This intimate and intriguing play delicately uncovers a fascinating story about an over protective father and his sheltered daughter. Through a series of children's stories, objects and related memories, the audience subtly come to understand the disturbing story of a complicated father, the manipulated mind of his daughter and their relationship.The play utilises an ingenious space. A former C venues smoking balcony, scruffy and exposed to the elements, has been turned into the hovel that screams eccentricity. The walls are adorned with scribbled maps, an improvised roof is made of umbrellas, and jars of collected rain water litter the room.Donning and typifying an anorak the father collects rain from around the world to keep in jars, an obsession that revels in natural beauty and is sufficiently odd enough to withdraw himself and his daughter from the main thrust of reality. Each jar of rain holds rare beauty and memories that can be appreciated only by the trained eyes of the connoisseur. He shares the priceless collection with the audience along with pleasant folktales that lure us into the indolent charm of this lifestyle. A disturbing undercurrent to their family life is inexorably made apparent through closer reading of all that is said. The seemingly inoffensive pleasantries with which the father ensnares the audience also keep the impressionable young girl trapped, and are imbued with repressed memories that disclose a dark past.The beauty of this play lies in the subtleties with which the script is rendered, a delicate task in writing and performance. The full implications of what is said are never made explicit, but ideas are always fully developed, meaning the substance of the show is both rich and understated. This makes the whole show extremely tasteful, refined and pleasantly challenging. The actors manage the space with tactful ingenuity to completely ingratiate the audience into the family life. The manipulation of audience perceptions is incredibly effective and left me feeling guilty and conflicted. Members of the audience were made complicit in what they saw but remained incapable of effecting change against very evident wrongs. The affection we were led to feel for the father is bitterly challenged by the recognition of his dubious actions and flaws. Only some time after being involved in this experience can it be properly rationalised. The underhand manner in which everything is presented means that it requires some quiet reflection to be fully appreciated. When the reality of the situation is understood, and the intricacy with which the performance has been constructed has been dissected, a lighthearted and charming experience becomes one that is harrowing and simply phenomenal.