Bridekirk Dovenby Primary - Three Days to Build a Carnival

There are two types of phone calls.... The ones where you politely say, "I'm sorry, that's not possible." And the ones where your mouth says, "Absolutely!" before your brain has had chance to think about what you've just agreed to.... This was definitely the second type.

It was Sunday afternoon when my phone rang. On the other end was the lovely Mrs Taylor from Bridekirk Dovenby Primary School. She explained she'd been scrolling through Facebook and had come across a reel from my performance at Flynnes Barn Fest. She loved the energy, the audience interaction, the circus skills... and she had an idea.

Mrs Taylor was retiring. Rather than receiving a gift herself, she wanted to give something back to the school that had been such a huge part of her life. She wanted to leave the children with a memory. I loved that idea immediately.

"So, what are you thinking?" I said. "Circus workshops? Some fun activities?"

There was a little pause.

"No," she laughed. "I'd really like a proper show."

"Brilliant," I replied. "How many children?"

"The whole school."

"Fantastic!"

"And I'd love audience participation."

"Even better."

At this point I was already mentally putting pieces together. An hour-long interactive show? Absolutely. A few weeks to prepare? I thought, perfect.

"So... when would you like it?"

"Wednesday."

I looked at the calendar.

Three days.

For most people, that might have been the point where they apologised and explained why it couldn't be done. Instead, I heard myself say the words I've said far too many times over the years.

"Yeah... we can make that happen." As soon as I put the phone down, the excitement kicked in.

This wasn't about dusting off an old routine or squeezing together a few tricks I'd done before. If Mrs Taylor wanted to leave the school with a lasting memory, then it had to feel like their show. Something built especially for them. The first idea arrived almost immediately. It wasn't just going to be a circus show. It was going to be a carnival. Not one that had already arrived, but one the children would help create. Everything suddenly had a purpose.

We'd begin by building the noise.

Then the energy.

Then the imagination.

Then the dancers.

Then the music.

Piece by piece, the children themselves would bring the carnival to life.

That Sunday evening disappeared in a blur of notebooks, coffee and music. I disappeared into Ableton Live Suite 12, building brand-new backing tracks from scratch. Every cue, every transition and every musical moment was designed specifically for this production. I wanted it to flow like a theatre show rather than feel like a collection of separate routines. The finale became the first thing I finished.

I'd always loved the energy of samba bands, so I wrote a simple carnival rhythm that every child could join in with. The younger children would play shakers. The older children would become the backline with claves. The rest of the school would clap different rhythms that we'd learned throughout the performance, all reinforced subtly through the PA system so everyone could stay together. For the music, I chose "Try Everything" from Zootopia. It carried exactly the message Mrs Taylor wanted to leave behind: keep trying, keep learning and don't be afraid to make mistakes. I rewrote the lyrics, recorded them in advance and built them into the soundtrack. Without having seen the performance space, I wasn't prepared to leave anything to chance. If the acoustics weren't perfect for live vocals, we'd still have a seamless performance.

While I was immersed in music, Jenny quietly became the hero of the production.

I rather sheepishly asked if she'd be willing to help by operating a puppet. Thankfully she said yes.

That simple conversation gave birth to Steve. Steve wasn't planned. He simply evolved.

He became this wonderfully grumpy little monster who was convinced nobody believed in imagination anymore. Better still, when he first appeared... nobody could actually see him.

I've worked with children for many years, and there's something magical about letting them fill in the gaps themselves. The moment I announced Steve was standing beside me, the playground erupted.

"He isn't there!"

"We cant see him!"

"Where's Steve!"

Instantly every child in the school was involved.

As Steve developed, so did the technology behind him. His voice wasn't just recorded as one long track. Every sentence was carefully timed with deliberate pauses so we could have genuine conversations during the performance. Every interruption, every joke and every sarcastic comment had to feel spontaneous, even though it had all been painstakingly planned.

Meanwhile, around us, the house slowly transformed into what can only be described as organised chaos.

Recycled plastic barrels quickly became percussion instruments.

Dance ribbons appeared across the living room floor.

Props came and went as ideas evolved.

Scripts were rewritten.

Then rewritten again.

Somewhere around two o'clock in the morning we finally reached that lovely stage where exhaustion disappears and creativity takes over. You stop asking what time it is. You just keep making it better. By Wednesday morning the van was packed.

There was still one small problem.

I still hadn't actually seen the venue.

No technical rehearsal.

No soundcheck.

No opportunity to walk through the performance beforehand.

Just complete faith that everything we'd spent three days creating would work.

As the children filed into the playground, I remember thinking...

"Well... we're about to find out."

Within minutes, every worry disappeared.

The cheering competition had them bouncing.

Steve was already winding the children up.

The magic colouring book had hundreds of little faces staring in disbelief.

The carnival wave swept from Reception right through to Year 6 with absolute precision.

Then Steve decided the teachers hadn't been doing enough work.

Seeing teachers dancing, wearing colourful wigs while the children roared with laughter was one of those moments you simply couldn't have scripted any better.

By the time we reached the finale, everything we'd built over those three days suddenly made sense.

The percussion started.

Twenty children became the carnival band.

One side of the audience clapped one rhythm.

The other answered back.

Teachers danced with ribbons around the outside.

The music swelled.

The whole school became one enormous carnival.

Exactly as we'd imagined it.

Standing there afterwards, listening to teachers say they couldn't believe the show had only existed for three days, was incredibly satisfying.

But what stayed with me most wasn't actually the performance.

It was the school itself.

As we arrived, children held gates open for us, offered to help carry equipment and thanked us with smiles, high-fives and waves as they headed back inside.

Those small moments say everything about a school.

Mrs Taylor wanted to leave her pupils with one final happy memory before retiring.

I genuinely hope we helped make that happen.

The wonderful thing is that although Mrs Taylor's Carnival was created for one very special person, it won't end there.

The personalised references have now been carefully reworked into a brand-new interactive carnival production that can be adapted for schools, festivals and family events across Cumbria and beyond.

It's no longer just Mrs Taylor's story.

It's the beginning of a new one.

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"Great Carnival at Bridekirk Dovenby School this afternoon. Teacher participation, children accompanying the singing with tambourines and rhythm sticks, carnival streamers and a song or two. A finale of fire breathing and lots of laughs!" - Mrs Taylor

"What a fantastic afternoon, great great entertainer. It was fabulous from beginning to end" - Miss Marr

"A fantastic afternoon - great memories for everyone!" - Mrs Smith