… To face the final curtain

Act the third

It’s OK, nobody died. In fact, as we approach that Difficult Second Weekend phase, I think we can be satisfied with our performances to date. But will we remember every one of Cerys’ last-minute instructions? Can we attain that elusive “extra notch”? Will we all remember our lines (you know who you are)? I have the luxury of being able to read from a script but will that dog-eared document survive another weekend on the sound-desk/in the bag next to my coffee cup? Will I finally snap and hurl said coffee over bloody cloud-children in their fluffy white costumes? The tension, so quickly released last Sunday, starts to re-build. Remorsesly.

Meanwhile, some good audience reviews, none of which I can remember but then, neither can you. “We really enjoyed it” (Dot Summers); “The Giant was particularly good” (Linda Healey); “How did you make your voice sound so scary?” (small boy); “I don’t like it mummy please take me away” (toddler on opening night — reSULT!).


With Jack & Jill. Linda says, harshly I feel, that I look like Stephen Hawking.



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