associated with play, placed them into our bodies and became an orchestra of words, movements and sounds. This session helped me to ground myself in my body, warm up my voice and wake up my playfulness. 

After lunch, I tried Kevin Davidson’s Playing With Rules session, where we played simple group games like keeping the balloon in the air, but with invitations to change the rules whenever we liked. It was great to be reminded of the endless well of possibilities in any moment. But as my performance crept closer and closer, I found that I couldn’t really concentrate on anything else, so I decided to start preparing my performance space. 

Dragging my suitcase towards the empty space, I had a heavy feeling in my chest, like I was walking towards my execution. Bart the bubble man clocked me in my dread, and walked beside me. He asked if he could help me set up my stage and I said YES PLEASE!

Inspired by Gwenno’s gig, I decided to try setting the chairs up in the round, so we did. I stood in the middle of the circle of chairs.

Bart: How does that feel?

Me: Urgh, I feel totally exposed, like there’s nowhere to hide.

Bart: Then that’s not it! How shall we try it next?

We had fun whizzing the wheelie chairs around the big open space until we settled on a wide horse-shoe shape. This would give me a back wall to play against, with plenty of places to hide and the audience would be able to see me if I wanted to get down onto the floor.

Bart: How does that feel now?

Me: That’s it!

Bart: OK great. You want me to leave you alone now?

Me: Yes, thank you!

I put on some gentle music and placed my body in the space. Over the next hour I warmed up my body and voice and greeted every inch of the space, before welcoming in my parts and asking them where they wanted to be on the stage. 

My spot was centre stage, Patrica was to the left and slightly in front of me and Derick was behind and to the right. He told me he wanted a chair. My Little One wanted to be crouched down at the back of the stage and my Technician / Project Manager wanted to be by the sound system at the side of the stage. I didn’t know who else was going to show up, but there was plenty of room for other parts to inhabit during the show.

I called in my Guides and they supported me to walk around the circumference of the space, using movement and sound to invite in the qualities of confidence, curiosity, play, joy, clarity, courage, depth, surprise and taking my sweet time.

I was ready.

What Happened During The Show?

These notes were written a week after the performance, so I may have forgotten / misremembered some things and have other bits in the wrong order, but this is the gist of it.

1.) Welcoming The Audience To The Show

This was performed as a three-hander between me, Derick (my inner critic) and Patrica (my inner academic). I began by introducing myself and the idea; “I am going to improvise a keynote talk around the theme of ‘What Gets In The Way Of Play?’”

Derick chipped in to ask clarifying questions to support the audience’s comprehension and to shower me with doubt and cynicism, which paradoxically released me to play more.

Patricia chipped in to explain that there are actually some foundations to this experiment! She explained a bit about Fooling and IFS and assured the audience that I’d had a lot of training in both.

2.) Asking The Audience: What Gets In The Way Of Play?

Me, Patrica and Derick then set about having a chat with the audience, starting with the question ‘What Gets In The Way Of Play?’

I spontaneously responded to each of the audience’s suggestions, handing over to the parts that could best demonstrate the energy the audience had called in.

Here’s what the audience called in, in response to the question, ‘What Gets In The Way Of Play?’

Shame 

- I handed this one over to Derick, who showered me with a classic shame storm.

Perfectionism 

- Patrica took this one on, “You must be perfect or they will all know!”

- This revealed the Little One that Patricia protects, crouching at the back of the stage

- Patricia explained that I was a very strange little girl who didn’t quite fit in anywhere 

- Patrica explained that her job is to try and make me appear perfect so no-one will know how strange I truly am.

Wanting To Be Good

-This one was taken on by another Young Girl, constricted inside a tight imaginary tube

-Inside her tube her movements were stiff and studied, her breath was held

-Claustrophobia started to creep in and The Dancing One burst me out of the tube

The Dancing One

- The Technician put on a tune and The Dancing One danced around the stage, releasing the constriction of The One Who Wants To Be Good.

Back to the question - What Gets In The Way Of Play?

I Don’t Know What The Rules Are!

-The Little One at the back fo the stage took this one on

-She revealed my circus upbringing and the confusion about who to be, where… "It’s OK to be big and loud and confident and playful with the circus, but it’s not OK to do that at school. It’s not OK to be sensitive and quiet in the circus, oh, it’s not OK to be sensitive at school either, oh, or at home…"

-The Little One did a swear and my Worried One burst forward.

Worried One

-Apologised to the audience for the swearing

-Explained that most of my parts swear, because there’s a PUNK inside who is very loud.

THE PUNK

-Egged on by the audience, The Punk threatened to swipe all the plasticine figures that everyone had made off the table onto the floor

Worried One

-“Oh no! We’ve only just met these people, you can’t just trash the little figures that they made, it’s so vulnerable that they made them and let everyone else see them, don’t ruin them!”

Back to the question - What Gets In The Way Of Play?

Emails

-I found a new spot at the back to the stage to embody a dead-eyed Administrator, answering friendly emails in a monotone voice.

Capitalism #1

-This one was loud, confident and masculine, strutting around very close to the audience, snorting cocaine and bellowing about money and power.

Worried One

-“Oh no! That was too close and too scary! This is not the way to make friends!”

Capitalism #2

-I tried again, the second one was seductive, friendly and deceptive; “Do you like me? Do you want to be me? Just give me all your money and I can make you better than you are.”

War

-I flopped to the floor, and lay there, breathing

-“How can we play when people are dying? How can we play when the world is burning?”

I can’t remember how I got out of that, maybe I danced, maybe Derick had a word, but something shifted the energy.

I remember talking about play and somehow got onto The Dark Mist Of Play, the fear / mistrust that many people have around play in adulthood.

The Dark Mist Of Play

-Embodying dark swirling mist

Back to the question - What Gets In The Way Of Play?

Judgement

-Standing on the high chair at the back of the stage, I used my biggest voice to berate myself.

-“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

3.) IFS theory

This next bit was a 2-hander between me and Patrica. We explained how our inner parts mirror the culture that we live in and that we hold all those voices inside us.

Some voices try to keep us safe and protected, by amplifying the cultural messages and making sure we toe the line.

Patrica and I explained that developing curiosity and compassion for our protector parts can help them to release their burdensome roles.

In conversation with the audience, we asked some of the protector parts why they were giving me such a hard time. 

We asked them what they were afraid would happen if they weren’t protecting me in the ways they protect me. 

We asked them what else they might like to do if they didn’t have to work so hard to protect me.

I have a sense that there was some great content here, but it’s all a bit of a blur now!

I remember at one point, several of my parts saying:

“I’ve never really thought about it like that before!”

“I’ve never really thought about it like that before!”

“I’ve never really thought about it like that before!”

4.) The Finale

- Noticing we only had a couple of minutes left, I asked the audience how does this end? What do we need?

- Someone suggested we need Hope and Love!

- I invited the audience to hum or sing the sounds of Hope and Love from their hearts.

- Bathed in hope and love, some of my parts performed a little dance of unburdening.

The Aftermath

At the end of the show, I felt elated and vulnerable. I thanked the audience for playing with me and said, “I really want to talk to all of you over the next few days, but please not tonight - tonight I will only be accepting hugs.” I was engulfed by hugs for the rest of the evening! 

I had so much adrenaline coursing through my body, I didn’t think I’d be able to participate in the next session, so I headed out to find the sea. The walking helped me find the ground under my feet and the water helped me to release some of the energy that was whizzing around my body. I phoned a good friend and felt held in love. 

This felt very different to the Glasgow show, where I’d had a sudden surge of shame and dissociated at the end of the performance. People were coming up to me to tell me their stories, but I couldn’t really hear them, I just wanted to get out of there and hide under the duvet.

In Denmark, I traipsed back from the sea in time for dinner. I made some gentle connections over the most ridiculous, playful meal - every course contained white chocolate, even the cucumber soup pallet-cleanser. We were encouraged to eat with knitting needles, tiny spoons and trowels. I felt fuzzy and a bit fragile, but safe enough to stay until the adrenaline subsided and I needed to crash out.

Day 2 at Counterplay

The next day began with a playful presentation from two students from the MA in play design. They proposed regular inner child check-ups for all grown ups, like regular health check ups, but performed by children, who would carry out a series of ridiculous tests before offering a prescription for however much play is needed.

Next I facilitated my short Playful Embodied IFS taster workshop for a lovely group of 12 people, before joyfully letting go of all responsibility and choosing the path of irreverent play for the rest of the day.

I headed out on the Urban Play Crawl with Natalia Gajo, marauding around the streets of Kolding with a gang of wallies, armed with colourful chalk, string, balls and tape, on a mission to turn Kolding into a playable city. 

Then in Anthea Moys’ session on Decolonising Joy, I found an appetite for joyfully aggressive play, through competitive drawing games, thumb wars, arm wrestling and slapsies. We morphed into a huge flock of “psychic” playmates, spilling out of the building and dancing in the streets. 

Next, I joined the Stag and Hen with Fi Nicholson and Gab Drewet, competing with a team of lairey “Hens” against a bunch of bantering “Stags” to complete a series of daft challenges around the city centre. 

That evening, after our usual white chocolate feast, we had an animal-themed drum and bass Ceilidh to celebrate David Attenborough’s 100th birthday.

Day 3 at Counterplay

On the final day, Matthais spoke about collective courage. He said, “When we’re together, we can do more!” He continued, “If you’re looking at it from the outside, then you’re just seeing idiots doing weird stuff…but we’re trying to figure out how we can relate to each other differently…. how we can live together playfully.” I felt happy to have found yet another tribe who shared my deep love and respect for play.

For the first session of the day, I drifted up the winding stairs to Portia Tung’s Game Of Universal Quest session. Portia invited us to choose little objects from a big yellow bag and arrange them on a paper circle. We then discovered that the objects represented us, our relationship with play, our block to play and our resources. 

Oh alright, I’ll tell you about my objects! I chose a girl in a pink party dress to represent me, a crocodile (protection) to represent my relationship with play, a fluffy chick (vulnerability) to represent my block to play and a dragon (boundaries) to represent my resource. We were invited to rearrange the objects into a constellation that would better serve us. With just a few little moves, I found a configuration that had my crocodile, my dragon and me supporting my fluffy chick (that's the photo above). Tiny play, massive impact!

Portia then facilitated a powerful group constellation exercise, where I got to embody the protagonist. I had a very powerful insight into my relationship with support and responsibility and something huge shifted inside. Tears flowed, heart softened.

For the rest of the day, I needed to be very gentle and quiet and soft. I didn’t want to go to any of the sessions but I also didn’t want to leave the festival. Instead, I found a succession of lovely people to hang out with, laying down on the ground, huddling in corners, going for little walks, chatting, being, crying, singing, laughing and watching the lazy river flow by. 

It’s testimony to the kindness and acceptance of the Counterplay community that I felt safe enough to show all these sides of myself to an assortment of virtual strangers! In my experience, kindness and acceptance are the sorts of qualities that can be cultivated through a regular play practice. What a delight to be amongst a throng of people from all over the world, who have devoted their lives to play! Long live play!

Reflections

• I went to a play festival in Denmark all by myself, I had a LOT of fun and made a lot of new friends.
• I did my first piece of pure Fooling in public in 9 years and I really enjoyed it!
• The build up was INTENSE! So many of my parts would prefer me to NEVER step onto a stage with absolutely nothing. It took a lot of work to keep all my parts steady in the week leading up to the festival and TONNES of work to stop everyone freaking out and running away on the actual day of the performance.
• I have the skills to keep my inner rabble calm and safe enough. This takes a lot of work and needs dedicated time and energy.
• I am still learning what support I need to ask for when I’m performing - this experience gave me more embodied information for next time (See what I did there? I just casually chucked in “next time!” Looks like I want to do more of this!)
• I was really grateful for the opportunities to warm up my play muscles in other people’s sessions, for the time and support to set up my performance space, and for the time and space to do a proper warm up. Taking time to anchor my parts in their stage spots and invite in my intentions for the performance gave me a sense of grounded presence and inner safety.
• Having my standard cast (Patrica, Derick, The Technician and The Little One) on stage, and a simple question to come back to (What gets in the way of play?), gave me enough stability to fly through my 30 minutes on stage.
• I really can trust my parts to keep me safe enough on stage and if I veer into super weird / wild / edgy territory, I can trust my parts to pull me back.
• 30 minutes is really different to 90 minutes. I can’t go as deep or as complicated, but maybe that’s OK? I wonder, what would 1 hour feel like?
• Maybe I don’t have to spill my guts on stage for my play to be valuable to others!?! Unlike Glasgow, where I told my own story, warts and all, this time I played more with archetypal energies (Shame, Perfectionism, Capitalism, etc) - drawing on my own experiences, but searching for the universal. I felt less exposed after this performance and I didn’t fall in a shame hole like I did after the Glasgow show. This could be a key to making performance more sustainable…
• Articulating a boundary at the end of the show (“Please just give me hugs tonight!”) stopped people from bombarding me with their stories when I knew I’d be too vulnerable to hold them. I’m glad I did this! It allowed me to stay and feel connected with people.
• My show seemed to open up a lot of juicy thinking around parts and play for the other people at the festival - I had lots of feedback that my talk was being referenced in other people’s sessions throughout the festival. That’s kinda cool, huh?!
• The rest of the festival was a RIDE! I was expecting Patrica to be in the driving seat, organising us towards the more theory-based sessions, but my clown / hooligan won out on the second day and vulnerability took the lead on day three. “What an interesting arc,” says Patricia. 

To find out more about Counterplay go here.

To read about the process of making and performing a show at the BADth conference in Glasgow, go here.

To read about my process of resurrecting the parts-based performance-lecture format at the Glitter Heart lab last summer, go here.

To read about my 2017 Work In Progress project, where I first birthed the parts-based performance-lecture format, go here.