Trader Faulkner was a neighbour of ours, and for a while a lodger, in Merton Park, south London, in the 1960s.
So as not to drown us out in the house he began to practise his thespian vocal warm-ups in the garden. Unfortunately one particularly histrionic session resulted in a police squad car arriving, as another neighbour was fearful that a murder was being committed in the shrubbery.
Trader’s “aggressive” flamenco was indeed a magnificent sight to behold, but the force of his first demonstration in our kitchen broke a quarry floor tile, much to the dismay of my mother. Trader was great company, full of humour and always ready to give good down-to-earth Australian advice to us boys.
Giles du Boulay
The most extraordinary moment of Trader Faulkner’s solo performance of Lorca, which I produced, came halfway through the first act. On the tiny stage of the Gate theatre, west London, Trader – then nearly 60 – did a standing back flip. Not once, but night after night. And twice on Saturdays.
Peter Wilson
