WHILE THEY WERE WAITING
Upstairs at the Gatehouse
★★★★
“a tender and humorous reflection on the art of pausing”
At first glance, the set suggests a threshold to anywhere or nowhere. A yellow door stands centre stage, framed by a bench, clusters of plants, drifting clouds and scattered boxes. Designed by Hannah Danson, the world feels recognisable yet faintly imagined, like a memory of a waiting room rather than a literal one. It is grounded in realism but gently tips into the surreal.
Directed by Sydney Stevenson, the production leans confidently into this delicate balance between absurdism and emotional sincerity, allowing stillness and silence to sit comfortably alongside heightened comic exchanges.
Into this space steps Mulberry, played by Steve Furst. He welcomes us holding an umbrella without a canopy beneath the sound of falling rain. Furst fills the stage with assured presence and finely tuned comic expression. We quickly grasp the central condition of his existence: he does not know the time, yet he must wait. More than that, he has turned waiting into a hobby. He insists he enjoys it.
He is soon joined by Bix, performed by the play’s writer, Gary Wilmot. Wilmot not only stars in the production but makes his playwriting debut with While They Were Waiting. His character carries a lighter, more open energy, slightly dishevelled in unironed clothes and gently curious about his circumstances. Unlike Mulberry, Bix seems genuinely intrigued by the reason he is there.
The two men stand before the same yellow door, yet appear fundamentally opposed. They rarely agree, though they circle strikingly similar questions.
What is time? What defines a place? Is a location shaped by how we perceive it, or by how others see us within it? If I say I am here, but you see me as being there, where are we really?
Wilmot’s writing allows these philosophical ideas to unfold through rapid-fire banter and carefully timed jokes that dovetail neatly into one another. The dialogue balances absurdism with accessibility, layering small reflections beneath comic exchanges. Furst’s ability to undercut Mulberry’s rigid, almost authoritarian persona with flashes of pantomime-style humour is sharp and effective, while Wilmot plays Bix with warmth and a quiet emotional undercurrent.
Mulberry insists that waiting is a pastime; Bix suggests ringing the doorbell, something Mulberry claims to have already tried and firmly discourages repeating.
“But waiting is boring!” Bix protests.
And that question lingers. What do we do in the pauses? How do we inhabit the in-between spaces of our lives? Wilmot’s script proposes that it is precisely within these mundane liminal moments that life’s most profound truths reside.
There is deliberate repetition throughout, reinforcing the cyclical nature of waiting. It serves the themes well, though at times the patterns become predictable; certain jokes and exchanges feel anticipated before they land. Yet even within that familiarity, the performers’ chemistry sustains the rhythm.
At its heart, While They Were Waiting is an ode to life’s suspended moments, those stretches where we feel almost submerged in Lethe, the river of forgetfulness, unsure whether we wish to move forward or remain where we are. It becomes a heartfelt meditation on existence, grief, companionship and the quiet relief of leaning on another person.
There are flashes of genuine vulnerability that cut through the comedy. Occasionally, however, the script edges toward telling us how to feel rather than allowing emotion to surface organically. The most powerful moments arise in the subtext, in what is left unsaid, in the stillness between lines.
Blending absurdism, warmth and introspection, While They Were Waiting offers a tender and humorous reflection on the art of pausing. It suggests that perhaps waiting is not an interruption of life but life itself, happening quietly while we think nothing is happening at all.
WHILE THEY WERE WAITING
Upstairs at the Gatehouse
Reviewed on 3rd March 2026
by Nasia Ntalla
Photography by Simon Jackson
