This piece is a day late, and others I admire including Shona Louise have written about it far more eloquently than I probably will, but this is important and I’m tired of being passive. I realised lately I don’t use my platform, small though it is, to help impact change, so here’s me making a commitment to holding myself to being a better advocate for myself and the wider disabled community.

Yesterday, SIX the musical announced that from the 29th September, they’ll be moving from their current West End home of the Lyric Theatre to the Vaudeville Theatre. Having never been to the Lyric I can’t speak from experience about their accessibility, but I know their seats for wheelchair users are at Dress Circle level, and they have three possibilities.

The Vaudeville, however, is an entirely different story. Their accessibility page on the Nimax site reads:

“Wheelchair user access is provided using the AAT Major Stair Climber.

The stair climber accommodates wheelchairs up to 66cm (26 inches) wide and 89cm (35 inches) deep including any footrest. The maximum combined weight the Stair Climber can accommodate is 190kg (30 Stones) when distributed evenly across the wheelchair. 

Electric wheelchair users may be asked to transfer into the theatre’s manual wheelchair on arrival if the theatre staff consider the electric wheelchair unsuitable for transportation on the Stair Climber. Electric and manual wheelchair users are requested to contact our Access Team via phone or email ahead of purchasing tickets to discuss specific requirements and to book the use of the Stair Climber.”

Having measured my chair today, I, among other disabled patrons, have immediately been barred from seeing the show, as our chairs won’t fit, and speaking from my own needs personally, I cannot transfer as theatres don’t have the means of a hoist to allow me to do so.

But hang on, dear readers, the access situation gets more problematic:

“Disabled toilet facilities are available by arrangement with our neighbours, the Strand Palace Hotel and the Adelphi Theatre, a few doors down from the Vaudeville.  A member of theatre staff will accompany customers wishing to use the disabled toilet facilities; alternatively customers may present their theatre tickets at the main entrance of the Adelphi Theatre.”

So, let’s unpack these, shall we?

Disabled patrons like myself already face so many challenges when we want to indulge in our love of theatre: limited seating choices, inability to book online for the vast majority of houses, often we may only be able to attend matinee performances in light of travel needs, and so on. It’s not easy, and can often take a toll on one’s mental health with the extra hoops we have to deal with. I know it does with mine.

Let’s talk about the toilet situation. Ironically, I can’t use the standard disabled toilets anyway as they aren’t Changing Places, toilets with hoists, changing beds and all the space that a 1/4 of a million disabled people like me need when we need the toilet. I can hear the replies this might be getting and what people may be thinking: “at least they’re trying, facilities are there”, and so on. I beg you though, put yourselves in our shoes for a sec: in what universe is it ok for us to be expected to traipse down the road to another venue to use their facilities; can you imagine the queues as I’m assuming it’s pre and post show only. Short answer: it isn’t – nobody else would be expected to use the facilities 150 yards away…

To be outright excluded from supporting a show is soul destroying, and therein we have the toxicity that is so obvious to me as a disabled theatre fan: this industry constantly likes to talk about how welcoming it is, how committed it is to making change. And yet, repeatedly, it consistently never feels that way. It took till 2019 for me to see myself represented onstage, played by a disabled actress rather than an able bodied one. I don’t see disabled people offstage either, telling the stories, or playing a part in the discussions that we should be taking part in. It’s exhausting to feel like you’re just… shouting into the void. Like nobody cares. Like we don’t matter. And for a show like SIX that means a lot to so many and spent such time cultivating a devoted fan base, for them to reinforce those negative feelings is profoundly disappointing.

Responding to the wave of criticism the move got on Twitter from disabled patrons and SIX fans: the producers said this:

“Since confirming our transfer to the Vaudeville Theatre we have been discussing and continue to discuss how we can ensure access for everyone to our show. That has always been the ambition for SIX. We, and Nimax, are fully committed to ensuring this can happen and are very happy to engage with anyone who can help work together with us to make that possible. Please contact us through access@sixthemusical.com if you would like to be part of the ongoing conversations with us.”

In a sound: *sigh*. Why weren’t these conversations happening beforehand, before any decisions were made, and more importantly, why is the onus always on us, the patrons, to point out and solve these problems – why are we an afterthought?

Nica Burns, Nimax’s CEO states:

“When we bought the Vaudeville I thought, ‘No problem, we can sort out disabled access’. It’s six steps to the auditorium. Just six steps which are the only accessible route in to or out of the auditorium.   We have conducted a number of  feasibility studies on solving these six steps and on installing an accessible loo but the particular dimensions and layout of the Vaudeville continue to be a challenge. 

The reason why we can’t install stair lifts is that these 6 steps are the primary entrance and exit from the stalls and we have not found a stair lift which complies with our fire regulations. In May this year I thought we might solve it when the lovely Sarah Howard, the Access Coordinator at The Park theatre, sent me a link for a specialist lift company in Ireland that turns steps into ramps. ‘This is it’ I thought. We explored, we investigated and again, because of the particular dimensions at the Vaudeville, it couldn’t work as again it fell foul of our fire regulations.

We’ve also put a lot of work into trying to find a place to install an accessible loo. Again, we’ve looked at numerous schemes but none of them worked. The Vaudeville front of house footprint is tiny and we simply don’t have the room.  

So, we try very hard to make our bespoke access service as friendly and comfortable as possible. We provide a trained member of staff to discuss access requirements with each customer which is why we ask access customers to contact us via our access line.  We tell people upfront that we escort access customers a short distance down the Strand to use the Adelphi accessible loo. 

A new stairclimber is being tested which will take the weight of 400 kilos and enable greater access for our customers. 

In the meantime, we will continue working on the Vaudeville challenges, checking new technology as it comes on stream and doing the best we can. The Vaudeville is a little gem of a playhouse and we’ve presented hundreds of brilliant shows to our audiences and welcomed many disabled customers. 

Let’s be very clear, we do care. We do think about you. We respect you. From the bottom of my heart I wish we had better facilities for you. In the meantime, we will do our best to accommodate all of our customers’ needs and give you a very warm welcome.”

I’m sorry, but a warm welcome is surely incumbent on being able to actually enter the building, and I for one don’t feel thought about or respected, because as always, we as disabled patrons have to pick you up on these issues. Nothing ever changes. And therein is the thorn in the side that hurts most: change is possible – look at the Old Vic, a grade II LISTED BUILDING has done wondrous work to improve their accessibility, so forgive me for being tired and sceptical of that excuse. And, I don’t know about you, but this “apology” feels totally lacklustre & defensive.

I give so much of my time & emotional energy to supporting this industry, and it chips away just as sharply as it gives and fills me up. How is it possible, and crucially fair that something I love SO much can continually make me feel so crap about myself?

If I could ask one thing of all my readers, share this & stand with us. Having a disability and loving this industry is often such a lonely place to be. It’s time that changed.