Camden Fringe 2026

We Love and Then We Drown

Ruth Gilligan, writer

Genre: Fringe Theatre, New Writing, Short Plays, Theatre

Venue: John Lyon's Theatre, City Lit

Festival: Camden Fringe

Low Down

Review

This audacious new play by Ruth Gilligan asks the awkward question: How much are any of us really willing to sacrifice to save the world as we know it? Whilst none of us may know the answer, this cleverly elaborate plot, set in a not-too-distant, not-too-impossible future, explores one harsh potential answer.

Could it be that protagonist Catherine has made the ultimate sacrifice, greater maybe than that of dedicating her life to saving the human race from itself?

This well-written, fast-paced play deftly weaves in and out of Catherine’s Klimtesque three ages. Clever switches of lighting states and overlaps of dialogue, which are at moments intricately and impeccably timed by Catford, Amapola and Dourado, take the audience from young Kitty (Amapola), who tellingly thought she was “…going to be a scientist one day,” while clutching her very first plant, into adult Professor Catherine Hardy (Dourado), who adamantly insists, “It’s fucking urgent. It’s more urgent than ever,” and points out the obvious and eerily current observation that the “…cars are burning a hole in the ozone layer, the sun’s getting hotter and the ice caps are melting…”.

Seeming to single-handedly take the burden of climate change onto her learned shoulders, the professor haphazardly coincides with Greg (Thomas) and becomes the subject of his besotted persistence. At times their relationship seems to lurch abruptly from compatibility and devotion to begrudging annoyance, without the development of why. Perhaps a limitation of a fringe-length production prevents us from learning more about their rollercoaster.

The set is simple, not futuristic, but perhaps reminiscent of a 2075 research lab and later a crisis centre. It does not detract from the dialogue, which is key. The blocking is consciously planned with the help of blue LEDs DSL, keeping us with Catherine as she looks into her memories of her younger selves. The moving head brought us the helicopter at its crucial moment, but it was a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. This reviewer would have enjoyed a few revolutions more, but appreciated the many clever and effective design choices.

Although young Kitty recounts that she supposed, “If it was warm, Mummy would stop complaining that we never go on holiday.” (as 73-year-old Catherine (Catford) poignantly and sometimes devastatingly looks on with excruciating hindsight)This cringe-inducing utterance has been heard in many guises this summer of ‘26. The script brings audiences into the uncomfortable and immediate self-reflection about potentially enforced “staycationing” in a tomorrow just around the corner.

Clare Catford is simultaneously endearing, pathetic and caustic as she slips in and out of lucidity from Catherine’s wheelchair.

There is a clever and unintrusive use of music which threads the children’s song “Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes” through our shared memories. A further thoughtful choice of subtle ambient tracks use Alison Moyet’s lyrics “Can you hear me?” and “Only you” echoing into the void. Also, agonisingly, either Director Adam Radford’s or perhaps Writer Ruth Gilligan’s choice of another ’80s track by Cyndi Lauper reminds us, just at the right moment, that “Time after time”, as “the second hand unwinds, if you fall”, someone “will catch you”. Are we mirroring the missed opportunities of lost relationships here?

The writing is well-researched, but the climate science references are never preachy. So many of the vignettes will be recognisable to audience members of all of Catherine’s ages, and sadly, the collar-adjusting recognition of the urgency of this piece’s topic might make you writhe in your seat a little, but the delicacy and rawness of Catherine’s unravelling is worth our discomfort.

Published August 11, 2026August 11, 2026 by Deborah Nicholson