Charlaina Thompson brings DUST to the Edinburgh Fringe, a powerful new solo drama rooted in real-life stories of the 1973 Lofthouse Colliery disaster. The production offers a deeply personal exploration of working-class history and memory.
Written and directed by Thompson, the show weaves together past and present through the fragmented recollections of a survivor, examining themes of generational trauma, identity and resilience. It marks the first instalment in a planned trilogy of new work.
DUST runs at Pleasance Courtyard, Bunker One, from 5–30 August (excluding 12, 18 and 25) at 14:10. Tickets are available here.
You’ve written and directed DUST at Pleasance Courtyard. What can you tell us about the show?
Built around what I call “The 10 Northern Commandments”, the unwritten rules of loyalty, resilience, humour and survival, the show weaves together personal memories with the verbatim experiences of Craig’s grandfather, who survived the 1973 Lofthouse Colliery disaster against extraordinary odds.
At its heart is the story of a boxer, a soldier, a miner, a husband and a father.
Through a fever dream of memories, he reflects on the people, places and relationships that shaped his life.
While rooted in Yorkshire’s mining heritage, DUST is ultimately a love story about family, identity, belonging and the extraordinary lives hidden within ordinary communities.
The piece is inspired by real events and personal histories. What drew you to tell this particular story and how did you approach shaping it for the stage?
The story grew out of my own journey to reconnect with my family history after returning to Yorkshire following the death of my aunt.
As I began researching my ancestry, I uncovered remarkable stories of courage, resilience and survival within my own family and the mining communities I grew up around.
A chance conversation with Craig McArdle revealed similar stories in his family, including his grandfather’s survival of the 1973 Lofthouse Colliery disaster.
We realised that while the details were personal, the themes were universal: family, identity, belonging, loss and love.
In shaping the work for the stage, I combined personal memories, historical research and verbatim testimony with physical theatre and storytelling.
Rather than creating a traditional mining drama, I wanted to capture how memory works: fragmented, emotional and often surreal.
The result is a theatrical fever dream that honours real lives while inviting audiences to reflect on their own histories and the people who shaped them.
DUST explores themes of generational trauma and working-class identity. Why are these themes important for you to highlight in your work?
I am working-class and proud to come from Yorkshire. It shaped me and moulded me into the person I am today.
I can only speak from my experience, my memory and my truth.
Growing up in the 1980s during the Thatcher years, I witnessed first-hand the impact of the miners’ strike and the challenges faced by working-class communities.
I remember the arguments around the dinner table, the pride, the poverty, the social divide, the camaraderie, the working men’s clubs, the humour, the fights and the fierce sense of community.
People didn’t always have much, but they looked after each other.
I experienced my own share of loss and upheaval and know first-hand that while wounds heal, the scars often remain.
Perhaps that’s why I felt compelled to look back into my ancestry to understand where I came from and to realise that my own struggles were not unique.
Every generation carries its own burdens: war, industrial decline, disasters, pandemics and loss. It is part of the human experience and part of what shapes us.
DUST isn’t just a play about mining. It’s about what we inherit from the generations before us: the struggles, the values, the wounds and the wisdom.
What I discovered through researching my own family history was that alongside the trauma exists incredible strength, resilience, bravery, humour, love and an extraordinary capacity to endure.
For me, DUST is ultimately a celebration of working-class people and communities.
The most extraordinary people I’ve known rarely saw themselves as extraordinary, but their stories, sacrifices and acts of kindness changed lives, including my own.
In many ways, DUST is my love letter to them.
The narrative moves between past and present through fragmented memories. How did you develop this structure and what does it add to the storytelling?
I always wanted to start at the end and work back through “The Man’s” life.
I named him “The Man” because although it is based on a true story, it is also a universal story.
To tell the story of a life in 55 minutes and make it authentic, raw and honest is challenging.
I knew I wanted the backbone of the narrative to be grounded in The 10 Northern Commandments, as they were so personal to my own memories.
They also acted as a moral compass, helping me curate what I felt were the significant moments that shaped a life and allowing the audience to connect with his journey.
The present-day story, where the play starts and ends, is a true story.
The Man is taken away from his wife during the pandemic and placed in a hospital bed because he has Covid-19.
He is alone and isolated in a room, desperate to get back to his wife, who has Alzheimer’s.
He is her memories, her only connection to the past.
We journey back through his life before returning to the present to discover whether he makes it home one last time.
This is the first part of a planned trilogy. How does DUST set the tone for the wider body of work you are creating?
The stories I have started to develop for DUST are all based on fictionalised true events or verbatim stories.
They form an episodic narrative spanning a century of life in a Yorkshire mining town.
A trilogy has now become a decalogy of work. Think The Crown for the common folk.
My research and stories have taken me from the First World War to the present day.
They explore my ancestry and the complex web of family struggles against the backdrop of war, industrial decline, disasters and strikes, while also retelling fragments of my own story.
Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction, but it is a story I am ready to tell.
All I know is that the heart of each story has subconsciously found its way back home.
“You can take the lass out of Yorkshire, but you can’t take the Yorkshire out of the lass.”
What would you say to anyone thinking of booking to see DUST?
“Where there is darkness there is light.”
I think what surprises audiences most is how much humour and comedy is interwoven throughout the play.
Perhaps that is poor marketing on my part, but I like that it takes people on a surprising journey.
Have I said too much?
