Punchdrunk return!

Today I went in search of this unusual shopfront* in east London. When I found it, after a false start in the basement of a bar further down the road, I went in and asked for Andres, as I had been advised to do. He was very busy but I waited an hour in the candle-lit, incense-filled shop with its lace-covered table of tarot cards, its velvet-covered table of plants and its red shelves of phials, test tubes and glass jars until he could give me ten minutes of his mysterious time.

I shouldn't have known about this place - it was intended for east Londoners to stumble upon - but as soon as I heard that wonderful Punchdrunk had a live trailer for their first show in London for six years I had to go hunting.

At the moment lucky New Yorkers can see what they're up to with Sleep No More. I haven't seen them since I was immersed in their performance of Faust over three floors of a huge London warehouse seven years ago when we went in, put on masks then explored the building. I moved from an Edward Hopper-style café to partying in a Walpurgis night forest to a deserted cinema. I found notes tucked into books in bedrooms, a couple having an argument over a table and a bartender whose drinks changed colours. At one point Mephistopheles suddenly appeared upside-down in front of me, having just swung down from the water-pipes above. After three hours I came across Faust's trial in the basement. I had never seen theatre like it.

I was hugely disappointed to miss their subsequent London performance but will to go to The Drowned Man this summer, also in a London warehouse, venue undisclosed. And their performance with Massive Attack at this year's Manchester International Festival. And I'd go to New York if I could.

Me? A fan?

*temporary until Saturday 30 March - I cannot tell you where