Back in business

As the Almeida prepares to reopen this month, Michael Attenborough, its artistic director, looks back over his diary entries for the theatre's most dramatic year so far

January 2002

Having resisted the temptation to apply for the Almeida Theatre, but then been invited to two interviews, I've now been offered the job. I discuss with my wife, the actress Karen Lewis, whether I am (once again) to commit bigamy. Running a theatre is all-consuming, you have to live, eat, sleep, breathe it. The Almeida is unique, in my opinion the most exciting theatre in London, a truly epic space in a beautifully intimate setting. We're of one mind, I should accept.

February 2002

I visit a building site of a theatre. Clambering up the scaffolding in a hard hat with the executive director, Sarah Weir, I stare in amazement at the interior. There is no roof, just a corrugated covering through which the rain is pouring, no stage, no stalls, just what looks like the ruins of Pompeii. All that remains are the exterior walls and the bare bones of a circle. The front of house has been raised to the ground, now just a mud patch. How on earth can this be ready in less than a year?

March 2002

Adrian Noble resigns from the RSC (where I'm still working). A flattering number of staff ask me to apply. I'm touched but reply that I'm delighted to be going to the Almeida. I believe Michael [Boyd] is an excellent choice and will take the company in the right direction, making it smaller and more focused on the skills of the ensemble.

May 2002

Meetings with the staff at the Almeida, including Jonathan Kent and Ian McDiarmid (who possess an uncanny ability to finish each other's sentences; I can't decide where to look). The warmth and generosity of their welcome is delightful. Their achievements have been extraordinary, so their endorsement means a great deal. I know that I'm being auditioned by the staff; I hope I get the job and they stay on – I've heard great reports of them.

It becomes clear that the landlords of King's Cross will not extend the lease. So we have no theatre. Jonathan and Ian leave in July, my plans come on stream with the re-opening. Sarah and I decide we must stand by the staff and keep them on, even though we have no income. The board and the Arts Council are fully supportive.

July 2002

I formally take over and begin to make a home for myself in our eccentric offices in Upper Street. I'm thrilled to hear that the vast majority of the staff are staying on, as are the associate director, Howard Davies, and advisors Jonathan Dove (music), Mark Henderson (lighting), and John Leonard (sound). One of my first actions is to invite my friend and erstwhile colleague at the RSC, Maggie Lunn, to join me as artistic associate and assist me in programming, assembling creative teams and casting all our shows. She accepts. Terrific. Her awesome blend of intellect and passion make her the ideal person with whom to bounce ideas around. We set about putting together my first season. The first difficult decision is not to direct the opening show. I know there'll be a mountain of work and decisions in the build-up and I need to be involved. I secure Trevor Nunn to direct Pam Gems's new version of Ibsen's The Lady from the Sea. Some of his finest work has been in small spaces such as the Other Place (it was he who founded the Donmar). I'm delighted.

September 2002

Antony Sher (the actor, novelist, painter and Renaissance man) has written his first play – about the man who assassinated Prime Minister Verwoerd, the architect of apartheid. It's an extraordinary piece, part serious, part burlesque – I jump at it. It's entitled ID, and Nancy Meckler will direct it. I have been following the work of a completely original 24-year-old writer called Joanna Laurens. Her new play Five Gold Rings is stunning – rich, sensuous, emotionally wrought and very sexy. I decide to programme it at Christmas (when it's set) and to direct it myself.

November 2002

Maggie joins full-time, having completed her time as acting head of casting at the NT. In Conran's lovely new Almeida restaurant, we meet up with our team of associate actors – Simon Russell Beale, Josette Bushell-Mingo, Meera Syal, Penelope Wilton and Richard Wilson. They're predictably sparky and supportive, and will be a fantastic asset over the coming years. In the autumn I intend to form an Almeida actors' group that will explore the specific challenge of tackling non-naturalistic, heightened texts, so crucial for a theatre like ours.

December 2002

I fly to New York to meet Neil LaBute, whose new play The Mercy Seat is, I believe, his best so far. It would be his fourth Almeida premiere. He's a large bear of a man with twinkly eyes and a gorgeous sense of humour. He agrees to let us produce the play, and for me to direct. It's a tough, unblinking look at a passionate sexual relationship in the immediate aftermath of 9/11.

January 2003

The builders have passed their deadline. We expected it. They've faced a number of problems (including, I was told, an extended run by the Irish in the World Cup). They're doing a fine job, but we have to draw up a new schedule. I am committed to opening in early May. It's going to be tight. I stand in the deserted theatre with Trevor and his designer Rob Howell, and see him almost literally smack his lips at the challenge of evoking Ibsen's world on a small budget in this unique but simple space.

February 2003

Having secured the programme (with more plans for 2004), I embark on a number of less visible initiatives that will enrich our theatre and expand our audience. I want us to form close relationships with six local secondary schools, offering support for their curriculum work, skills sessions, and workshops in the theatre inspired by our shows. One of our associate actors, Josette Bushell-Mingo, is artistic director of Push, a black-led multi-arts organisation that marries young black artists with mainstream organisations, commissioning and developing their work and presenting it bi-annually in one concentrated event. I offer Push the Almeida as their home. In September next year we shall be the host venue for Push 2004. Maggie and I meet up with the Wilson & Wilson Company and commission them to create a site-specific production in Islington for May 2004.

March 2003

While I was directing The Prisoner's Dilemma at the RSC, David Edgar and I organised a two-day conference (with the Oxford Research Group) on conflict resolution. The theatre director Penny Cherns asked if I would be interested in providing a home for research work with actors into the increasing influence of theatre techniques on this vital area. Maggie and I now meet with Penny and the opera director Olivia Fuchs (together Dramatic Solutions), and agree to do so.

April 2003

An extraordinary moment. Within a week we reach the £7.6m needed to pay for the building. An amazing tribute to our development team. We are formally handed back the building, and at long last our staff can turn it into a theatre again. It looks stunning. The theatre itself is lovingly unaltered, that magical relationship of actor and audience beautifully preserved. The expense is invisible – a new roof, air-conditioning and, under the stage, three new dressing rooms. Front of house is brand new but, to my great relief, triumphantly unposh: light and airy, with simple, natural, untreated textures. Standing in the auditorium, the hair stands up on the back of my neck.

And we're into rehearsal. Maggie and Trevor have put together a wonderful cast headed by Natasha Richardson as Ellida. I invite all the staff to the first rehearsal. Trevor formally left the RNT two days ago; he looks 15 years younger. I talk of my thrill at this moment, the achievements that have got us here, and my plans for the future. On 11 April, it's Sarah Weir's leaving party. Ten months ago she was headhunted by the Arts Council to head up their London branch. She wanted to see the new building open, so flatteringly, they've waited. And she's done so – on schedule, and on budget. Rick Haythornthwaite – the chair of the best board I've worked for and, gallingly, younger than me – and I speak. Sarah replies and ends in tears. In truth she's performed miracles keeping the theatre afloat in the face of alarming financial problems that had built up prior to my arrival. I take comfort from seeing Neil Constable's friendly, confident face. I've nicked him from the RSC to take Sarah's place.

The rest of the month is spent hosting receptions for supporters, showing them the new building they helped pay for. I tell them of my plans, not very subtly mentioning that our less visible work can only happen if we raise private funding, quite apart from the £800,000 we have to find every year to support our core programme. For 2003/04 we've raised more than in the history of the theatre, largely thanks to the generosity of Coutts, our new principal sponsor. There are also two receptions for the press, theatre and opera – our coming season of contemporary opera is (thanks to the Genesis Foundation) our most ambitious ever.

Heady times lie ahead, but for the moment our focus is simple: 8 May, and our first performance.