Eeeeeeeek!!!!
Where on earth does the time go?!?!? I knew I was going to be busy over the last week, but this is ridiculous.
Anyway, I have to tell you this story. I mentioned that I was going out to be the Wise Man in a Christmas play for elderly people? Well, actually there are only 6 of us in the entire cast, so I'm also a dancing angel, a messenger and I think tonight they're going to ask me to muck out the stable. Those of us in the cast range from 53 to around 70, and we all wear black tops and trousers, so that the costume bits identifying our roles (tinfoil wings for angels, a spectacular jewelled crown and navy and gold velvet robe for me as the Wise Man, etc) stand out, so dressed in top-to-toe black we all look slightly satanic which is, I suppose, something of a comment on the world into which Christ was born. Anyway on the day of our first "production" we had an audience of about 30 extreeeeeeeeemely elderly ladies, most of whom arrived on Zimmerframes or a couple of walking sticks. So once they were installed in their seats and all their walking frames and sticks were stashed in a corner, they were pretty much a captive audience.
At the beginning of the play, a couple of us distributed odd little props to all these ladies (little flags to wave, an assortment of hats, knitting (!) and other assorted paraphernalia (don't you just love that word? My life is filled with paraphernalia). So off we launched into this mad little play, which is a moderately humorous modern retelling of the Nativity story. It runs at rather a breakneck pace, as we deliver a few lines, squeeze behind the audience at that end, dash offstage to the right into the kitchen, ditch one costume and leap into another. I thought I was going to wear my wings out entirely, I put them on and took them off so many times. Then we have to scurry through a couple of adjoining rooms, grabbing our props as we go, and dash back into the other end of the tiny hall, squeeze past that end of the audience and get back onstage.
Things were going very smoothly, considering, and then one of the audience became sick to her stomach. Very sick. Repeatedly and profusely sick. Another lady found a supply of plastic carrier bags and would hand her a fresh one, and take the last one out into the adjoining room. She apparently didn't know what else to do with them, so she was putting them on the props table. Next to the carrier bag which contained my Wise Man's gifts for the Baby Jesus. Fortunately, I did manage to pick up the correct bag and was able to offer my gifts of chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil, and a couple of types of ghastly bath products in lieu of actual gold, frankincense and myrrh, but much better that than presenting Him with a bag of sick!!!!
It did make for a rather odd finale to the Blessed Story to have to be squeezing past this poor old lady who was doing her level best to be very quiet about her problem, and really looked as dignified as one can while vomiting into a plastic bag, still wearing the chef's hat that she had been given to wear at the beginning!
Funny, when I was studying Theatre at McGill, they never mentioned the above scenario as a possible option under the heading of Audience Participation.
So tonight we're presenting the play again to another group, but it will be hard to top our premiere.
Other than the above, it's all been madness. I exhibited at a craft fair in Towcester (Northants, not Beds, I've been reliably advised by the lovely Gill of Woolly Workshop who came by to meet me and very kindly went out and got me a sandwich, as I really couldn't leave my stand) and taught two lovely little girls to knit. Philippa is 10 and Sophie is 9, and they were looking longingly at my things and saying how much they wanted to learn to knit so I said if they had half an hour I'd teach them. Within 10 minutes, Sophie was happily knitting away and after another 10 minutes she was saying "I feel like I've always been able to knit". Sweet.
I've had to spend this week getting ready for another fair in Woburn (on the 18th) as tomorrow I'm off to Edinburgh and Glasgow for a festive knit-together with the lovely lassies there. I get back on Monday, and on Tuesday I'm off to Vienna for 3 days to pay my respects to my Mom's favourite city. So I get back next Friday, have Saturday to do the final prep for Woburn on Sunday, and at 8 am on Monday, we're doing our final production of the play for our gang of friends at the gym. And that, dear readers (if any of you have stayed awake to this point) takes us into Christmas week - Hurrah! And then I may get a chance to write Christmas cards.
One last topic - the inevitable. I've met a man. He's lovely. A few years older than I am. Sweet, kind, gentle, intelligent, uproariously funny and very, very attractive. He seems to like me too. And naturally, just when I was thinking that my life is so good and, for me, relatively calm, and maybe it would be best to just enjoy what I have - isn't that always the way? But he's so very, very lovely that I can hardly say, No, I'd really rather spend my time knitting by the fire. So, we'll see.
I hope you're all well and happy.
Love,
Nance
Anyway, I have to tell you this story. I mentioned that I was going out to be the Wise Man in a Christmas play for elderly people? Well, actually there are only 6 of us in the entire cast, so I'm also a dancing angel, a messenger and I think tonight they're going to ask me to muck out the stable. Those of us in the cast range from 53 to around 70, and we all wear black tops and trousers, so that the costume bits identifying our roles (tinfoil wings for angels, a spectacular jewelled crown and navy and gold velvet robe for me as the Wise Man, etc) stand out, so dressed in top-to-toe black we all look slightly satanic which is, I suppose, something of a comment on the world into which Christ was born. Anyway on the day of our first "production" we had an audience of about 30 extreeeeeeeeemely elderly ladies, most of whom arrived on Zimmerframes or a couple of walking sticks. So once they were installed in their seats and all their walking frames and sticks were stashed in a corner, they were pretty much a captive audience.
At the beginning of the play, a couple of us distributed odd little props to all these ladies (little flags to wave, an assortment of hats, knitting (!) and other assorted paraphernalia (don't you just love that word? My life is filled with paraphernalia). So off we launched into this mad little play, which is a moderately humorous modern retelling of the Nativity story. It runs at rather a breakneck pace, as we deliver a few lines, squeeze behind the audience at that end, dash offstage to the right into the kitchen, ditch one costume and leap into another. I thought I was going to wear my wings out entirely, I put them on and took them off so many times. Then we have to scurry through a couple of adjoining rooms, grabbing our props as we go, and dash back into the other end of the tiny hall, squeeze past that end of the audience and get back onstage.
Things were going very smoothly, considering, and then one of the audience became sick to her stomach. Very sick. Repeatedly and profusely sick. Another lady found a supply of plastic carrier bags and would hand her a fresh one, and take the last one out into the adjoining room. She apparently didn't know what else to do with them, so she was putting them on the props table. Next to the carrier bag which contained my Wise Man's gifts for the Baby Jesus. Fortunately, I did manage to pick up the correct bag and was able to offer my gifts of chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil, and a couple of types of ghastly bath products in lieu of actual gold, frankincense and myrrh, but much better that than presenting Him with a bag of sick!!!!
It did make for a rather odd finale to the Blessed Story to have to be squeezing past this poor old lady who was doing her level best to be very quiet about her problem, and really looked as dignified as one can while vomiting into a plastic bag, still wearing the chef's hat that she had been given to wear at the beginning!
Funny, when I was studying Theatre at McGill, they never mentioned the above scenario as a possible option under the heading of Audience Participation.
So tonight we're presenting the play again to another group, but it will be hard to top our premiere.
Other than the above, it's all been madness. I exhibited at a craft fair in Towcester (Northants, not Beds, I've been reliably advised by the lovely Gill of Woolly Workshop who came by to meet me and very kindly went out and got me a sandwich, as I really couldn't leave my stand) and taught two lovely little girls to knit. Philippa is 10 and Sophie is 9, and they were looking longingly at my things and saying how much they wanted to learn to knit so I said if they had half an hour I'd teach them. Within 10 minutes, Sophie was happily knitting away and after another 10 minutes she was saying "I feel like I've always been able to knit". Sweet.
I've had to spend this week getting ready for another fair in Woburn (on the 18th) as tomorrow I'm off to Edinburgh and Glasgow for a festive knit-together with the lovely lassies there. I get back on Monday, and on Tuesday I'm off to Vienna for 3 days to pay my respects to my Mom's favourite city. So I get back next Friday, have Saturday to do the final prep for Woburn on Sunday, and at 8 am on Monday, we're doing our final production of the play for our gang of friends at the gym. And that, dear readers (if any of you have stayed awake to this point) takes us into Christmas week - Hurrah! And then I may get a chance to write Christmas cards.
One last topic - the inevitable. I've met a man. He's lovely. A few years older than I am. Sweet, kind, gentle, intelligent, uproariously funny and very, very attractive. He seems to like me too. And naturally, just when I was thinking that my life is so good and, for me, relatively calm, and maybe it would be best to just enjoy what I have - isn't that always the way? But he's so very, very lovely that I can hardly say, No, I'd really rather spend my time knitting by the fire. So, we'll see.
I hope you're all well and happy.
Love,
Nance
posted by Nance at 8:10:00 am
3 Comments:
We'll want ALl the details on Saturday- well, nearly all. Glad you didn't decide to 'Get a life' - or whatever that comment was - the current one sounds like far too much fun to abandon (even allowing for bags of sick for baby Jesus!)
I've heard the expression "The show must go on," but that takes the biscuit!
A wee note to say a big thank you for the gift basket - that cashmere is amazing (I've never held REAL cashmere before)..
Cheers!
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