It’s a time of mud and storms, of fitful sunbursts, of humid heat and sudden night chills. I don’t do festivals – I’m sure I would have loved them when I was young and green, snuggling down in the squelch, full of music and cider, carefree sex amongst the Portaloos and the rain-drenched spliff-ends

These days the nearest I get is the Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre on Press Night. As indeed last week, to see Shakespeare’s “Henry the Fifth”, featuring Michelle Terry as the king.

There’s a lot of cross-gender Barding about, and I’m not going to get into that debate – but I must confess minor misgivings when I heard Michelle was about to do it. I mean, a superb actress, in her student days one of our flock at Gower St, someone of whom I’m immensely fond, but at five foot something I couldn’t quite see her wading through Agincourt mud dismembering brawny Frenchmen.

But hey, we call it acting! Rob Hastie’s nimble production tells the rousing story with invention and clarity, lots of fun along the way, and Michelle’s laser  intelligence sharply illuminating the arguments about sovereignty and leadership.

And talking of which, this was the day of the Referendum. There are platforms elsewhere where this event will be discussed till doomsday. My only comment is that doomsday is now a lot, lot closer. In my view the agonies we will suffer in the coming decades should principally be laid at the doors of three people, two of whom led major political parties (and I don’t mean UKIP.)

But enough of all that, let us seek Reasons to be Cheerful. Our tour of “The Father” came to a happy end in the heart of England, with a week apiece in Birmingham and Cheltenham. Birmingham holds rich memories for me – in earlier days I served time at both the old and new Birmingham Repertory theatres, and it was to the latter we toured. The backstage walls are hung with archive production pictures, and no sooner was I through the stage-door than I found myself face-to-face with images from shows I was in decades ago, including a blurry one of me as Ratty in “The Wind in the Willows”. Ah..my dear young friend, there is nothing, absolutely nothing half so much worth doing….

The recently refurbished Rep theatre building is surrounded by a surging renaissance, as the city rebuilds its “Paradise” quarter. There’s a whiff of 1920s New York, a city re-finding and rekindling its commercial roots, polishing up architectural nuggets from the past – like the remarkable Town Hall and Council House – alongside eye-grabbing new constructions, for instance a sparkling, whirligig library and a railway station wrapped massively in kitchen-foil!

During our week at the Rep I commuted from Stratford on Avon, where I stayed with my pal Charlie. There’s a handy local shuttle train, and since our play was short I could be in the Dirty Duck fin time for a daily post-show night-cap, and thus catch up on doings at the RSC. Cheering Events in coming months include a brace of terrific compatriot Radagrads in “King Lear” (Kelly Willams and Nia Gwynn as Regan and Goneril) and the dashing Ed Bennett reprising Berowne and Benedick,  when last summer’s Stratford hit double of “Love’s Labours” and “Much Ado” arrives at the Theatre Royal Haymarket in September.

That week we had hot sunshine – do you remember? It was a long time ago, before the Referendum…On the Friday Charlie took me on a wonderful exploration of the Cotswolds, taking in a glorious garden lunch in the Swan at Swinbrook, a pub once owned by “Debo” Duchess of Devonshire, a few miles from the stately house where she and her Mitford sisters grew up. After lunch we went to the church where Unity, Nancy and Diana are buried, alongside Diana’s grandson, Alexander Mosely. What an amazing family..now I’m busy  reading all about them in “The Mitford Girls”.

Back in Birmingham I went for stroll in the old “Cut” – the city centre canal junction, now a teeming leisure area. Here’s one for the pub quiz – where is the only roundabout in England created for water traffic?

After Brum, a short trip to Cheltenham, the elegant Spa town, and the last of our matchless Matcham theatres, the Everyman – another stunning, recently refurbished auditorium. Again, for me there were echoes –  here my adaptation of “The Pickwick Papers” was performed, and here I directed Ayckbourn comedies. The weather stayed kind, and allowed exploring the gardens and the Pump rooms, and al fresco swimming at the Lido…Truly, as the pound plummets and our Continental neighbours become less welcoming, you could have few more agreeable holidays than here in our midland counties, the Heart of England.

However, no sooner had the “The Father” tour finished than I was off to the Continent, to stage a play we launched last year at the Finborough Theatre, featuring that remarkable Duke of Wellington clone, Martin Wimbush.

This  was “Miss Wilson’s Waterloo” with Karen Archer as the eponymous Harriette Wilson, in a one-off, specially commissioned performance for a private audience on a cruise in the North Sea, who loved it. It makes cracking, informative entertainment: a startling encounter between two people whose sexual conquests were legion. For anyone who loves amazing real-life characters in true stories from a turning point in Europe’s history  – as we as a nation turn our back on that same continent – all enquiries, please, to this address.

And so back to London, to the Royal Court, and a commemoration for Bill Gaskill, a major director at that theatre and many others, a founding director of the National Theatre, and in his latter years a wise and witty colleague at RADA. There were many stories told by a gathering of very distinguished theatre folk, plus a final tribute of a Kipling poem delivered splendidly and movingly by Ken Cranham. My own memory was of a director in his prime regarded as a fierce, uncompromising firebrand of the Left, in more mellow later years accosting me one late-spring day in the corridor at Gower St and asking sternly “Now have you got your bedding plants in yet…?”

Spotting this poster at a tube station reminded me that a return to Wyndham’s Theatre was essential, to see the new piece by the author of “The Father”, Florian Zeller- a play similarly translated by Christopher Hampton.”The Father”, for those who didn’t see it, is a profoundly accurate and upsetting study of a man’s life unravelling through dementia. “The Truth” is a profoundly accurate study of two marriages unravelling through infidelity – and is very, very funny! Florian is a master craftsman who writes taut, sharp dialogue in a tight skilfully-structured story-line, with perfectly-timed twists and surprises.

This is classy stuff – if you haven’t already, try and catch it. This guy is making a contribution, and I expect there’s lots more to come  – he’s young, still in his thirties. A sequel to the present play, “Lies”, is due soon in London. Idon’t think it has anything to do with the Leave campaign…

And this week there are two more Reasons to be Cheerful, the football teams from Iceland and Wales! If you’re not a soccer fan, you should know there is something afoot in France  called the European Championship, and easily the two most endearing and entertaining teams have been from two of Europe’s tiniest nations. The Icelanders have now been knocked out of the tournament and gone home to a heroes’ welcome – but the Welsh boys play again tomorrow at the Stade des Lumières in Lyons against Portugal. The Welsh team includes the World’s Most Expensive Player (Gareth Bale ) and the Portuguese team the World’s Highest Paid Player (Cristiano Ronaldo) They both earn a crust most weeks playing for the glamorous Spanish side Real Madrid. Many of you may be reading this after it’s all over, but win or lose let’s hear it for the boyos, for the fun, excitement and charm they’ve brought to our TV screens. And let’s try to forget – well just for now – that Welsh voters last week chose to turn away millions in European support for their communities…

Important footnote: “The Father” production has spawned an inspiring project to help research in the field of dementia, something the chances are will affect or has affected the lives of us all. My former dressing-room mate Tom Michael Blyth has persuaded distinguished, exciting actors to take part in a new Shakespeare-based website. Please check it out at  http://www.allthesonnets.co.uk